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Chatty Cathy was one of the dolls that made kids stop and stare back in the early 1960s. Introduced by Mattel in 1960, she became famous because she did more than just sit there looking cute. Pull the string, and Chatty Cathy would actually talk.
Her voice was provided by June Foray, who also voiced Rocky the Flying Squirrel, and the doll became such a pop culture memory that she even helped inspire the creepy “Talky Tina” doll from The Twilight Zone. Decades later, GEICO used a Chatty Cathy-style parody in a commercial, proving that people still remembered the idea of the pull-string doll that just would not stop talking.
Sweet, simple, and a little bit magical, Chatty Cathy became one of the great talking toys of the era.
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.
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.
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.
Hey, it’s Saturday, and for a lot of us, that used to mean bath night!
Mr. Bubble made bath time feel less like a chore and more like something to look forward to. The famous line, “Mr. Bubble gets you so clean, your mother won’t know you,” worked because it sounded like it was made just for kids. It turned a regular bath into a funny little promise: you would come out so clean, you might look like a different kid.
It was also classic 1960s advertising. The line was simple, catchy, easy to repeat, and just exaggerated enough to stick in your head. Kids heard “bubbles and fun,” while mothers heard “clean child, no bathtub ring, and inexpensive.”
And for anyone who remembers Saturday night baths, there was nothing quite like a tub full of Mr. Bubble.
Thumbelina was introduced by Ideal in 1961 and quickly became one of those baby dolls that stood out because she actually moved. The original was a wind-up doll, and once wound, she would wiggle and squirm like a real baby, making her feel more lifelike than many dolls of the time.
Thumbelina stayed popular through the 1960s and into the 1970s, with different sizes and versions along the way. Then in 1992, the name was brought back with Tyco’s Twinkling Thumbelina, but that version was updated for its time as a battery-operated doll rather than the original wind-up style.
For many, though, the classic 1960s Thumbelina is the one they remember best — the baby doll that moved just enough to make a child believe she was almost real.
With four other brothers to keep busy, Mom and Dad scored big with all of us when they brought home the Carry-All Action Playsets by Marx. These kept us entertained, and probably more importantly, quiet for hours.
You had to be careful with the pivot joints and mounting points, but other than that, these playsets could take a lot of abuse. I had Fort Apache, and one of my younger brothers had the Fighting Knights set.
Surprisingly, my Marine sergeant dad did not get us the Army Men set, but it did not matter much. No matter which one you had, these Carry-All playsets brought hours and hours of fun.
T.H.E. Cat was a 1966–67 NBC action series starring Robert Loggia as Thomas Hewitt Edward Cat, a former circus aerialist and cat burglar who now worked as a bodyguard.
The show fit right into the mid-’60s wave of stylish spy and crime shows like The Man from U.N.C.L.E., I Spy, Batman, and The Green Hornet, but it had a darker, jazzier feel. Cat used stealth, acrobatics, and street smarts instead of gadgets, operating out of a nightclub called Casa del Gato.
NBC aired it Friday nights after The Man from U.N.C.L.E., hoping to keep that cool adventure audience watching. It only lasted 26 episodes, but for those who remember it, T.H.E. Cat remains one of those sharp, moody little shows that felt different from the usual TV heroes of the time.
