Photo by Geoff Carter
By Geoff Carter
Christmas is a time that, for most of us, evokes fond childhood memories. Who doesn’t sit around the tree on Christmas morning, watching their adorable children tear violent swaths through reams of wrapping paper, and remember their own visions of sugarplums, bikes, road race sets, Barbie dolls, board games, model kits, and EZ Bake ovens? Opening presents on Christmas morning was fun, but to me, the greatest part of the holiday was the anticipation. I grew up with four brothers. We would each make up our lengthy, hopeful, (and completely unrealistic) lists for Santa—or other interested parties.
Back in the day, there was no internet. We couldn’t shop online and, at least in the suburb where we lived, we were fairly limited as to where we could window shop. There were few toy stores or department stores withing walking distance. We had a Woolworth’s and a hobby shop, but that was about it—hardly enough to keep pace with a young kid’s wild imagination. We did, however, have two indispensable resources: The JC Penney’s and Sears Christmas catalogs.
To a child contemplating the possible length and breadth of treasures lying under the Christmas tree, these catalogs were like manna from heaven. They had everything a child could wish for—everything from playhouses to Man from UNCLE Secret Agent Weapon Sets to Mickey Mouse watches to basketballs and toboggans to electric guitars to road race sets to dollhouses to Hardy Boys books to Hot Wheels to Monopoly and Risk board games to wood-burning and paint-by-number set to microscopes and dissecting kits to GI Joe accessory packs. And more. They were encyclopedias of desire.
When these catalogs arrived in the mail around Thanksgiving, they instantly became our main source of entertainment, planning, and contention. My brothers and I would peruse these catalogs endlessly, circling the items we wanted (in different colored ink to differentiate who was asking for waht), and sometimes even negotiate over who should ask for which gifts. Duplicating road race sets would be a waste of one present. If one brother got it on Christmas morning, everybody would (in theory) be able to play the Monaco Home Speedway, so why have two? When we weren’t fighting over the catalogs, we were negotiating the most efficient way to ask for the most toys.
And there was so much more. The catalogs had all sorts of things for Mom and Dad, too. There were boxes of candies, Christmas trees, clothes, clothes, and more clothes (including his and hers kimono-style robes), power tools, boats and motors, cameras, shaving kits, and even household appliances.
In a strange way, despite of all the useless grown-up stuff in these books, and the rampant commercialism it promoted, the Sears and Penney’s catalogs were full of more than hopes for shiny toys and cool gadgets. They were filled with new possibilities for the future and opened new windows to the our tiny worlds.
My special passion was the science section. I loved looking at the Gilbert Chemistry Sets, the microscopes, telescopes, geology sets, and weather-forecasting sets. I was too you to take advantage of the Gilbert U-238 Atomic Energy Laboratory—complete with a jar of uranium (really) before it was discontinued, but the other toys, especially the dissecting kit and telescope, made the world of science seem more accessible, even to a kid. Becoming a scientist seemed suddenly possible. Remember, this was a time when the American space race was in full swing, and the public followed every space launch from countdown to splashdown. Science was actually pretty cool then.
The bike section was popular, too. The rage back then was the Sears Spyder muscle bike complete with sissy bar, banana seat, five-speed stick shift, dragster front, and ape hanger handlebars. These bike were designed to resemble choppers. Every kid who had seen Easy Rider or watched Steve McQueen jumping over Nazis in The Great Escapewanted one.
The GI Joe section of the catalogs was also a great hit with us—at least early on. They were a very popular toy item up until 1968 or so when the war in Vietnam became so controversial that sales began to drop precipitously. Dressing up these boy dolls in combat gear complete with rifles, grenades, and even tanks seemed to hit the wrong chord to an American public fed up with the war. The idea of opening that window of possibilities didn’t seem like the best idea—at least to young adults and their parents.
The catalogs also had sections featuring dress-up costumes. Nurses, doctors, fairy princesses, cowboys, cowgirls, nurses, doctors, Superman, Batman, and airmen, sailors, and soldiers were all popular costumes for kids to try out—to try and fill out the shoes of their future possibilities.
Browsing through erector sets, Lincoln logs, and Tinker Toys stoked the imaginations of future engineers. Checking out the Tonka trucks filled young minds with dreams of building the great highways, bridges, and skyscrapers of a growing country. Barbie dolls opened vistas of fashion and attempted to uphold style standards for young girls in the rapidly changing sixties counterculture.
James Bond and The Man from UNCLE spy kits unveiled the world of international intrigue and extraordinary spy gadgets to wondering and adventurous young ops.
And the book sets opened doors to dozens of other worlds. The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, American Heritage Junior Library, Anne of Green Gables and countless other series fired up young imaginations.
Just browsing through all these items—and hundreds more—let thousands, probably millions of children, dream not only about Christmas morning, but about their future selves. One of the most profound mysteries for a child is what kind of adult they will someday become. Will I be a scientist, an astronaut, a superhero, or a fashion model? (Thankfully, female role models have evolved greatly since these 1960s catalogs).
Browsing through these catalogs not only brings back fond memories of our childhoods, they also remind us of the bounty of possibilities and hopes available to our youth. Like the books listed within them, they also sparked young imaginations to possibilities outside previous boundaries of possibilities. In many ways, these catalogs opened our horizons and stoked hopes and dreams. They are, in many ways, the essence of Christmas.
All photos by Geoff Carter