Archive for the 'Toys' Category

Farewell Gerry Anderson-master of marionette magic and merchandising

Puppet master Gerry Anderson (1929-2012) in a promotional portrait taken in 1996. Photo copyright David Finchett 1996

Puppet master Gerry Anderson (1929-2012) in a promotional portrait taken in 1996. Photo copyright David Finchett 1996

Readers of this blog post may not be familiar with the name Gerry Anderson, but you’ll almost certainly know his most famous television series Thunderbirds, which, after premiering in Australia in 1968, has been a staple of Saturday morning children’s television, screening almost non-stop since 1977.
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Dolls houses, old, new and making do

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93/1/1 Doll’s house, ‘A Perfect Little House’, with furniture, fittings and dolls, mixed media, made by Wilf Pownall and Alison Pownall, Gunnedah, NSW, c. 1940. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Christmas is that time of year when thoughts of toys are unavoidable. Personally, I love dolls houses, the way the everyday boring world suddenly becomes special when replicated in miniature.

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All I want for Christmas is a rocking horse

Victorian bow rocking horse, late 19th century, Powerhouse Museum collection, purchased 1985, 85/2060.

Victorian bow rocking horse, late 19th century, Powerhouse Museum collection, purchased 1985, 85/2060.

One of the classic images of the Victorian Christmas was the rocking horse which still features on cards today. At the turn of the twentieth century horses were still a vital part of life. In the country they provided muscle for many farm operations, and in the town they powered transport. It was no wonder that children enjoyed and wanted toy horses and none was more attractive and desirable than the ride-on rocking horse. In wealthy British households, where children spent hours separated from their parents in the nursery, the rocking horse was a favourite. More than any other toy of the period, it came to symbolise the stability and endurance of Victorian family life.

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ANZAC Day, The Sydney Morning Herald and a Dolls House

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Dolls house "Charlaine", 1946. Gift of Elaine Molloy, 2009. Powerhouse Museum Collection, 2009/32/1.

What do ANZAC Day, The Sydney Morning Herald newspaper and this dolls house in the Museum’s collection have in common? The answer is a heartfelt story which began when Charlie Sellers, who worked as a linotype foreman in the compositing section of the Herald, promised to build his youngest daughter, Elaine, a dolls house.
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Back to school, Florence’s 1908 exercise book

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Florence Breaden's school exercise book. Collection: Powerhouse Museum, 2010/65/1. Gift of Rowley Gilliland, 2010

This time of year Mums and Dads are busy buying all the exercise books, pencil cases, folders and laptops for the beginning of the school year. School has certainly changed in 100 years or so. A little while ago I acquired a gorgeous school exercise book owned by Florence Breaden (1893-1929) in 1908 who attended Petersham School in an inner Sydney suburb. I think it’s a homework book because it covers a range of subjects including Arithmetic, English, Geography, Poetry and Music, and was used from February to the end of the school year. As a diligent 15-year-old, Florence carefully illustrated her book with the most beautiful pen and ink title pages, half title pages and borders, all illustrated with flowers, rabbits, foxes, chickens, swans, birds and a woman riding a horse side saddle.

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Leslie Walford AM, 1927-2012

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A bear with fond memories, 86/1053 Leslie Walford's teddy bear, Collection: Powerhouse Museum

In 1986 Leslie Walford donated a flamboyant collection of clothing and memorabilia to the Powerhouse Museum. Including this charming musical teddy bear. It was a gift from his father who died when Walford was two. This little toy has now outlasted its owner and will be fondly associated with Walford’s exuberant and generous personality. Walford remarked – He seems to be a bear of quality and his expressive features indicate his benign character.

The donation included Walford’s Mr Fish psychedelic shirts, Nutters of Saville Row suits, a kangaroo skin coat, an Yves Saint Laurent safari suit and set of Christian Dior ties. The collection tells of a time during the 1960s and 1970s when men’s clothing was exciting and exuberant.

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86/1036, 86/1030, back of Mr Fish's psychedelic shirt and Milano trousers. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Leslie Walford’s dramatic aesthetic perfectly suited this time. His perspective on interior design was eclectic and colourful and led to a very distinguished career. After studying in Paris and London he became a prime mover in this field in Australia and served on numerous committees and foundations including the Art Gallery of New South Wales and the Powerhouse Museum.

Walford’s Double Bay penthouse was bursting with intriguing stories reflecting his life and objects such as Fortuny silk lanterns and paintings by Jeffrey Smart that he collected through his extensive interests, friends and travels. In 2010 he received the Member of the Order of Australia for service to the performing arts and to the profession of interior design.
Leslie Walford will be sadly missed.

Santa Claus, Kris Kringle, Pelz Nicol and Father Christmas

Although many countries call Father Christmas by other names the tradition of making Christmas decorations have familiar characters and colours, often rotund male figures with long white beards dressed in red and white. I found these delightful and somewhat unusual representations in our collection. They are part of a larger donation from the Monica Piddington Memorial Trust and were a gift from the Jindera Pioneer Museum to the Powerhouse Museum in in 1970.

Monica Piddington (1899-1967 )was born at Narrandera, NSW, and became a kindergarten teacher. In the 1930s she went on to become the first director of the famous Sydney Playways educational toy shop which opened in Dalley Street, near Circular Quay, and was owned by the Kindergarten Union. Apparently Monica travelled around the world collecting toys of ‘superior design, craftsmanship and quality’ making them available to Australian teachers, parents and children. Many of her toys seem to mainly come from Scandinavian countries. In the 1960s the shop moved to Clarence Street. After the Kindergarten Union decided to sell the business, it was taken over by the staff, all Early Childhood graduates, and re-opened as the Play House Toy Shop which operated from 1989 until 2007.

Post by Anni Turnbull

R.I.P. Colonel Sherman T Potter (actor Harry Morgan) 1915-2011

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2003/111/34-5 Detail of cast of M*A*S*H from toy packaging, 1978. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Like most Australians in the 1970s, my family were addicted to MASH, the witty and acerbic television show about life in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital during the Korean War. Every night at 7pm we would eat our dinner in front of the telly watching the antics of Hawkeye, Klinger, Hot Lips Houlihan, Frank Burns, Radar and others at the 4077th. I am sure it never occurred to me that the program gave substance to a real event. What did I know or care about the Korean War?

When the lovable commander of the camp, Colonel Henry Blake died, I was devastated. I cried during that episode and bitterly resented the new guy who was cast to replace him. I didn’t like the curmudgeonly Colonel Sherman T Potter and I suspect I wasn’t the only one. He was – dare I say it – old! He didn’t seem to fit the pace of the show in my nine year old mind. Morgan was quoted as saying of himself

I don’t know just why they called me, to be perfectly frank. In the third year, I played a sort of crazy general in one episode, and they liked me.

Progressively though, as his character developed and settled into the show ‘Sherm’ became one of my favourite characters. He had a twinkle in his eye and a cheeky grin, he loved his horse and when he lost his temper it made me laugh. His character certainly struck a chord with the audience. Morgan won an Emmy in 1980 for his portrayal of Potter. When the final episode of MASH aired in 1983 it is reputed to have been one of the most watched shows in US television history. The death of Harry Morgan at the grand age of 96 is a great loss to the film and television world and MASH lovers everywhere.

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Toy, M*A*S*H Head Quarters, licenced from the television show ‘M*A*S*H’, 1981. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

We have a number of toys in the Powerhouse Museum collection that were made under licence in 1978 to the MASH television show. They feature a picture of the cast, including Colonel Potter, on the packaging and probably date to Season 6 of the television show. These toys are part of a much larger group that were assembled by a private collector, who was quite particular in what he acquired. He only collected toy vehicles and robots licensed from television, film, comics books and so on. He never opened the packaging and did not play with the toys, so when they came to the Museum’s collection they were still in mint condition.

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Collection of toy army vehicles licenced from the tv show M*A*S*H, 1978. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Merchandising associated with successful television shows was not a new phenomenon. As early as the 1960s toy companies recognised the marketing opportunity of linking with popular tv programs. An ubiquitous product with a label linking it to a particular show could sell for more money than one without. This phenomenon really exploded in the 1980s with the boom in mass production and the increased use of plastic in toy construction. For popular culture junkies of a certain age, *cough*, these old style toys are a way of remembering the favourite programs of their youth.

But I digress. For people of my generation their first exposure to Harry Morgan was through Sherman T Potter and MASH. For my parents’ generation and older he was much more widely known for his roles in westerns, war and gangster films from the 1940s onwards and was a constant presence on American television from the 1950s. His career didn’t end with MASH. For the next two decades Morgan continued to be active in film and television. Harry Morgan had a long and varied career. For me though, he will always be Colonel Sherman T Potter and will live on in MASH reruns in perpetuity.

Rebecca Bower, Curator

Science Underground: Exotic Theatre of the South Seas

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85/1042 French children’s toy theatre, “La Pleine Mer” (The Open Sea), 1836, showing the three main elements, a sea background, waves in the centre and tropical vegetation foreground. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

After working at this Museum for decades I still find it breathtaking uncovering the treasures we have buried away down in our vaults. An academic from New Zealand emailed me to have a look at a French children’s toy theatre, “La Pleine Mer” (The Open Sea). I vaguely knew about it but never got it all out. What an amazing and incredibly rare object. You can think of it as natural history and French exploration colliding with education and entertainment for children.

The theatre has 27 printed and hand-coloured lithographic cardboard pieces with scenes set in the South Pacific. The backdrop has two French ships under sail, the middle ground a vaudeville-style group of five waves to give a bit of depth and a foreground of lush tropical vegetation around a reef battered by breakers.

The theatre, which was made J. Pintard, Rue Saint-Jacques, Paris, in 1836, has 6 scripts (in French) and lithographs produced by Charles Letaille. The idea was that an adult or older child read the script while younger children slid in or attached a number of loose pieces including boats and individual figures inserted into the scene as directed in the play.

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Collection Powerhouse Museum

This all sounds fairly standard for a children’s toy theatre until you look carefully at the content of the script, which we’ve had translated. They give the most amazing and exotic descriptions of maritime adventures and aspects of Australia, New Zealand, the Solomon Islands and New Guinea in the 1830s which couldn’t be more further removed from the lives of the wealthy French children for whom it was made.

One play, “The Whale” describes a whale hunt and tells children about the uses of whale products (whale rib bones for umbrellas and whale fat boiled on board in large vats for oil). It concludes with the gruesome description of the crampon-wearing sailors climbing over the carcass of the whale tied to the side of the ship to remove the ribs, skin and fat.

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Detail of a scene from the toy theatre’s “The Shark” play. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Another one, “The Shark” begins with a deceptively tranquil description of a ship becalmed in the hot tropics. The pace picks up quickly with nail biting anticipation as it is revealed that the ship’s master is repeatedly diving from the ship hauling himself up on a rope to cool off from the heat while a short distance away a shark’s fin creates a “frothing shimmering wake”. Climbing into a small boat, the sailors go to his rescue. Gripped with fear they “could all foresee the struggle that was about to take place between themselves and the shark; a terrible struggle with a man as the contest”. Ironically, the victim in the play ends up being the 16-foot shark which is split open by the ship’s cook. In a play which initially evokes terror the mood is transformed into humour when the sailors discover that a man’s otter-skin hat belonging to the ship’s doctor is inside the shark’s stomach. (Clothes and belongings hung over the side of ships were regularly eaten by sharks).

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Inspiration for theatre’s “The Shark” scene was taken from John Singleton Copley’s 1778 painting “Watson and the Shark” in the National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C. Image: Courtesy National Gallery of Art, Washington

The really interesting thing about the lithographic images and the content of the plays can be traced to paintings, books and journals of the period. According to Louise Mitchell, a former Powerhouse Curator, who wrote about the theatre in her article “La Pleine Mer Sailing over a cardboard sea” in “The Australian Antique Collector”, in 1988, the lithograph depicting New Holland natives tumbling from their capsized canoe while spearing fish, can be traced to an illustration by the Scottish engraver and miniaturist, John Heaviside Clark (c.1777-1863). Clark had never seen Australian aborigines but adhered to the popular European imagery of them as being noble and savage sportsmen. The illustration appeared in a book published in London in 1813 with the title “Field sports … of the Native Inhabitants of New South Wales”. The shark attack lithograph was derived from the well-known American romantic horror-painting of 1778 by John Singleton Copley (1738-1815) “Watson and the Shark”.

In keeping with most toymakers of the period, the theatre’s manufacturer, Pintard produced a variety of toys and related material aimed at educating children in art, geography, scripture, history and natural history. This theatre looked at navigation, maritime life, exploration, geography and the people of the Pacific. Advertising his stock at the conclusion of the “La Pleine Mer” script, he claimed that the moral teaching in its purest form is the basis of all these little educational works. Not only is this toy probably one of the earliest in our collection directly related to Australia but the stories, the humour, the melodrama and images are as fresh today as they were in 1836.

Miss Vanderfield’s Doll’s House

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2008/121/1 Janet Vanderfield's doll's house, 1942. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

It was a Tuesday morning. I was working on a PowerPoint presentation – a training session for our Museum volunteers, a couple of meetings were scheduled, labels were due at our Print Media department, public enquiries needed attention and the never-diminishing pile of acquisition documentation beckoned, then the phone rang. A softly-spoken older woman, Janet Vanderfield, wanted to know if we’d be interested in having her doll’s house. I immediately created a list in my head of the doll’s houses already in the Museum’s collection. There’s a modern one by Dinosaur Designs ; the 1930s one fashioned from an agricultural machinery packing case used on a property near Gunnedah, in North-west NSW; the tin-printed Mettoy one from the 1950s; one made from match sticks; a charming carved one by the British toymaker Yootha Rose; and the fabulous, over-the-top, 20-room Bosdyk doll’s house acquired last year and at least a couple more. We had lots already!

Nevertheless, I asked if it would be possible for her to take some photos of it and email them to me. No email, no problem, prints through the post would be fine. And would you happen to have any photos of yourself as a girl with the doll’s house? I always check, just in case. You’ll have a look. Excellent. I’ll look forward to seeing them.

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Janet Vanderfield aged 7 in 1942. Image courtsey Janet Vanderfield

A couple of weeks passed and a small envelope arrived with the requested photos. On top was a copy of a grainy photo of shy, 7-year-old Janet Vanderfield taken on Christmas Day in 1942 in the backyard of her Hurlstone Park (a Sydney suburb) home with her impressive Christmas present, a fine mock-Tudor doll’s house. It had been carefully carried out into the sunshine and Janet dressed in her best white voile dress for photos to send to grandma and the aunties in Scotland.

The other photos in the envelope Janet had taken herself depicted the doll’s house and its furniture, a microcosm of 1940s upper middle-class domestic life when entertainment came from the wireless in the lounge room and refrigeration was provided by the ice chest in the kitchen.

I learnt later that the doll’s house had been purchased unfurnished from the famous Sydney toy and model shop, Walther & Stevenson Ltd. Over a 5-year period Janet would often travel into “town” on the tram with her mother or auntie attired in hats and gloves and go into Walther & Stevenson’s to select a piece of furniture for the doll’s house. This phenomenon of the child collector was common in the 1930s and 40s, some children built up impressive lead toy farm sets and others Hornby train layouts.

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2008/121/1-14:16 Doll's house lounge room furniture. Can you spot the missing fire iron? Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Only special “careful” friends were allowed to play with Janet’s doll’s house. Auntie made the curtains, bedspread and cushions, and father put in the chunky 1940s electric lights. When she had outgrown the doll’s house Janet’s mother had tried to encourage her to give it to a nearby children’s home but Janet had received so much enjoyment gradually collecting the furniture she couldn’t part with it. The doll’s house remained in Janet’s possession for 66 years, immaculately maintained throughout her life and over that time only one small piece, a fireplace fire iron, had been lost. Although tempted to add contemporary pieces to the doll’s house she resisted.

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2008/121/1 Interior shot of the doll's house with 'Doll's House Dolly'. Collection: Powerhouse Museum

Because doll’s houses are bulky items to store once children have outgrown them they are not often kept and relatively few survive. If they do it’s extremely unusual for the original loose furniture to be retained as it’s always vulnerable to separation, change and loss over time. For Janet, an only child who never married, there was never the temptation to let her own children or nieces and nephew play with the doll’s house. It remained intact, a time capsule of Australian domestic social history and childhood in the early 1940s.

For Janet to give up her precious doll’s house with all its memories of her childhood and family must have been a wrench. I carefully documented her memories of it, and when it was chosen for display in the new acquisitions showcase in the Museum’s foyer, I invited Janet in and photographed it with her. She was delighted and was grateful to me for making the whole process of relinquishing her doll’s house easier.

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Janet Vanderfield with her doll's house on display in the Museum in 2008

The Museum has a large collection of toys, purchased in the 1980s, from an adult collector. They are a superb group of mainly tin toys and Hornby trains which have great visual appeal but they have no stories or memories associated with their use. Accordingly, Miss Vanderfield’s doll’s house was a wonderful acquisition and I feel privileged to have been involved in recording and perpetuating the memory of its use.

P.S. Later that year I went on to acquire yet another doll’s house with a completely different story and memories. It was made by staff at The Sydney Morning Herald and presented to eleven-year-old Elaine Sellers in 1946. Elaine’s father, Charles Sellers (Charlie), had always promised to make her a doll’s house. He was a very popular staff member at the ‘Herald’ working in the Compositing Section of the famous Sydney newspaper. After he tragically died of Malaria in a Japanese prisoner of war camp in Thailand in 1945 his colleagues at the ‘Herald’ decided to do something for Elaine and made the doll’s house. As a Curator I see my role increasingly being about recording these types of memories and stories.

There are other posts about the Bosdyk Doll’s House