Hair-Raising Fun
By Madonna Dries Christensen
Give a child a doll and within minutes she’ll probably undress it. Then she’ll fuss with the hair. In my play days (1940s), trying to comb or style a doll’s hair led to bad results and frustration. Washing the hair led to disaster. What a mess.
By the time of my daughter’s childhood (late 60s, early 70s) a doll’s hair was more functional. Among the most popular dolls of that era was Ideal’s Crissy series, with hair that “grew.” The front and top of the rooted hair and around the back of the neck remained stationary, about ear length and with bangs, but a button on the doll’s tummy allowed the middle of the hair to be pulled into a ponytail of full length or somewhere in between. A knob on the doll’s back pulled the hair into the head.
The dolls were ma
de of good quality hard vinyl and had appealing faces. The first Crissy appeared on store shelves in 1970 and stood 18 inches tall. She had dark sleep eyes and her red mane fell to her ankles.
Her dress and shoes were orange. On the later models the hair stopped at the waist and became the standard length for all Crissys. The original Crissy was followed by Velvet, Crissy’s 10-year-old cousin.
At 16 inches, Velvet was a towhead and had periwinkle blue eyes. Velvet had a little sister, Cinnamon, and the Crissy family grew to include friends Dina, Brandi, Mia, Tara, Harmony, and others. Some of the extended family was African-American. The faces on all the models had a similar look, and the common factor (except for Harmony) was hair that grew.
Baby Crissy (Caucasian or African-American) was 24 inches and plump as a six month old baby. But was she bald like many babies that age? Indeed not. Her long red locks would have made Rapunzel envious. Sold barefoot, Baby Crissy came in a variety of outfits called diaper sets (a short dress with a matching diaper). But because of her size, she could be dressed in baby’s clothing so she probably had plenty of hand-me-downs. Baby Crissy remained popular for years.
Like all teenage dolls before and since, the Crissy girls were fashionable, wearing mod and hippie styles of that era, and always with matching color shoes (same style on all).Their popularity today as collectibles might be partly due to the clothing, a true depiction of what young, hip girls wore at the time.
American Character Doll actually created and used the hair-growing mechanism first, in 1963 with pre-teen Tressy, and later fashion model Tressy and a Cricket series. When Ideal later obtained the patent and displayed Beautiful Crissy at the 1969 New York Toy Fair, credit for the design was given to Francis Amici, Robert David, and Richard Levine.
Subsequent models boasted improved hair quality, as well as agiltiy, making them more playful. Wearing an orange jersey mini dress and orange boots, “Movin’ Groovin” Crissy swiveled from the waist, doing the Chubby Checker Twist. She wore a rather drab brown dress but sported brown lace-up boots instead of the usual shoes. “Look Around Crissy’s” head and waist, on a string mechanism, turned as if you’d called her name and she looked around to acknowledge it.
Along came “Talky Crissy,” with the option of six or 12 recorded messages. The answers were random, so if a child asked the doll, “How are feeling today?” and then pulled the string, the doll might reply, “That sounds like fun.” Talky Velvet spoke only six phrases.
Regardless of what the dolls could do, the main attraction was, and still is, the hair. My granddaughters, a brunette and a blonde with waist-length hair, were delighted to meet Mom’s vintage Crissy dolls. They giggled as they pushed on the dolls’ stomach buttons and then on their own belly buttons, pretending to change their hair length. Seven-year-old Grace said she likes Velvet because Velvet’s eye color is like hers, and she likes the dolls’ hair because it can be short like Mommy’s or long like hers.
That’s the long and short of it; whatever the choice, it’s all about the hair.
*For more about this family go to Crissy Town; The UltraCrissy Web site: http://crissytown.8thman.com/index.html. You’ll find photos of the dolls and their accessories and factory boxes, even photos of the dolls sans clothing so you can see their front and back mechanisms (sounds racy, doesn’t it?). One photo places a doll alongside an Ideal Shirley Temple, showing the similarity between their body molds and revealing dimples on both sets of cheeks, front and back.
*****
The Peach
By Beatrice Chellis
It was one of those lazy fall days in October of 1946. The sun was warm and the air still.
Maggie gave a wave at the rest of the younger kids. She hurried to her favorite spot under the old maple trees. She would wait here for her brother.
Settling down among the fallen, dry leaves, she quickly opened her rumpled brown bag. Maggie thrust a chubby hand inside and yanked out a large, round peach. Golden in color with only a splash of pink, the fruit was gorgeous to the six year old.
She held the peach under her nose. Maggie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The fragrant scent stemming from the peach was overwhelming. It was a Hale Haven peach. Mama had told her that it was the best peach there was. Her small hands gently turned the peach around and around.
The soft fuzzy outer skin felt like velvet and Maggie did like velvet. Some of the linty fuzz drifted upward into her nose. She sneezed loudly. Her childlike laughter echoed across the empty school ground. She used the back of her hand to rub vigorously at her itching nose. Another sneeze and more laughter floated with the fall breeze.
At last Maggie opened her mouth as wide as she could and bit into the deep yellow of the soft, delicate fruit. Juice ran down her chin and spotted her dress. The sticky liquid oozed between her fingers. It slowly made its way down her arms and dripped from her elbows. She didn’t care. Nothing ever tasted this good!
Maggie thought how Mama and Daddy had driven to Mr. Peterson’s orchard and bought the yummy fruit. Then Mama and Grandma canned the beautiful colored peaches so they would have them to eat all winter long. How good they were when the winter snows flew and Jack Frost made paintings on their windows! There were always enough peaches so some could be kept to be eaten fresh. They didn’t last long, but Maggie was able to take one to school every day while they did. This was the last fresh peach they had and Mama had put it in her lunch bag that morning.
How sad, she thought. It would be a whole year before they would have any more of the luscious fruit. A whole year is a long time to a six year old. She had to make this last. Maggie took smaller bites and tried to catch the dripping juice. She licked her fingers and chewed slowly enjoying every second.
As she savored the meaty peach, her thoughts turned to her brother. He was five years older, but already doing the work of a man on their small farm. She thought of the twelve cows that he had to milk both morning and night. She also recalled Mama didn’t put a peach in Arnie’s lunch bag. This was the last one. Arnie didn’t have a peach today and no more at home.
The ringing of the school bell meant school was over for the day. The older kids hurried out the door calling their goodbyes to one another. Arnie came running her way. “Hurry up, Maggie. Let’s head for home. I have to do the milking by myself again tonight. Papa is still sick and not able to do it.”
“But first I saved you something. A surprise! Here!” Maggie shoved forth what was left of the peach.
"No, you eat it,” Arnie said.
"Uh-uh. You’re my brother and we share. If you had a peach and I didn’t, you’d share with me.”
Arnie reached out, taking the last piece of peach from his little sister, and popped it into his mouth.
“Isn’t it just the best?” Maggie said, excitedly.
“You bet!”
The small pig-tailed girl felt herself glow as golden inside as the yellow peach she had shared. Arnie grabbed his sister’s sticky hand. Together they raced out of the school yard.
*I remember my old one room schoolhouse. Marble School was situated in Eden Township of Mason County in Michigan. I recall many memories associated with it and our farm. I delight in writing by letting Maggie relive those memories of my early childhood. Arnold, my brother, was five years older then me and at this time was responsible for our farm, since my father’s illness prevented him from work. Arnie and I enjoyed many adventures together while growing up. The golden peaches of yesteryear are still my favorite fruit and now I have my own peach tree.