The Toni Doll

The Toni Doll

In the early 1950’s, the United States was alive with freedom and hope for the future.  The sacrifices of World War II were fresh in everyone’s memory.  They recalled all too clearly how stamps were issued for rationing of sugar, butter, gasoline, and certain other consumer goods.  The G.I.’s from that war were grateful for their lives.  They determined to come home, get married, start a family, and leave behind the horrors they had seen.  The economy began a boom that reflected this country’s hope for the future.  My parents were no different in that expectation.
The main difference for our family was the fact that my father was never able to serve any military service.  A medical problem happened shortly after he married.  As newlyweds, they were poor and in love.  My mother related that on one particular day, as they were mischievously playing, she attempted to hit my father on his head.  As lovers sometimes do this and laugh, my father deflected her hand.  She hit him on his right ear harder than she planned.  His eardrum ruptured, and because of this was never healthy enough and was given a medical exemption.  This caused him embarrassment because he was young, strong, and didn’t appear to have a physical disability.  Additionally, his two brothers were already serving in the South Pacific.  He related that sometimes he would overhear people look at him and wonder out loud why he wasn’t in the Army when their sons were serving.  They thought he didn’t want to serve.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.
My parents were first generation Syrian immigrants.  Being poor was nothing new to them.  Besides, they lived through the Great Depression and learned many survival skills as a result of that period in their lives.  They were both raised in the melting pot of our city.  Shortly after the wedding, they moved about five miles away to a small town.  Most people in that town were of Irish, English, and German descent.  It took a little time for them to accept our family.  The smells of our food cooking was so different, and we looked different with our darker skin.  Slowly, however, as the children were born, they became friendlier.  My mother participated in activities at a local church.  Father worked part time tending bar at the local Legion and the rest of the time was a trash man.  Mother took a bus daily to work in the city at a garment factory.  Slowly but surely we became accepted.
Many people in that town planted vegetable gardens.  Foods that could be preserved for winter were planted to help keep food costs under control.  During the war, they called them Victory Gardens.  Many neighbors had fruit bearing trees that grew, for example, apples and peaches.  They were often generous and would allow us children to help ourselves to some of that fruit.  We were so delighted!  Fruit was such a luxury.  I remember that at Christmas time, Santa would visit the children at church and give them a small box of chocolates and an orange.  We often traded some of our candy for that orange.  As my brothers became older, they helped a local farmer pick potatoes.  When they finished picking, they were allowed them to take home all the potatoes that were left in the fields.  My brothers were pretty crafty.  Sometimes, they placed larger ones at the end of the rows to be recovered.  We had an unfinished basement with a large potato bin.  If there was nothing else to eat, we always had potatoes.  Mom baked her own bread.  It was all about survival at that time in our family history.
Even though money was scarce, Mom did her best to prepare for the Christmas holidays.  Not much money was spent buying us toys.  Gifts usually consisted of something we needed such as socks, underwear, gloves, and hats.  Even so, we were excited to get them.
The toys we had were often made from our imaginations.  Kites could be made from newspaper, sticks, and old rags.  The glue was flour and water.  Go carts were fashioned from old baby buggy wheels and scrap wood.  Peashooters were created from dried and hollowed tree branches and using the unripe berries from a tree.  There were airplanes and boats made from folding paper in the origami style.  Old car inner tubes were either used in the summer for floating on the river or cut into strips.  My brothers formed them with pieces of wood to create guns that would shoot off those rubber strips.  Mom always yelled at them for those “You’ll put someone’s eye out with them,” she hollered.  When we couldn’t go outside to play, a rousing game of cards filled the time.
The big radio in the parlor played wonderful and suspenseful shows such as “The Phantom” or other crime shows.  Comedy shows such as “Fibber McGee and Molly”, “Ozzie and Harriet”, and “The Aldrich Family” provided fun listening entertainment.
Dad eventually found full time employment at The Bethlehem Steel.  Mom continued in the garment factory.  Life started to become easier.  Television didn’t come into our home until 1953.  That changed everything.  Until that time, our world and reality was only what we saw around us.  Our neighbors and extended family provided only a slightly different image of how others lived their lives.  We only saw differences in movies, and that seemed unreal to us as children.  Now, family shows presented a new reality.  Their homes looked neat and tidy.  The kitchens were modern with all the newer innovations.  Before television, we rarely felt deprived.  Now we wanted our lives to reflect what we saw on those shows.  The commercials displayed so many consumer goods that we never saw before, and we were hungry for them.
Children’s television shows shouted about how we must drink our Ovaltine and wear Buster Brown shoes.  Corn Flakes became Sugar Corn Flakes.  Hopalong Cassidy and the Lone Ranger had lunch boxes we thought we couldn’t live without.  Everything was new and improved, bigger, and better.  Toys, pharmaceuticals, cigarettes, beer, and other companies who produced consumer goods quickly realized the power of the television commercial.  Beauty products targeted those new young housewives.  They bought the pitch…. hook, line and sinker.  The Toni Home Permanent wave product was introduced.  It became the craze, as women were able to do wave their own hair without going to a professional salon.
The Ideal Toni Dolls were a promotional item first produced in 1949 and connected with the Toni cosmetic company.  She was sold with her own home permanent kit. Everything mother had to perm her hair was reproduced in the Ideal Toni Dolls package.  There was a permanent solution made of sugar and water. There were also end papers and a comb, just as in the adult home permanent kits.  When the wave setting liquid ran out, mother just gave you the ingredients that were always on hand, and you were off again to concoct your own lotion, and to curl Toni's hair with her own plastic curlers. The individual who brainstormed that idea was a obviously a kind person, sympathetic to parents because if the Ideal Toni Dolls were on the market today, you would have to purchase more solution every time you set the dolls hair.  She sold for between $9.95 and 17.95.  This was not an inexpensive doll for that era, and every little girl I knew wanted her.
I was six years old when Christmas 1953 rolled around.  The television had become the center of our universe.  Radio shows were slowly phasing out.  The country had a new President.  The Cold War was upon us.  The A-Bomb was a constant threat to our security.  School children had mock raids and hid under desks to protect themselves.  It was worthless but brought some sense of safety to the very young.  We learned to hate the Russians, but also learned to want what we didn’t or couldn’t have.
For very young girls, The Toni Doll represented the vision of the perfect toy.  We had seen our mothers give themselves home permanents and wanted to imitate them.  The outstanding design, resilience and versatility permitted a child to play with the doll without easily damaging her.  The face was a sturdy hard plastic with chubby cheeks.  These dolls came with a variety of hair colors and different styles of clothing.  The hair was made of nylon and lengthened slightly as it was brushed.  Her arms and legs moved; and the eyes open and shut so you could have her standing, sitting or laying down.  Different outfits were available for sale.  In later years, household accessories such as kitchen and living room furniture were introduced so the little girls could play their favorite game of House.
Christmas morning was always exciting.  We rushed downstairs eagerly looking for presents from Santa.  The Christmas tree was a vision of colored lights and aluminum tinsel.  My parents never trimmed it until Christmas Eve and then told us that Santa had brought the tree and decorations.  My older brothers knew better but never spoiled my fantasy.  I opened my presents and found socks, underwear, and a dress but no Toni Doll.  Needless to say, I was disappointed and tried to hide my unhappiness.  We all learned early to not ask for frivolous things and knew that money was scarce.  The day continued with television, playing and Christmas Dinner.  Afterward, we made a trip to visit my Father’s sister and her family.
My Aunt and her husband lived in an apartment.  They had a daughter who was 18 months older than me.  She was my best friend.  We always played well together, and I looked forward to seeing her.  As we arrived at their home, we saw their beautiful tree and exchanged notes on the gifts we received.  Then, the magic happened.
My Aunt told us that there was one more gift for each of us girls.  My heart leaped.  “Ooohhh, another present!” we squealed.  The wrapping was so pretty.  It had brightly colored paper and a red bow!  It was a real box and not just a soft present such as when you wrap socks without a box.  We tore at the present like children possessed.  There she was!  Our very own Toni Doll!  We could barely contain ourselves! My cousin’s doll had strawberry blond hair and mine was a brunette. We giggled and laughed and played all day.  What joy!  The fantasy lasted the rest of the day.  The beautiful box that held her was carefully preserved so she’d be able to “sleep” in it.  Care was taken by both of us to maintain her pristine condition.  Finally, it was evening and time to depart for home.  The day’s events tired everyone.  Before bed, I tenderly placed my doll in a living room area that was safe and went to bed.
The day after Christmas still maintained some of the holiday excitement.  Leftover food stuffed the refrigerator.  The tree still beautifully graced the living room. School holiday continued.  Even though the weather was cold, snow provided great outdoor fun.  I slept late that morning and rushed downstairs to play with my Toni Doll.  No words can express the horror I found.  Disbelief!  My lovely doll was lying on the floor out of her box!  I picked her up and discovered that one of my brothers had given her a haircut.  This was not just any haircut but one so short and uneven that a perm curler could not be used!  Mom tried to trim the hair so it was even. It never looked like anything but a doll with a bad haircut.  No hair play for me.  No perm. No combing and brushing.  It was all ruined!  Were my eyes deceiving me?
Devastation is not a strong enough word for the crushing pain in my soul.  I cried uncontrollably.  She was the only doll I ever wanted.  I was the youngest and had three older brothers.  To survive with them meant to be a tomboy and play just as they did.  This girl type toy was something I silently longed for but dared not mention to my brothers lest they ridicule me.  The trauma never left me.  I pretended to play with her several times after that but the magic was gone.  No one ever admitted to doing the dastardly deed.  They all got punished.  The harm was done.  It didn’t matter anymore.  After awhile my mother told me to stop crying and get over it.  I learned to stop dreaming and pretended I was okay.
Pretending became a way of life.  When someone called me names, I pretended to not care.  When the other children in the neighborhood didn’t want to play with me, I pretended to not care.  When no one picked me for their baseball team, I pretended to not care.  When I wasn’t asked to my Senior Prom, I still pretended to not care.  I learned to build such a high wall around myself to keep away the pain. 
As I get older, the discovery of this pretense reveals a destructive as well as a useful component.  The masquerade of “acting as if’ is a tool.  Tools or implements are simply a matter of choice.  Perception of one’s self and their choices allow a situation to either positively or negatively impact them.  We see the world through filters.  To change what we see we can either remove the filter or change it.