Toy soliders march on 1993
Toy
soldiers aren't for kids any more, or so says James Delson, owner and operator
of the Toy Solider Company in Jersey City. He is the largest seller of toy
soldiers in the United States. Although his cusomters are adults, his business
is good.
"The
stress is on playing, not collecting," he said, "though we dod tell
peole they can rebuild the collection mother threw out when they went into the
army or college."
After
nine years in the business of marketing toy soldiers, Delson has learned that
two things sell: something new or something people had as kids.
Toy
soliders are largely a thing of the past, one of the casualties of the Vietnam
War, after which the whole industry took a nose dive. With the change of
national mentality, people seemed to frown upon anything remotely military. It
caused most companies to stop manufacturing quality toy soldiers.
"It
was parly Vietnam," Delson said. "But the nature of television also
changed the way children played. It wasn't given to historical subjects. They
even stopped making movies about history."
Even
the legendary GI Joe had cleaned up his act, trading Green Beret and other
military-oriented action accessores for those hunter, mountain climber and
other less war-like roles. While years later, GI Joe's military aspect again
became popular, toy soldiers remained off the mainstream manufacturer's lists.
Yet
guaging from Delson's success, some people still want toy soldiers.
Didn't
intend to get into business
Delson
never intended to sell toy soldiers for a living. He was a screen writer, not a
salesman.
"I
got into it by accident," he siad.
His
interest in toy soldiers started like many of his adult customers with play as
a kid. In high school, he began to accumulate quality toy soliders. He played
poker with other boys and bought the soliders with the winnings.
"I'm
very lucky," he said, though he did think to put some money aside for
college.
But in
1966, Britians -- one of the world's largest toy soldier markers -- offered its
lead soldiers for sale.
"They
were under an internation edict to stop making lead soldiers," he said.
Delson
took the $500 he had saved for college and bought as many lead soliders as he
could. But he was no collector. He played with those soldiers, recreating
authentic battle scenes out of history. In 1971, someone told him the led
soldiers were valuable.
"I
never thought to sell them before," he said.
When he
did, he was able to buy massive amounts of plastic soldiers from the profits.
From this and continued collecting, he was able to recreate huge battle scnes
that were historically correct in numbers and space. These often took up the
whole floor of a living room or someone's front lawn.
"This
was big scale," he said.
Other
career
During
this time, he was a successful freelance writer, seeling screen plays, critical
film reviews and other work to national publications. While none of his screen
plays were ever produced, they sold, and he rented an apartment in Paris where
he continued his search for toy soldiers, wandering the streets of the city
with his eye out for toy stores.
Early
in 1984, he began to review computer games and, through that and role playing
games like Dungeon's & Dragons, discovered a different aspect to game
playing. Instead of masses of nameless warriors, individual heros emerged like
Indiana Jones or Harold Godwinson or Robin Hood.
"Instead
of massive battles with more and more soldiers, now we had a few heros with
battles of 20 or 30 characters," Delson said.
His
collection of toy soldiers by this time was massive. Since he would never use
them all, he began to supplement his income by selling the excess. He looked
around and found magazines which wrote about toy soliders. He had no real idea
of what the value of these pieces were. He simply made them up based on his own
likes and dislikes.
"What
was near and dear to me went for a high price, what wasn't, I charged less
for," Delson said.
Again,
luck prevailed -- or perhpas he had a good sense of quality. His prices seemed
to match the current market value. He began to advertise. No one had marketed
on this scale before. There were a couple of mail order houses, but they had
limited selections. With the number of soldiers he had, he could supply almost
anything anybody wanted. Early sales needed him about $75 to $80 a week. By the
end of 1984, he had sold about $4,000 worth of toy soldiers. By the next year,
the figure was $30,000.
Delson
hired a secretary to help him, but still did business out of his apartment. His
first physical expansion was to rent a closet from an upstairs neighbor to
sotre some of the soliders. By early 1986, he realized he could make a living
out of this.
He
stopped writing for the magazines. As chic as freelancing seemed, it wasn't
steady income. Often pay came late. With the soldiers, he had to put out an
initial investment, but people stillhad to pay him up front if they wanted to
buy from him.
Then he
set up shop briefly in Brooklyn, but soon came across the river to Jersey City
looking for more space.
Now,
nine years after he started, he's into the business big time. He's listed in
Dunn and Brad Street. He has several full and part time employees. While he
isn't making a killing, he's increased his space from 5000 square feet to 7500.
"I
wonk 80 hours a week and make less money than my lowest employees. But it's a
chance to get a lot of soldiers," he said.
Making
a come back
Since
most of the cmpanies which made toy soliders in the past went out of business,
restocking was precarious. Marx, the biggest American manufacturer, folded in
1976. It's molds were sold off. A company has since started up in Florida,
calling itself Marx, but it only owns a portion of the original molds. The rest
are scattered all over the world. Delson said Marx produces now come from
places like Canada, the Philipines, Mexico, England, even the former Soviet
Union.
Other
manufacturers are even more difficult to track down, and getting big toy
companies back into quality soldiers has been a task. Several, however, have
been inspired by Delson's success, though don't predict making a fortune from
the product.
For one
thing, dealers are rare.
"There
are about three dealers who control 80 percent of the toy soldier market,"
Delson said.
One of
these is a wholesaler and store with about ten lines of soliders. Another is a
retailer and told soldier museum with about the same amount, and there is
Delson's company with 160 lines. He has about 4500 names on his mailing list
and now advertises in Military Times magazine, Civil War Times, American
History magazine, World War Two magazine, Wild West magazine, and others
including even The New Yorker and TV Guide. He also puts out a 300-page
catalogue, as well as the most comprehensive toy soldier guide in the world.
Yet
even as business improves at the Toy Soldier Company dominates the market,
Delson still plays. In one section of his warehouse, Delson has set up a
complete French city street from the French Revolution era, complete with
crowds, ships, buildings and guillotine. Business has, however, taken a toll.
He is married now with two kids and works 80 hours a week. This leaves him less
and less time for play, and the success of the business is still not certain.
The toy soldlier market, like anything else these days, is hardly rock solid.
Yet he consoles himself with one fact.
"If
business fails," Delson said, "I'll have all the toy soliders I'll
ever need for the rest of my life."
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