Antique Tin Toy Kitchens

Tin toy kitchens, also known as doll kitchens, were made in Germany and America through the 1800s in a wide range of styles and price points. All were based on an open, three sided room box model. Large deluxe versions often featured working water tanks, functional sink taps, and a vast array of accessories, while tiny, simply made varieties offered only the merest suggestion of an oven, and relied heavily on children's imagination to make up for their lack of amenities.

I received these two tin kitchens for Christmas this past year. The first was made in Germany in the 1870s, and although small, measuring a mere 6 inches wide by 4 inches tall, features some fine details. There is a functioning tank on the right side which delivers water through a spout on the inner wall. The stove has a hood, a door that opens, and a rarely seen heat regulator (the tiny tab above the door: it slides to reveal an opening which would allow heat to escape from the oven.)

The kitchen still retains its unusually bright color scheme of yellow walls, salmon floor, and turquoise shelves.

This second kitchen is the tiniest and crudest I've ever seen, and yet it has a primitive charm. Measuring just 4 inches wide, it's almost pocket sized, and its stove is just a piece of folded tin, creating the merest suggestion of an oven. It retains traces of its original green paint on the side walls, and was clearly much loved and played with by its original owner. It dates from the late 1800s.

To learn more about the history of these playsets and to see a larger, more deluxe model, click here.

Early American Tin Pull Toys

The latter half of the nineteenth century was positively awash with these little tin pull toys, made by companies like Althof, Bergmann of New York, George Brown of Connecticut, and James Fallows of Philadelphia.

The painted, pressed tin toys came in an incredible variety of designs and sizes, and they have a folk art quality that is very appealing. Their fragility, combined with their function as pull toys, makes them scarce today. I was very fortunate to receive two this Christmas. Each measures about 5 1/2 inches long.

This stalwart looking dog carrying a basket is accompanied by a young child with a stick.

One of the more common themes in these pull toys is the horse and rider, as seen in this example.

If you'd like to see more of these wonderful toys, a quick Google image search for "early American tin toys" will bring up loads. One of the finest books I know on the subject is "American Antique Toys," by Bernard Barenholtz and Inez McClintock. Mr. Barenholtz was a founder of the educational toy company, Constructive Playthings, and one of the most prominent of early American toy collectors. It's a gorgeous book, filled with personal stories of his toy collecting adventures.

Chein Tin Toy Ferris Wheel

The outdoor antique show season has finally begun in our northerly part of the world. At the first show on our annual agenda, we found this great old tin toy ferris wheel, 16 inches tall, still in working order. When the key is wound, the wheel spins and the bell rings repeatedly (and loudly.)

Made of lithographed tin by the J. Chein Company of New Jersey in the 1930s, this ferris wheel became one of the long-lived firm's most classic and collectible toys. Its design evolved over several decades, with different images on the base, including a version with Disney characters made in the 1950s.

This earliest example has wonderful illustrations of a carnival sideshow on the end panels, and Orangeade and hot dog vendors on the front and back.

Note the Orangeade in its iconic globe dispenser.

The sideshow talker has a somewhat sinister air.

The smiling face in the wheel's center bears the name "Hercules," and this toy is sometimes referred to as the Hercules Ferris Wheel.

It is often found with the mechanism and bell missing, which is unsurprising after hearing how loud it is in operation. I imagine a lot of exasperated parents yanked the bell off after a few days of its ceaseless racket. If you find one in working order, you've found a treasure.

Antique German Tin Clockwork Clown Toy

Pictures don't do this toy justice: it is truly a beautiful thing. Circa the 1890s-1900s, it was most likely made in Germany, and is of painted tin with a clockwork mechanism (no longer working.)

Spotted in the cluttered corner of a toy show table, it was quite a find even in its non-working condition. The little six inch clown still charms, even with his chipped paint. His delicate construction and soft colors are very appealing, all the more so for how well they have lasted over the past 100 plus years.

1950s Tin Toy Space Port by T. Cohn/Superior/Pyro

Found at a toy show recently in a booth full of vintage space stuff, this tin litho space port was made in the 1950s by T. Cohn (who also made tin litho dollhouses) and released by Pyro, who manufactured the spaceship housed inside.

Toy Show space toy finds.

The space port measures 10 inches long, and features wonderful imagery of helmeted spacemen, rocket ships, flying saucers, fantastic machinery, and futuristic cityscapes:

The spaceship can be launched via a lever at the back of the port. Unfortunately, launching tended to damage the fragile plastic craft, often snapping off its fins, which makes finding the port complete with an intact ship quite a stellar feat. This one is in remarkable shape, and the whole playset is just an out-of-this-world-gorgeous toy.

The Pyro X-300 Space Cruiser

1930s Playskool Pullman

Two years ago, I finally found one of my most longed for toys: the Playskool Pullman, made for a very brief period in the early 1930s. You can read the original post about it here. Recently I found another one, in much better condition, with many of the accessories and details that were missing from my first find.

The pressed steel Pullman playset measures 11 1/2 by 9 1/2 inches, and was designed to resemble both a Pullman train car and a little suitcase. The leather handle made it easy to carry on a real train trip.

Two clear windows allow the little passengers to look outside, while a third window is covered with a decal printed to give the look of frosted glass.

The Pullman opens from the back, revealing  a compartment tucked behind green curtains.

Behind the curtains, a cozy compartment is unveiled, complete with benches and a fold away table. I've fitted it out with a tablecloth and some refreshments for the miniature French doll and Steiff bear travelling inside.

Above the passengers' heads, the sleeping berth is tucked away, ready to be pulled down in the evening.

Here's the berth pulled down, complete with sheets, pillows, and blankets.

To the left of the compartment is a small closet holding a porcelain sink, perfect for freshening up after a long journey.

I also found some old dollhouse sized luggage, perfectly scaled for the Pullman playset. The largest is a cardboard candy container, made in Germany in the early 1900s. The tiny red hat box is also German, while the black tin trunk was made by the Marx company.




All aboard the Playskool Pullman!

Archer Space Port

One of the greatest space toy lines of all time was created by the Archer Plastics Company of New York in 1952. Founded by a tool and die maker and mechanical engineer named Bob Genin, Archer Plastics designed fantastic space men, rocket cars, and space port playsets that have an Art Deco and Streamline Moderne sensibility about them. While we admire these toys today for their artistic quality, children back in the 1950s simply loved them for the imaginative possibilities they presented.

I've posted before about my Archer Space Men, including a complete set still in its original store counter display box. But the pinnacle of the Archer space toys, its tin litho Space Port from the Outer Space Set, eluded me...until recently. Presenting the finest tin litho space playset ever created, now residing happily on my dining room table after a brutal eBay battle:

The Space Port is made of lithographed tin, and measures 15 inches wide. It includes a control tower with an antenna and radar dish, and originally came boxed with a space car, a handful of space men, and a plastic rocket just like the one depicted on the front panel. The rocket cars and space ships now parked atop the port are not original to this set, but were made in the same time period and are perfectly at home.

There were many tin litho space port playsets produced by various companies in the 1950s, but the Archer set stands out because of its artwork. The Deco and Moderne inspired buildings look architecturally plausible, somehow familiar and yet futuristic. It is the space men populating the port, however, that are really remarkable. Fully realized characters, they have tremendous expression, and appear to be part of a story that the viewer is expected to piece together. All in all, the art creates a great springboard for the imaginations of the children who first saw it over 60 years ago. Let's take a closer look.

Here are some views of the tower, where space traffic controllers appear to be hard at work, directing takeoffs and landings to and from distant worlds.

Looking down at the Space Port from above, you can see into the rocket bay, where mechanics are busily preparing a ship for launch. (You're not really looking "into" anything: this is just a particularly effective illustration on the flat tin surface.)

This panel lifts up, revealing a rocket gantry that the plastic ship could be "launched" from. This is the only moving feature of the playset; the rest is powered purely by imagination.

Since my playset is missing its original Archer rocket (a common state of affairs, as the rockets were invariably taken away for outdoor play, lost off rooftops, etc.) I've added a fleet of space ships made in the 1950s by companies like Premier and Gilmark. These vehicles are fascinating for the way in which their design influences, the futuristic automobiles of the late 1940s and early 1950s, can sometimes be seen. Look closely and you'll see what appears to be the cab of a 1940s sedan melded to side rockets in the blue spaceships, for example.

 

On the Space Port's side panels, workers can be seen laboring at fantastic machinery which keeps the station running.

The man on the ladder at far left appears to have noticed us.
He is looking out from the illustration as if he sees the child at play,
an interesting technique for drawing the viewer into the imaginary world depicted on the panel.

The man on the right has a mischievous expression plainly evident on his face.
Is he a saboteur? Or merely clowning around, to the distress of his partner on the left,
who casts an annoyed glance in his direction?

On the back panel, three space men are having a conversation in front of a large viewing window. Two of the space men appear angry, while the third bows his head in resignation. Perhaps the report he has in his hand (interestingly, on a paper scroll) describes how his department is behind schedule or over budget.

"It's not my fault the project is over budget, sir: talk to Jones here!
He's got the report."

The characters in the Space Port's artwork are clearly modelled on the original Archer space figures. Here, you can see a figure next to his one-dimensional counterpart, wearing the same helmet and suit.

My Archer space figures are pleased to have their port back.

Toy Show Finds

Just got home from one of my favorite vintage toy shows. It's an annual event that happens each January, which really seems like a lousy month for a toy show, coming as it does right after Christmas. This year I planned strategically: when my family asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I said "money for the toy show please!" Here's what I spent it on:

There were all kinds of toy treasures, including a tin litho grocery store playset made in the 1950s by Wolverine; a scarce (and creepy) Hugo, Man of 1,000 Faces from the 1970s; a two-headed Doublenik troll from 1965 along with a tiny vending machine troll; a Weinermobile whistle; a bunch of 1950s space guys; Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon newspaper comics from the 1930s-1940s; a 1960s Batman puzzle; Barbie's original convertible; and a 1950s tin wind-up robot. I'll post properly about them later, but here are some quick pics and sneak peeks.

The robot has some rust, but he also has lots of character.

1950s space guys.

A Doublenik two-headed troll from 1965,
with its gumball prize friend.

Hugo, Man of 1,000 Faces, was a bizarre toy made in the 1970s. It's essentially a creepy looking guy's torso and head, along with a package of "disguise" accessories, including false chins, fake scars and warts, various noses, glasses, an eye patch, and hair pieces. I'm guessing it was inspired by spy films, but who knows. It's weird and now rather rare.

Hugo, Man of 1,000 Faces with some of his original accessory pieces.

Barbie's convertible, made by Irwin in the 1960s, was her first car.

The two shelf units on either side of this tin litho grocery store fold inward to close up the playset. Originally it would also have had a separate counter with accessories like a scale, but these are usually missing. The center span features great imagery of a 1950s supermarket.

The iconic weenie whistle.

The 1930s Buck Rogers newspaper comic above is complete, while the Flash Gordon strips below are only portions (but they feature a fantastic alien giant squiddy monster) :

These two mechanical bears were made in Japan in the 1950s. When wound, the bear on the left turns the pages of his book, while the one on the right wipes his glasses before holding them up to his eyes.