online community focused on sharing and reminiscing about video, audio, and images that stir our memories of the past – old television, theme songs, commercials, print advertisements, the sights and sounds you remember
I don’t know why, but this M&M’s commercial was a big hit in my family.
The whole joke was simple: a card game, a suspicious player, and the line, “These cards are marked!” Of course, they were not marked from cheating. They were marked with chocolate fingerprints, which led right back to M&M’s famous selling point: “Melts in your mouth, not in your hand.”
For some reason, that one line stuck with us. To this day, anytime someone in the family is playing cards, there is a good chance somebody will say, “These cards are marked!” That is the funny thing about old commercials. Some of them were only 30 seconds long, but they became part of the way families talked to each other for years.
I’ll never forget when we got our first Slip ’N Slide back in the 1970s. I had to be the first one to go down it. Ours did not have the fancy landing pad like this 1980s version. I slid down, kept right on going onto the lawn, and mud sprayed all over me, including my face! We all laughed! My brother still brings it up to this day!
The original Slip ’N Slide came along in 1961 and gave kids a cheap way to turn the front lawn into a water ride. Hook up the hose, get a running start, and hope you made it all the way down that slick yellow strip without sliding into the grass.
By the 1980s, Wham-O was still trying to keep the idea fresh with versions like Slip ’N Splash. It was the same basic summer fun, but with more emphasis on the splash at the end and the kind of over-the-top commercial that made every kid think they needed one.
Of course, most of us learned pretty quickly that the TV version always looked smoother than the backyard version. But on a hot day, with the hose running and everyone waiting for a turn, it still felt like the next best thing to having a pool.
In the 1970s, O.J. Simpson became one of the most recognizable pitchmen on television thanks to his Hertz commercials. The ads showed him sprinting through airports in a suit, briefcase in hand, while people cheered, “Go, O.J., Go!” It was a perfect use of his football image: fast, famous, smiling, and always on the move.
At the time, the campaign was a huge hit and helped turn Simpson from a football star into a mainstream TV celebrity. It is strange to watch now because the cheerful airport-running image became one of the most famous commercials of its era, long before all the later headlines changed how people looked at him.
The show aired from 1962 to 1966 and starred Ernest Borgnine as Lt. Commander Quinton McHale, the skipper of PT-73. McHale and his crew were stationed in the South Pacific, where they were supposed to be fighting the war, but most episodes were really about schemes, shortcuts, gambling, trading, and staying one step ahead of their commanding officer.
The breakout comedy came from Tim Conway as the nervous and clumsy Ensign Parker, and Joe Flynn as Captain Binghamton, who was always trying to catch McHale and his men breaking the rules. The crew also included familiar faces like Carl Ballantine, Bob Hastings, and for a time, Gavin MacLeod, years before The Mary Tyler Moore Show and The Love Boat.
What made McHale’s Navy work was that it had the setting of a war show, but the feel of a workplace comedy. McHale’s men were not polished heroes. They were lovable troublemakers who somehow got the job done when it mattered.
For a lot of viewers, it is remembered as one of those black-and-white sitcoms with fast jokes, big characters, and Tim Conway stealing scenes long before he became a legend on The Carol Burnett Show.
They were chewy, rod-shaped energy snacks developed after Pillsbury worked with NASA on foods astronauts could eat in space. The idea was that the food had to be compact, nutritious, not crumbly, and easy to eat, even in tight spaceflight conditions. Pillsbury then marketed them to the public during the Apollo era, when anything connected to astronauts and the moon felt exciting.
They came in flavors like chocolate, peanut butter, and caramel, and were sold as a “nutritionally balanced” between-meal snack. In a way, they were an early version of what we would now call an energy bar, only shaped more like a little chewy stick.
TRS write-up:
Pillsbury’s Space Food Sticks were the kind of snack that could only have come from the space-race era.
In the late 1960s and early 1970s, kids did not just want candy. They wanted something that felt like it belonged in an astronaut’s lunchbox. Space Food Sticks looked like little chewy rods and came in flavors like chocolate, peanut butter, and caramel. They were promoted as a nutritious between-meal snack, but the real selling point was right there in the name: space.
Pillsbury had worked on food for NASA, and the company turned that connection into a grocery-store snack kids could imagine taking all the way to the moon. They eventually disappeared from shelves, but for anyone who remembers them, Space Food Sticks were a perfect little bite of Apollo-era childhood.
Before the boxy Grumman LLV became the familiar neighborhood mail truck, the Jeep DJ-5 was the little right-hand-drive postal Jeep that seemed to be everywhere. It was simple, tough, and built for curbside delivery, with the driver sitting on the mailbox side and a tray inside for sorting letters.
These Jeeps were a common sight through the 1970s and 1980s, and in some places lasted into the 1990s before finally being replaced. It may not have been fancy, but when you saw one coming down the street, you knew the mail was here.
Phil Rizzuto pitched plenty of products in his day, but this Yankees/Dodge Boys spot is one of those commercials that could only come from its time.
Here’s “The Scooter,” a Yankees legend, selling a pair of gym shorts with the Yankees logo on one side and The Dodge Boys logo on the other. It is part baseball, part car-dealer promotion, and part early-’80s fashion statement.
But the real time capsule may be the ticket information. The ad tells fans they could get Yankees tickets at Yankee Stadium Gate 4, the Grand Central Station Ticketron booth, Ticketron computer outlets, Chargit phone reservations, AAA North Jersey Auto Club offices, or by mail to Yankee Stadium.
How many of those can you still use today? Basically one, and even that one has changed. You can still buy Yankees tickets at the current Yankee Stadium box office if tickets are available, but the old Gate 4 setup, Ticketron booths, Chargit phone ordering, AAA ticket outlets, and mailing a check feel like another world now.
Today it is mostly apps, websites, barcodes, and mobile tickets. Back then, you might have gone to Grand Central, called a number, walked into an AAA office, or mailed away for seats. Holy cow, what a different way to go to a ballgame.
Only on The Lawrence Welk Show could “One Toke Over the Line” somehow become a “modern spiritual.”
In 1971, Gail Farrell and Dick Dale performed the Brewer & Shipley song on the show, giving it the clean-cut Welk treatment. The funny part came afterward, when Lawrence Welk referred to it as a modern spiritual, apparently not realizing the “toke” in the title was not exactly Sunday-morning church material.
It does not seem like someone deliberately pulled one over on Welk. It was probably more of a perfect generational misunderstanding: a hit song with the word “Jesus” in the chorus made it onto one of TV’s cleanest shows, and everyone smiled through it like it belonged there.
That is what makes the clip so unforgettable. It is a perfect little time capsule of early 1970s television, where a song with counterculture roots could be polished up, dressed up, and served with champagne bubbles.
There was a time when the back of a cereal box could be almost as exciting as what was inside.
This Everything’s Archie Post Cereal commercial is a perfect example. In the late 1960s, kids could find Archie-themed prizes on specially marked Post cereal boxes, including cardboard records you could actually cut out and play. They were not exactly hi-fi, but to a kid, getting music from the back of a cereal box felt like magic.
The timing was perfect. The Archies were everywhere, with the cartoon band becoming a Saturday morning favorite and “Sugar, Sugar” turning into one of the biggest songs of 1969. So Post put Archie, Betty, Veronica, Jughead, Reggie, Sugar Bear, cereal, cartoons, and music all into one kid-friendly promotion.
Who else remembers cereal boxes that gave you something to do after breakfast?
Rocky and Bullwinkle was one of those cartoons that worked on two levels. Kids saw a flying squirrel, a goofy moose, spies, fairy tales, and silly adventures. Adults heard the puns, political jokes, Cold War humor, and smart little digs that went right over a lot of kids’ heads.
The show began in 1959 as Rocky and His Friends on ABC, then moved to NBC in 1961 as The Bullwinkle Show. Rocky was Rocket J. Squirrel, the brave flying squirrel, and Bullwinkle J. Moose was his well-meaning but not always brilliant best friend from Frostbite Falls, Minnesota. The show originally ran until 1964, with reruns continuing for years, including ABC Sunday mornings into the early 1970s.
What made it different was the variety-show style. You did not just get Rocky and Bullwinkle fighting Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale. You also got Fractured Fairy Tales, Peabody’s Improbable History with Mr. Peabody and Sherman, Aesop and Son, Dudley Do-Right, Bullwinkle’s Corner, and all those cliffhanger endings with ridiculous titles.
The animation was not fancy, even for its time, but the writing was the real star. Jay Ward and Bill Scott leaned into wordplay, satire, narrator jokes, and absurd situations. That is why Rocky and Bullwinkle still feels different from a lot of old cartoons. It was funny for kids, but it was also sneaky smart for the adults in the room. UCLA’s Hammer Museum called the series a “rare gem” and credited its wit to the Jay Ward team, including Bill Scott, June Foray, and the show’s writers and animators.
