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
Eddie Munster had no doubt his dad could do anything — even if Herman’s help usually caused more trouble than he meant to. This Cheerios commercial is a fun little Father’s Day-style reminder that to a kid, Dad is still the biggest hero in the house.
Happy Father’s Day to all the dads, granddads, stepdads, and father figures who may not be perfect, but are loved just the same.
One of my family’s favorite shows starring Dom DeLuise only lasted one season, but we never forgot it.
Lotsa Luck starred Dom as Stanley Belmont, a good-hearted working guy stuck supporting his mother, sister, and unemployed brother-in-law. It was loud, silly, and very much built around Dom DeLuise’s lovable, frustrated comedy style.
It may not have lasted long, but if your family watched it, chances are you still remember it.
This is what Saturday mornings looked like when the cereal bowl was full, the TV was warm, and the whole morning belonged to cartoons. ABC’s 1971 lineup brought together a wild mix of animated favorites, spooky fun, music, adventure, and live-action weirdness that only the early ’70s could deliver.
Did you watch ABC on Saturday mornings, or were you switching between channels?
The Johnny Seven O.M.A. was one of the ultimate “how did kids ever get this?” toys of the 1960s. Made by Topper Toys/Deluxe Reading, it came out in 1964 and was marketed as the One-Man Army — a giant toy weapon with several play features built into one.
This thing was not subtle. It could act like a machine gun, grenade launcher, rocket launcher, rifle, and detachable pistol all in one. For kids watching the TV commercial, it must have looked like the jackpot. One toy did everything. You didn’t just get a cap gun — you got the whole backyard battle kit.
But here is probably why so many of us never got one: the Johnny Seven sold for about $10.88 in 1964, which sounds cheap until you adjust it for today. That would be roughly $115 now, so this was not just some little toy tossed into the cart. This was a serious Christmas-present-level toy, the kind you hoped was under the tree but maybe understood years later why it wasn’t.
Looking back now, it feels almost impossible that this was once a mainstream toy. But in the mid-’60s, with war shows, spy shows, James Bond-style gadgets, and G.I. Joe all part of the culture, the Johnny Seven fit right in.
Did you have a Johnny Seven O.M.A., or was this one of those toys you wanted but never got?
Nanny and the Professor premiered on ABC on Wednesday, January 21, 1970, and ran until December 27, 1971. It starred Juliet Mills as the mysterious Phoebe Figalilly, better known as Nanny, and Richard Long as widowed Professor Harold Everett.
The show had a gentle Mary Poppins feel, with Nanny always seeming to know a little more than everyone else. Was she magical, psychic, or just very clever? That was part of the fun.
For many kids, it fit perfectly into ABC’s family lineup, especially when it aired on Friday nights near The Brady Bunch and The Partridge Family. It was sweet, quiet, and very much of its time.
Did you watch Nanny and the Professor? Did you think Nanny was magical?
This is one of those commercials that makes you stop and say, “Wait… is that who I think it is?”
In 1971, GAF ran a View-Master commercial starring Henry Fonda, of all people, giving the toy a grandfatherly stamp of approval. Sitting with the kids is a very young Jodie Foster, years before Taxi Driver, Freaky Friday, The Accused, and Silence of the Lambs. Some postings also identify one of the boys as Christopher Knight, better known to TV kids as Peter Brady.
The ad is pure early ’70s View-Master magic: kids gathered around, clicking through those little reels, while Henry Fonda explains the wonder of seeing pictures in 3-D. Before home video, before tablets, before YouTube, this was how a kid could “visit” Disney, see TV characters, travel the world, or look at dinosaurs from the living room floor.
A fun fact: View-Master had been around since 1939, long before it became mostly thought of as a children’s toy. Under GAF, the reels leaned more into kid-friendly subjects like cartoons, TV shows, and entertainment tie-ins.
Another fun fact: Jodie Foster was already a seasoned child performer by this point. She began working as a child model and actress in the 1960s, so this commercial came before her big teen fame in the mid-1970s.
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?
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?
Mighty Mouse Playhouse first aired on CBS Saturday mornings, beginning December 10, 1955. That date is important because the show helped put the idea of Saturday morning cartoons on the map.
Mighty Mouse had actually started earlier in theatrical cartoons from Terrytoons, debuting in the 1942 short The Mouse of Tomorrow. But TV is what made him a household name. CBS repackaged the older Mighty Mouse cartoons for television, and suddenly kids could see him right at home instead of at the movie theater.
The show had everything kids loved: a tiny hero with super strength, flying rescues, villains, danger, and that unforgettable theme line: “Here I come to save the day!” Mighty Mouse usually showed up just in time to save the helpless and defeat the bad guys.
Looking back, Mighty Mouse Playhouse feels simple now, but it was a big deal. It helped prove that Saturday morning could belong to kids, cereal bowls, pajamas, and cartoons.