Maybe this is not a 1990’s thing but one thing that I remember from my childhood was the slider burger. You look around today and it was like it never existed. So I have created a blog post all about the great “Slider Burger”!

Sure, Ronald McDonald is larger than life, and Burger King established the elusive link between royalty and ground meat, but it was the slider that enticed America to bite on the burger. The slider, for the uninitiated, is the bite-sized (okay, maybe two-bite-sized), onion-drenched, pickle-covered burger that has made White Castle a fast-food legend, not to mention a standing culinary joke. The little treats are also known endearingly as “belly bombers,” “gut busters” and “whitey one-bites.”Go ahead and laugh. But prior to the birth of the slider 75 years ago, you couldn’t find a fast-food burger. You might be able to get a greasy ball of hamburger on a roll at the county fair, but no one was in the business of selling grilled patties. Thanks largely to “The Jungle,” Upton Sinclair’s stomach-churning book on the Chicago stockyards, most Americans had too much trouble getting past the image of rotting beef to develop a hankering for a dripping mound o’ meat.

Along came Walt Anderson, a Wichita, Kan., short-order cook. He was inspired to flatten the meat onto a bed of water and onions, steam the lot and slide it all onto a heated bun to retain the juices. He started selling them in renovated streetcars, then in 1921 teamed up with Wichita real estate man E.W. “Billy” Ingram. Together they borrowed $700 to go into the hamburger-stand business. They thought big thoughts, calling their five-seat, cinder-block diner “White Castle” — White “signifying purity and cleanliness” and Castle representing “strength, permanence and stability.” For all the grand imagery, the place cranked out ’20s finger food — palm-sized, square burgers that sold for a nickel. But nobody bought just one, which brought more inspiration. Soon they were selling them by the “sack” — a bag of 10. And so, burgers-to-go was born.

With neon blazing, White Castle tore up the fast-food business, or what there was of it, by standardizing its product and keeping everything simple. It made restaurants of shiny porcelain steel modeled after the turreted Water Tower building in Chicago and designed to be easily moved if necessary. By 1930 there were 100 White Castle diners, all owned by the company and all as spare as the menu — burgers, coffee, Coca-Cola. That’s it. In 1931 came another breakthrough — containers that kept the burgers warm. In the 1940s another evolutionary leap: White Castle began selling fries. A few years later it created its trademark five-holed burger — the holes allowed cooks to steam the patties without having to flip them. By then Ingram had bought out Anderson and moved the headquarters to Columbus, Ohio. And by then White Castle had turned the corner on fighting burger phobia.

It took some imagination. The company dispatched “Julia Joyce,” its own version of Betty Crocker, to women’s clubs to deliver slider recipes, coupons and invitations to see how clean the restaurants were kept. To calm fears about the dubious nutritional value of it product, the firm commissioned a university study in which a medical student lived on nothing but water and White Castle burgers — about two dozen a day — for three months. He survived.

Slowly, as other burger operations came on the scene, White Castle turned bold. It plunged into selling shakes in 1956, and in 1962, the year after it became the top burger chain in the country, it pulled out the stops and introduced cheeseburgers. Before long, however, the Castle would no longer be king. Today the company has 299 restaurants; McDonald’s opens a new location about every 299 minutes.

But White Castle will always be mythic in fast-food lore: The stories of famous slider junkies — Frank Sinatra, Elizabeth Taylor, Vanna White, Ray Charles, Willard Scott. The tales of great feats — Indiana native Jug Eckert once ate 102 gut busters to win a bet. The inspiration for stunning culinary expression — as part of a contest, an Illinois woman named Amy Jackson proposed the Dessert Slider Surprise: “Coat 10 White Castle hamburgers with dark chocolate, insert a popsicle stick and freeze.”

Mr. Potato Head Toys from the 1950’s

Mr. Potato Head was born in 1952! He met and married Mrs. Potato Head in 1953 and they promptly had a Baby Potato Head. In the beginning, you had to supply your own potato (or other vegetable). The sets included bodies without heads, shoes, arm, eyes, noses, ears, hats, felt eyebrows, mustaches and eyelashes, and real hair for Mrs. Potato Head!

Hasbro claims that Mr. Potato Head was the first children’s toy ever to be advertised on TV! Mattel says that one of their toys, a Mickey Mouse guitar, was the first toy advertised on TV. We don’t know who’s right, but we’d pick Mr. Potato Head any day!

Check out the original 1950’s video right here:

Mr. Potato Head Toys from the 1960’s

In the 1964, Mr. Potato Head acquired a plastic head to go on top of his previously supplied plastic body. This addition may have been prompted by Moms complaining that their kids’ REAL potato heads were sprouting eyes and getting moldy! Jumpin’ Mr. Potato Head premiered in 1966. The 60’s also saw the addition of many new “Tooty Frooty” Potato Head friends and “Picnic Pals” as you can see below! We think the new logo (see above) also began to grace packages during the late 60’s.

The Frenchy Fry and Mr. Soda Pop Head Set was one of the 3 “Picnic Pals” assortments that came out in 1966. The others sets were Frankie Frank w/Mr. Mustard Head and Willy Burger with Mr. Ketchup Head.

And now check out the original 1960’s Mr Potato Head advert:

Mr. Potato Head Toys from the 1970’s and 1980’s

We’re sketchy on information about this era. What we do know is that in 1974, Mr. Potato Head doubled in size. He got a new, larger dark brown plastic body. In 1979, they came out with Super Mr. Potato Head, who had a huge plastic head, but no arms! Around 1983, Mr. Potato Head got his current light tan body and the arms came back. At first, these arms were bendable and you couldn’t remove them. Later, they became removeable, but not bendable. There was a proliferation of Potato Head Spin-Off toys, as well, but we’re not sure about intro dates.

In 1984, Hasbro acquired Playskool, and after that, all Mr. Potato Head packaging started sporting the Playskool logo. The Potato Head Kids were featured in a Hasbro TV show in 1986 (”My Little Pony & Friends), so a lot of toys came out that year. In 1987, Mr. Potato Head gave up his pipe and quit smoking when he became the spokespud for the Great American Smoke-Off! So only pre-1987 spuds have pipes.

And check out the 1980’s Mr potato head advert:

Mr. Potato Head Toys from the 1990’s

In 1995, Mr. Potato Head co-starred in Disney’s hit film, “Toy Story.” Suddenly, he was popular all over again!

There are now also dozens of non-toy products, such as ties, tee-shirts, greeting cards and many other licensed products on the market since 1995.

In 1996, Mr. Potato Head got a new logo! You should see it on all packaging since then!

And now check out the 1990’s advert that is advertising Apple power mac but contains a 1990’s Mr Potato head:

So where next for Mr Potato head? Add your comments on what you see Mr Potato Head doing in the year 2008!

Things fall all the time. It’s the gravity thing. But every once in a while something tumbles and someone notices and the world is never the same. Take Newton’s apple. And then again in 1943 when mechanical engineer Richard James noticed a torsion spring fall off a shelf and come to life as it moved over a table and on to the floor. There is no evidence he yelled, “Eureka,” but James did take the spring home and tell his wife Betty, “I think I can make a toy out of this.”

OK, so Slinky didn’t change the world, but James’ sharp eye did give us one nifty little plaything. And one with real staying power. Since becoming the hit of the 1946 American Toy Fair, Slinky sales have totaled more than 250 million — roughly one for every man, woman and child in the United States. And this from a toy that can’t talk, fire rockets or wet itself.

Still for all its simple charm, the Slinky was no overnight success. It took Richard a few years to find steel wire that would coil, uncoil and recoil with the grace of Astaire.

In the meantime Betty scanned the dictionary for a fitting name. She zeroed in on Slinky because it meant “stealthy, sleek and sinuous.” And so with $500 of borrowed money, the couple started making Slinkys. At first their product, with no name recognition, didn’t exactly roll off the shelves. Desperate to cash in on the Christmas rush in late 1945, the Jameses talked a buyer from the Gimbel’s store in Philadelphia into letting them do a demonstration. Fearing the worst, Richard slipped a buck to a friend to make sure at least one Slinky was sold.

But that snowy night Slinky ruled. All 400 toys sold in 90 minutes.

With a big boost from the following year’s toy fair, Slinky sales soared. Richard designed the machinery that could transform 80 feet of wire into two inches of coiled fun. Slinky rolled on, joined in 1950 by the cuter, compact Junior Slinky. But alas, in 1960 the toy story turned tabloid tale. Concluding that being the Slinky King wasn’t enough, Richard James bailed out for Bolivia, joining what Betty describes as a religious cult. She, meanwhile, was left with the company, six kids and a load of debt, largely the result of her husband’s largesse toward his spiritual suitors.

But Betty saved Slinky, selling the Philadelphia factory and moving the operation to the small, western Pennsylvania town of Hollidaysburg. She steered its comeback with co-op advertising and a simple jingle that remains lodged in the brains of Baby Boomers everywhere. (”It’s Slinky, it’s Slinky, for fun it’s a wonderful toy/It’s Slinky, it’s Slinky, it’s fun for a girl and a boy. …”) There have been few other changes. The prototype blue-black Swedish steel was replaced with less expensive, silvery American metal; later a plastic model was added. For safety reasons the Slinky’s ends were crimped in 1973. Clever people have found other uses for James’ toy, most notably soldiers in Vietnam, who found it made a great radio antenna when strung over tree branches. But today’s Slinky is not much different from the original. It’s still made on Richard James’ machines. And at $2, it costs only twice what it did 50 years ago.

Betty James, now 88, still runs the company. And business is as good as ever, thanks in part to a strong supporting role for the Slinky Dog in last year’s Toy Story. This was not, however, Slinky’s big-screen premiere; the toy claimed a cameo in John Waters’ Hairspray and an even more memorable role in Jim Carey’s Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls. It is so deep in our culture now that not only does Neiman-Marcus sell an $80 gold version but also, according to a recent survey, 90 percent of Americans know what a Slinky is. Which makes you wonder: What gives with the other 10 percent?

I don’t know exactly how long I’ve loved Slinkys. I never truly appreciated them as a child, but when I reached my second childhood, I saw the light…shimmering off of its coils…

A Slinky is not just a toy, its a physics project, stress-reliever, radio antenna, weapon…it can be anything that you want it to be!

The Slinky is also a famous Hollywood and TV star! It has shown up in movies like: Ace Ventura 2, Hairspray, Toy Story, Demolition Man, and Other People’s Money! (as well as many other movies) And not only is the Slinky TV jingle one of the most recognized in America, MTV’s The State has even did a skit on the Slinky.

Why has the Slinky endured so long in a world where toys come and go in the flash of one Christmas season?

Its a simple toy in the world of lights and buzzers and complicated technology. It is a toy that brings back memories. Grandparents and parents remember the fun they had as children with Slinkys and buy their children or grandchildren one.

The Slinky is a tool for the imagination, and so will outlive the Barbies and GI Joes. And when the adult is cringing at the thought of once succumbing to the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, they will fondly remember the Slinky (if nothing else how they destroyed theirs).

Looks like this guy may even love Slinkys more than me: