Scare films put me off firecrackers from childhood, but I will admit that the packaging art here is very tempting, cribbing the Moon Monster from a mail-order poster ad that you used to see in popular Horror Magazines and comic books back in the '70s.
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Fun Factory super gifts and gimmicks ad from February 1992
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This ad ran in comic books and newspapers in 1959, and kids went nuts! All you had to do issued in an empty bag of Kraft marshmallows, along with a suggested name for the trainer jet, and you could win it!
At the beginning of the space race, before President Kennedy had even promised to put an American on the moon, America was space happy. So what kid could resist having their own life-sized rocket ship trainer, complete with spacesuits and helmets?
A little girl in Missouri was the lucky winner of the contest However, her parents apparently did not want this 29 feet-long ballistic missile-looking simulator taking up their driveway or backyard. The simulator was quickly donated to the girl's elementary school, but eventually made its way to the front lawn of the Missouri Department of Mental Health.
There it sat, unused and unenjoyed (Is that even a word? Who cares, I just used it in a sentence!), for several years. Finally, amid the anti-war sentiment of the late 1960s and early70s it was removed and destroyed.
Unfortunately, I did not win any of the prizes from this contest. But I tell you this: if I had won the simulator, that thing would still be in my backyard today!
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I had me one of these when I was a wee lad. It was a present from my aunt who lived across the street at the time and who, I suspect, bought it so my sister and I wouldn't come over to her house all the time asking for cookies and other treats.
The sub was made of "fibreboard" pieces (really just heavy-duty cardboard) that interlocked together. You accessed the sub through the conning tower, which opened like a hatch. The torpedoes and missiles were hollow plastic (soft vinyl?) and were "fired" by air pressure from squeezing little bellows. I don't remember the "electronically lit instrument panel," but I think whoever put it together was too lazy to insert batteries. I don't recall missing that feature, because the sub was a blast to play in.
The Supermarionation show Stingray, which I enjoyed, was broadcast at the time, so I would pretend I was part of the show. A lot of times I would also make believe the sub was a spaceship
I know me sainted mum wasn't super fond of the sub because it took up most of the playroom my sister and I used. I don't know why mum was opposed to it, because no one else used the room, and the sub would keep me occupied for hours. Instead, after about a week, she had us take it outside to our postage stamp-sized backyard. Then she told us to leave it in the yard when we came in for dinner, and that it would be there in the morning for us to play in again.
Not me, and not my backyard (waaaay too big), but I found this photo of some lucky kid playing in his Polaris sub around the same time I had mine.
Except it rained that night. Hard. And my fibreboard/cardboard sub essentially melted into mush, the only things left being the periscope, torpedoes and missiles.
We never got a replacement sub, much as I wanted one. No one was willing to fork out another $7.73 (the price + shipping fee), which is the equivalent of $74.56 these days, for kids who couldn't take care of their toys.
One of these days, if I'm feeling industrious enough, I'll search the Interwebs to see if I can find the plans for the sub. Then I'll see If I can figure out how to make another sub, but big enough for my adult carcass to fit in.
And if that works, no one's gonna see or hear from me for a long time, 'cause I'll be exploring the oceans depths.
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