June 2026 - Page 4 of 8 - Retro Reminiscing Video and Pictures

Ho Ho Ho… Green Giant!

Some commercials you don’t just remember — you can still hear them. The Jolly Green Giant made vegetables feel bigger than life with that booming “Ho Ho Ho!”

The Green Giant character first appeared in advertising in 1928, but he wasn’t always the friendly leafy giant we remember. In 1935, ad man Leo Burnett helped reshape him into the smiling Jolly Green Giant.

The TV version most of us remember really took off around 1961, when “Ho Ho Ho” became his signature line and “Good Things from the Garden” became part of the campaign. The deep voice belonged to Len Dresslar, a Chicago singer whose laugh became one of the most famous sounds in advertising.

The Giant later got a young helper, Little Green Sprout, in the early 1970s. The campaign faded in and out over the years, but it never really disappeared. Even if he wasn’t always in the commercials, he stayed right there on the package.

Ho Ho Ho… Green Giant!

When Elvis Rocked the USS Hancock

On April 3, 1956, Elvis Presley made one of his early national TV appearances on The Milton Berle Show, but this one had a setting you don’t forget — the flight deck of the aircraft carrier USS Hancock.

The ship was docked at Naval Air Station North Island in San Diego, giving the live NBC broadcast a built-in military audience. There was Milton Berle, sailors packed around the deck, and a 21-year-old Elvis just as “Heartbreak Hotel” was making him a household name.

Elvis performed with his regular band — Scotty Moore, Bill Black, and D.J. Fontana — and sang songs including “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Blue Suede Shoes.” This was still early Elvis: before the full “Elvis the Pelvis” backlash, before the famous June 1956 “Hound Dog” appearance, and about two years before he was drafted into the U.S. Army in 1958.

Looking back, it’s such a perfect 1950s moment: Milton Berle, live television, a Navy aircraft carrier, and Elvis Presley bringing rock and roll to the flight deck.

The Frito Bandito

The Frito Bandito was introduced by Frito-Lay in 1967 as a cartoon mascot for Fritos corn chips. He was animated in early commercials by Tex Avery and voiced by Mel Blanc, the legendary voice behind Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig, and many others.

The idea was simple: the Bandito wanted your Fritos. With his sombrero, big mustache, pistols, and catchy jingle, he became one of those commercial characters kids remembered right away. The song, based on “Cielito Lindo,” made the ads especially hard to forget.

The campaign also drew complaints from Mexican-American groups who felt the character leaned too heavily on stereotypes. Frito-Lay softened his look over time, including removing the guns, but the character was eventually retired around 1971.

For many who grew up with late-’60s and early-’70s TV, the Frito Bandito is one of those ads that instantly brings back Saturday morning cartoons, snack commercials, and jingles you could still remember decades later.

Tags: Frito Bandito, Fritos, Frito-Lay, 1960s commercials, vintage advertising, retro commercials, Mel Blanc, Tex Avery, Saturday morning commercials, snack food ads, The Retro Site

ABC’s 40th Anniversary

ABC 40th Anniversary. How many faces or shows from the past do you recognize? 33 years later, do you think they maintained their reputation for quality and innovative television as they brag in this promotion?

When Guns Were Fun

There was a time when a kid could watch a Saturday morning ad and immediately know what he wanted next: a Dick Tracy gun set.

Mattel’s Dick Tracy line included the Snub-Nose .38 pistol with a holster and the Tommy Burst Machine Gun, both tied into the famous comic-strip detective. The ad was pure early-1960s kid fantasy: a young boy playing detective, saving the day, and turning the living room into a crime-fighting headquarters while Dad tried to read the paper.

The Snub-Nose .38 was the kind of toy that made a kid feel like an undercover detective. Add the shoulder holster, and suddenly you weren’t just playing cops and robbers — you were Dick Tracy. The Tommy Burst took it even further, giving kids the look of an old gangster-era machine gun, except now the kid was the good guy chasing the crooks. Collectors still identify the Tommy Burst as part of Mattel’s early-1960s Dick Tracy toy line.

Watching those ads now, it is almost shocking how casually toy guns were sold to children. No disclaimers, no bright orange tips, no nervous wording. It was just “here’s the cool detective gear,” and every kid understood the assignment. Back then, toy guns were part of cowboy shows, police shows, war toys, spy kits, detective sets, and neighborhood games that lasted until the streetlights came on.

Of course, times changed. Today an ad like that would probably cause a committee meeting before it ever made it to TV. But for kids of that era, the Dick Tracy Snub-Nose and Tommy Burst weren’t about violence. They were about imagination, sound effects, hiding behind the sofa, and yelling “I got ’em!” before your mother told you to take it outside.

Did you have one of these Dick Tracy guns — or was this the kind of toy you circled in the catalog and never got?

The Rifleman

If you grew up on TV westerns, The Rifleman was one of the shows that stood out right from the opening.

The series premiered on ABC on Tuesday, September 30, 1958, and ran until April 8, 1963. It aired for five seasons, with 168 black-and-white episodes, starring Chuck Connors as Lucas McCain and Johnny Crawford as his son, Mark.

The story was set in the fictional town of North Fork, New Mexico Territory, where Lucas McCain was a widowed rancher raising his son while also helping keep order when trouble came to town. He was not the sheriff, but with that specially modified Winchester rifle, he was usually the man everyone looked to when things got dangerous.

What made the show different was the father-and-son relationship. Yes, there were outlaws, gunfights, cattlemen, drifters, and plenty of western action, but at the center of it was Lucas trying to raise Mark with a strong sense of right and wrong. For a half-hour western, it often had a lot of heart.

And then there was that opening. Lucas McCain walking into the street and firing that rifle so fast it almost became the show’s signature before the story even began. If you watched it as a kid, that image stayed with you.

The Rifleman had the action kids wanted, but it also had a moral lesson built into many episodes. Lucas was tough, but he was also a father first. That gave the show something a little different from the usual shoot-’em-up western.

Did you watch The Rifleman when it first aired, or did you catch it later in reruns? And were you more interested in the fast rifle, or the way Lucas and Mark stuck together?

The Cisco Kid: One of TV’s First Color Westerns

Before television westerns filled the schedule in the 1950s, The Cisco Kid was already riding into living rooms.

The TV series began in 1950 and ran until 1956, starring Duncan Renaldo as Cisco and Leo Carrillo as his cheerful sidekick, Pancho. It was a syndicated show, so unlike a regular network series, the exact day and time could vary depending on the local station. The commonly listed television debut is Tuesday, September 5, 1950. The series ran for 156 half-hour episodes.

Cisco and Pancho were not the usual stiff western heroes. They had charm, humor, and a Robin Hood quality. They often helped people who were being cheated, bullied, or ignored by corrupt officials. The show was especially popular with children, who loved the horses, the action, the jokes between Cisco and Pancho, and the feeling that the good guys would always ride away smiling.

One thing that made The Cisco Kid stand out is that it was filmed in color, even though most families watching in the early 1950s were still seeing it on black-and-white television sets. That helped the show live on in reruns for years, especially once color TV became more common.

And of course, many people remember the playful ending: “Oh, Cisco!” “Oh, Pancho!” followed by the two riding off together. It was light, fun, and easy for kids to imitate.

Looking back, The Cisco Kid had the feel of an early TV western made for young viewers: simple stories, clear villains, loyal friends, fast horses, and a hero who could outsmart the bad guys without losing his smile.

Did you watch The Cisco Kid when it first aired, or did you catch it later in reruns? And did you ever find yourself saying, “Oh, Cisco!” or “Oh, Pancho!”?

The Lone Ranger: “Hi-Yo, Silver!” and the TV Western That Started Early

Before TV westerns took over the 1950s, The Lone Ranger was already riding across the small screen.

The series premiered on ABC on Thursday, September 15, 1949, making it one of the early major television westerns. It ran until 1957, with 221 episodes over five seasons. Clayton Moore played the Lone Ranger for most of the series, with Jay Silverheels as Tonto. John Hart briefly took over the role of the Lone Ranger during part of the run.

The character had already been famous from radio, but television gave kids the mask, the white horse, the silver bullets, and that famous call: “Hi-Yo, Silver!” The setup was simple and memorable. A Texas Ranger survives an ambush, puts on a mask, and rides with Tonto to fight outlaws and help people in trouble.

Looking back, The Lone Ranger had everything a kid could want in a western: a hero with a secret identity, a loyal horse, a trusted partner, clear-cut villains, and a story where good usually won before the half hour was over. It wasn’t complicated, and that was part of the appeal.

For many viewers, Clayton Moore became the Lone Ranger. He carried the role so strongly that even decades later, people still pictured him when they heard the William Tell Overture or the words, “Who was that masked man?”

Did you watch The Lone Ranger when it first aired, or did you catch it later in reruns? And when you heard “Hi-Yo, Silver, away!” did you want a mask and a horse of your own?

Did you have Shark Pack?

I felt that changing the discs to make it do different maneuvers meant you might as well have pushed it by hand. Was I wrong?

Shark Pack was a 1970s toy boat line from Ideal, and the big feature was its interchangeable program discs. Instead of radio control, you put in a disc, set the boat loose, and it would follow a preset pattern, turning or circling depending on which disc you used.

For the time, that was a pretty clever idea. It gave kids a way to “program” the boat before home computers and remote-control toys became common. The commercial made it look exciting, with the boats cutting through the water and changing direction on command.

Like a lot of toys from that era, the real fun probably depended on where you used it and what you expected from it. If you had a pool, pond, or enough room to let it run, Shark Pack may have been a lot of fun. If you were expecting total control, the disc-changing part may have felt a little less magical.

That’s why I’m curious. Did Shark Pack really live up to the ad, or was it one of those toys that looked better on TV?

Sugar Jets: Space-Age Cereal In A Bowl

Sugar Jets was a General Mills cereal from the 1950s and 1960s, right when everything “space age” seemed exciting to kids.

It actually started in 1953 as Sugar Smiles, a mix of sugar-coated Kix-style puffs and plain Wheaties flakes. Within about a year, General Mills dropped the flakes and renamed it Sugar Jets, giving it a much cooler, rocket-age identity.

The cereal fit perfectly with the times. Rockets, jets, astronauts, and outer space were everywhere in kids’ advertising, so a cereal called Sugar Jets sounded fast, modern, and fun before you even opened the box.

Its mascot was Major Jet, and later the cereal also had connections to cartoon advertising, including promotions with Rocky and Bullwinkle characters.

Betty Crocker didn’t become a cereal giant on her own. She was the trusted General Mills kitchen personality sometimes used to help sell foods, while General Mills handled the cereal aisle.

Looking back, Sugar Jets feels like pure mid-century breakfast marketing: lots of sugar, space-age excitement, cartoon tie-ins, and a name that made cereal sound like it could blast off from the kitchen table.