Clowning around: Cheery clown collectibles

by Donald-Brian Johnson | Feb 26, 2026 | Donalds, Features, Smack Dab in the Middle

March 2026

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

Clowning around: Cheery clown collectibles

by Donald-Brian Johnson

“Be a Clown! Be a Clown!
All the world loves a Clown!”
– Cole Porter, 1948

OK, maybe not “all the world.” If memories of “Pennywise,” the evil clown in Stephen King’s It, still have you shuddering, then you and Cole Porter might find yourselves at odds. For everyone else, those brightly painted faces, big red noses, multicolored costumes, and oversized shoes mean good times are on the way!

Circuses. Carnivals. Parades.

All sorts of charity events. If it seems like clowns are everywhere, well—they are. And they’ve been hopping out of those little cars and spreading their particular brand of joy for ages.

The first clowns entertained the imperial courts of Egypt (2400 B.C.) and China (1000 B.C.). In some early societies, court clowns even served a triple purpose, as funnymen, magicians, and religious figures. By the time clowning made its way to the theatres of ancient Greece and Rome, the clown characterization had evolved to that of a country bumpkin. And, while court jesters amused royalty with their antics (not to mention those jingling caps and shoes) during the Middle Ages, Shakespeare’s “Fools,” in his Elizabethan plays, brought bumpkins back to prominence.

Hmmm. These don’t sound much like “Bozo,” do they? Where was the whiteface? The wild wig? Enter Joseph Grimaldi.
In the early 1800s, Grimaldi took the London stage by storm. His costumes were a bizarre mix of colors. His face was plastered in white, accented by red cheek highlights. The wig was there, too–not carrot-y like Bozo’s, but a blue Mohawk. He did high leaps and headstands. He sang and offered impersonations. He even presented a boxing match—with himself! Viewing Grimaldi’s success, other clowns quickly slapped on the whiteface, pulled on the baggy pants and wigs, and climbed aboard the circus wagon. Clowning was no longer just the filler during the main event. Thanks to Grimaldi, clowning now was the main event. By the mid-20th century, no circus was complete without a clown (or better yet, a whole carful of them).

Modern clowns came in many types. There were “tramp clowns” like Emmett Kelly and Charlie Chaplin. Rodeo clowns. Sophisticated whiteface clowns like “Frosty” Little. Much less sophisticated whiteface clowns like Bozo and Ronald McDonald. (Here’s an interesting clownfact: did you know that weatherman Willard Scott once played both Bozo and Ronald McDonald?)

And, of course, there were “evil clowns,” from Pennywise to Batman’s “The Joker,” eager to scare us silly (There’s even a name for clown fright: it’s “coulrophobia”).

Learning the ABCs, graphite, and watercolour

Clown on bicycle souvenir figurine with “Storyland, Florida,” sticker. By Yona, 6” h. (Image courtesy of the author)

Ready to brighten any room: plaster clown wall plaque, 8-1/2” h. (Image courtesy of the author)

But regardless of type, audiences loved clowns, and so did artists. The no-holds-barred nature of colorful clown makeup and costuming meant no-holds-barred artistic interpretations of clowndom. There were ceramic clowns. Glass clowns. Tin, pot metal, plastic, marble, and plaster clowns. And, since clowns could do almost anything onstage, so could clown figurines. Clowns were posed banging drums, roller skating, twirling canes, riding bikes, and riding piggyback. But why stop at just static poses? There were so many helpful functions a clown could perform. Among the many: clown banks, juicers, decanters, ashtrays, salt-and-peppers, mugs, napkin rings, spoon rests, tea sets, cookie jars, planters, vases, egg cups, table lamps, and lighting fixtures.

Although many clown figurines were imported or unmarked, some design “names” celebrated red noses, including Shawnee, McCoy, Royal Copley, Royal Halburton China, Royal Doulton, and Murano. Prices remain something to smile about, ranging from $15 to $100, with works by those “names” on the higher end. Since most clown figurines were mass-produced, their grinning faces often turn up at estate sales, auctions, antique shops, and online. You’ll find them all definite day-brighteners (well, maybe not Pennywise). And always remember:

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com

My funny valentines – Ribticklers from Topps

by Donald-Brian Johnson | Jan 26, 2026 | Donalds, Features, Smack Dab in the Middle

February 2026

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

My funny valentines – Ribticklers from Topps

by Donald-Brian Johnson

“You’re my funny Valentine,
sweet comic Valentine,
you make me smile with my heart!”
– Lorenz Hart, 1937

In the musical Babes in Arms, the “Valentine” being sung about was actually another character. And, just like the lyrics say, he was both “sweet” and “comic.” But when it comes to the cards which fill our mailboxes each Valentine’s Day, “sweet” and “comic” didn’t always go hand in hand.

Recently, while poking through souvenirs from bygone days, I came across a carefully preserved packet of Topps “Funny Valentines,” dating from 1959 and 1960. When it came to the last word in knee-slapping hilarity among young Baby Boomers, Topps was definitely tops!

The Topps format was simple: each card had a colorful front with a sweetly traditional message: “You’re like sugar candy!” The comedy came on the reverse: “Sticky and gooey!!”

Cards like these never made it to the hand-decorated valentine box which held a place of honor on each grade-schooler’s desk. These were cards for trading, just like Topps baseball cards—and trading took place out on the playground during recess. Discovery during class meant after-school hours diligently scribbling “I will not. . .” (etc.) over and over on the chalkboard.

Although Topps “Funny Valentines” were brand-new to bright-eyed schoolkids, the idea behind them had been around for awhile. Ever since traditional valentines were introduced in the 1840s, “vinegar valentines” with much sourer sentiments were also on the market. These cards were actually sent, often anonymously. A quick check of some opening lines (“To A Wolf”; “To A Professional Scandal-Monger”), and it’s easy to see why. Apocryphal stories abound of vinegar valentines leading to fistfights between formerly friendly neighbors, and postal employees disposing of the cards before they reached their intended recipients.

Topps #19A (FRONT): He sounds sincere. . . (BACK) . . .and he probably is! (Images courtesy of the author)

Topps #14A (FRONT): And what would that be? (BACK): Probably not this! (Images courtesy of the author)

Collecting both complete sets of Topps Funny Valentines meant chewing an awful lot of big sticks of gum. In 1959, 66 were released; another 66 followed in 1960. Fortunately, the cards were numbered, making life easier for card traders then and collectors today (the letter “A” by the 1960 numbers distinguishes them from the 1959 ones). Davis also designed a series of “Giant” Funny Valentine cards in 1961, but their size made them less handy for trading (and more trouble to sneak into the classroom). Most Funny Valentines, even those in mint condition, sell online for $2-$3. While a jump from their original nickel price, the cards remain a sweetheart of a deal.

In the early years of “vinegar valentines,” an outraged New York Times editorial referred to their senders as “hydra-headed monsters who gloat over distorted effigies of human nature and cruel cutting things in rhyme.” By the time of their mid-20-century moment in the sun, Topps Funny Valentines had drained away all that Victorian vitriol, leaving in its wake cards that were silly enough to chuckle over, wild enough to whisper about, and just the thing for would-be young “rebels:” sweet (well, maybe not so sweet), comic valentines.
Now, does anyone have a #3 they’d like to trade for a #64-A? Meet you at the playground!

Topps card humor was much tamer. Sort of what you’d find in MAD magazine, which was especially fitting, since they were the work of a longtime MAD illustrator. Jack Davis first achieved acclaim in the early ‘50s for his depictions of the “Crypt-Keeper” in the lurid EC Comics favorite, Tales From The Crypt (“They looked at my work,” said Davis in a Wall Street Journal interview, “and it was horrible, and they gave me a job right away!”). His ability to bring zany characters to life—and to do so quickly—caught the attention of Harvey Kurtzmann. When Kurtzmann’s first issue of MAD hit the newsstands in 1952, so did Davis’ illustrations. In a Davis drawing, heads were oversized, facial features were exaggerated, and clothing was rumpled. His detailing was careful, but appeared off-the-cuff, and his scratched-in, somewhat unfinished backgrounds added dimensionality.

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com

Here comes Santa Claus!

by Donald-Brian Johnson | Dec 1, 2025 | Donalds, Features

December 2025

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

Here comes Santa Claus!

by Donald-Brian Johnson

“Here comes Santa Claus,
Here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus lane!”
– Gene Autry & Oakley Haldeman, 1947

Santa. St. Nick. Father Christmas. No matter what they call him in your neck of the woods, it’s Christmas time again, and. . .he’s baaaack!

Although the custom of Christmas gift-giving originates with the Three Kings, the legend of Santa Claus dates to the fourth century. Stories of his origin vary, but here’s one favorite:

The setting was Asia Minor, where a down-on-his luck nobleman found himself unable to cough up dowries for his three daughters. Enter St. Nicholas, a kindly (and well-to-do) bishop, who crept to the man’s home one wintry eve. With exceptionally good aim, he tossed the three bags of gold he’d brought along through an open window. They conveniently landed in three stockings left hanging to dry before a roaring fire. The result: dowries for each daughter. Thanks to some sleuthing on the part of the happy nobleman, his mysterious benefactor was identified, and tales of the generosity of St. Nicholas soon became legend.

Early helpers of St. Nicholas (i.e., parents), stayed with the stuffed-stocking theme, although bags of gold were quickly replaced by apples, oranges, candies, and small, homemade toys. Other cultures offered their own variations. Children in the Netherlands filled wooden shoes with hay, for the horses accompanying “Sinter Klaas” (that’s Dutch for “St. Nicholas”). The next morning, delightful goodies had miraculously taken the place of the hay. Italian children waited until Jan. 6, the “Feast of the Three Kings,” for the arrival of “La Befana,” who filled their empty shoes with treats. For Puerto Rican boys and girls, the Epiphany was also eagerly anticipated. Tiny boxes filled with munchies for the Wise Men’s camels — leaves and other vegetation — were replaced by morning, with the sort of munchies human children enjoy.

St. Nicholas made his way to America with Dutch immigrants in the 1600s. Mispronunciations of “Sinter Klaas” by those unfamiliar with the language eventually resulted in the name we now know and love: “Santa Claus!”

A standing Santa, red velvet and white plastic costume, papier- maché head. 13-1/2” h. (Image courtesy of the author)

Santa Claus, as baby-boomers remember him. A treeful of smiling Santas, by artist George Hinke, graces the cover of Ideals, 1950 holiday edition. (Image courtesy of the author)

Initial depictions of Santa offer us a thin man with a long, scraggly white beard, clad in what appears to be a hooded, floor-length red bathrobe. Even Clement Clarke Moore’s 1822 poem, “A Visit from St. Nicholas,” which cemented in the popular consciousness such images as “stockings hung by the chimney with care,” “eight tiny reindeer,” and unannounced entrances via chimney, referred to Santa as a “right jolly old elf.” Early illustrations accompanying Moore’s poem accented Santa’s gnomish, elf-like appearance (Moore is said to have based the characterization on his right jolly old handyman, Jay Duyckinck).

The image of a roly-poly, human-sized gent in red suit and fluffy white beard came courtesy of Harper’s Bazaar illustrator Thomas Nast in the 1860s. That visual, refined since then in countless Coca-Cola ads and Ideals magazine covers, is essentially “Santa” as we recognize him today.

Stores jumped on Santa’s sleigh as early as the 1820s. In 1841, a life-sized Santa figure in a Philadelphia shop window attracted hordes of eager youngsters, who dragged along their toy-buying parents, much to the owner’s delight. Live department store Santas soon followed, as did “Letters to Santa,” those annual wish lists which turned such tiny towns as “Santa Claus, Indiana” into postal Meccas.

For collectors of Christmas memorabilia, there’s a boundless treasure trove of Santa depictions to choose from. There are Santa figurines. Santa bubble lights. Plastic wall Santas. Some Santas even talk: push the button, and a merry voice booms out “Ho, ho, ho! I’m Santa!” (As if introductions were really needed!)

No matter how many Santas you collect, you’ll never run out of options. No matter how much time you have, you’ll always need more. Because no matter how jolly your latest white-bearded, red-suited acquisition, the next one might be even jollier!
Time to start making that list (and checking it twice).

Merry Christmas!

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com

Giving thanks for Betty Crocker

by Donald-Brian Johnson | Oct 30, 2025 | Donalds, Features

November 2025

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

Giving thanks for Betty Crocker

by Donald-Brian Johnson

Thanksgiving dinner at my house?
Why, sure. Say, could you bring the rolls? And the cranberries? And the vegetables and mashed potatoes? Oh, and the turkey and stuffing. And a pumpkin pie would be nice.
Hey, come back here!

Once again, “dinner at DBJ’s” is doomed. The thing is, I can’t cook. Not a lick. I would if I could, but I can’t.

Not that I haven’t tried…but food entering our kitchen always seems to suffer a mysterious fate. It spoils. It melts. Sometimes it even bursts into unexpected flames.

You’ve heard of folks who “can’t boil water?” That’s me. I tried it once and ended up scorching the saucepan.

That’s why I’m always a bit jealous of people who can cook, especially when holidays like Thanksgiving roll around. I drown my sorrows paging through vintage homemaking magazines, and there they are: folks just like me, bustling about, putting up their festive holiday décor, and effortlessly preparing meals of mouthwatering magnificence.

The décor items I can handle. The meals? Well…
Then one day at a rummage sale, I ran across two resources guaranteed to turn the (kitchen) tables in my favor: the 1959 book, “Entertaining With Betty,” and, from 1971, “Betty’s Recipe Card Library.”

The “Betty” in question? Why, Betty Crocker, of course! If Betty couldn’t transform me into Chef Boy-Are-DBJ, then nobody could!

So, I bought them.

In “Entertaining,” Betty gets things off to a cheery start: “Here is a book about hospitality, and how it can be easy and fun.” Sounds encouraging. First, Betty answers a few pesky pre-party-planning inquiries: Question: “Is it all right to invite guests of different political persuasions?” Answer: “It is never amiss to say ‘Joe is working hard on the election – and not for your candidate. But forgive him that, and you’ll enjoy him.’”

Soon though, she gets down to the real meat-and-potatoes of the thing: those recipes! These are divided into numerous helpful categories: “Buffet Dinners”; “House Parties”; “Come By For Dessert and Coffee,” and “Midnight Suppers” (not to be confused with “Stag Parties,” the category that follows it). The recipes seemed straightforward enough, so I decided to give one that Betty lists under “Emergency Meals” a try: “Flaming Chicken.” Ingredients included Bing cherries, Mandarin oranges, butter, and black pepper. Oh, and chicken. Betty’s final instruction: “Brush chicken with 2 tsp. lemon extract, and touch burning match to it.” I did. My “Flaming Chicken” went up in flames.

The complete “Betty Crocker Recipe Card Library.” 648 cards, in a sunshine yellow box. 1971, $40-50. (Image courtesy of the author)

She’s everywhere! “Entertaining With Betty” by Betty Crocker, 1959. A 2017 reissue of 1959 original, $15-20. (Image courtesy of the author)

On to the recipe cards!

Nestled in their very own sturdy hard plastic box (color choices ranged from “Sunshine Yellow” to “Avocado Green”), the 648 index cards are carefully organized by category. Some categories (“American Classics”; “Seasonal Favorites”) are timeless. Others revel in their 1971 underpinnings. “Men’s Favorites,” for instance: “When he yearns for food like mother used to make, bring on your ‘Chicken Fricassee with Dumplings,’ light as a cloud. If he insists the simple things in life are best, wait ‘til he tastes your ‘Savory Duckling On A Spit!’”

One side of each card provides the recipe, plus novel serving suggestions. (For “Tuna Chow Mein Casserole,” “surprise the family with homemade fortune cookies” Yes, that would be a surprise). The reverse of each card however, is the real treat. Ready for their closeups are glamour photos of glistening hams and scrumptious shortcakes, sure to prompt even the most inept cook (me) to start pre-heating that oven. So what if you never actually get around to preparing “Peanutty Pork Chops” or “Cherry Pineapple Bologna”? Just looking at the pictures is enough to whet any appetite. As Betty herself put it, “the right kinds of meals can bring a glow to complexions, sheen to hair, health, and good cheer to your whole family’s outlook.” So can thinking about them.

Now, which shall I try first? Hmmm. The “Cherries Jubilee” sure look tasty. And I think there’s flame involved.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com

You say it’s your birthday?

by Donald-Brian Johnson | Sep 29, 2025 | Donalds, Features

October 2025

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

You say it’s your birthday?

by Donald-Brian Johnson

“Birthdays,” noted one anonymous quipster, “are like uncomfortable under-shorts. They creep up on you.”

Inelegant, yet apt. But look on the bright side: when else do you get a day’s worth (or a week’s worth, or a month’s worth, depending on how effectively you milk it), of effusive good wishes — just for being you? If you’re really lucky, there may even be a party involved. Or presents. Or cake. Or (here’s the winning trifecta) all three!

For early cave-dwellers, a birthday was just another day. With no formal means of denoting the passage of time, one day-and-night cycle blended into another. Then, someone sat up and took notice. The moon cycles were repeating. So were the seasons. Using those benchmarks, a rudimentary “calendar” came about, and notable events (such as birthdays) could be observed on an annual schedule.
Before the dawn of Christianity, friends and family gathered annually to chase away evil spirits, supposedly chomping at the bit to make off with the birthday boy or girl. The onslaught of group merriment evidently sent the forces of darkness packing.

The earliest full-scale birthday celebrations were reserved for royalty, the only ones then flush enough to throw a lavish party. Paper crowns, a time-tested means of recognizing the honoree at any 1950s or ‘60s kiddie party, owe their presence to this early brush with nobility.

As evidenced by birthday traditions from around the globe, celebrations often involve more than just cake and candles:
– Hate those birthday spankings? Consider yourself fortunate. In Colonial days, “one to grow on” was accompanied by “one to live on, one to eat on, one to be happy on, and one to get married on!”
– It could be worse: in Argentina, it’s a pull on the earlobe, one for each year.
– The Irish favor the “birthday bump”: the birthday lad or lassie is held upside down, head bumped (gently, now!) on the floor. One bump for each birthday–and, of course, one more for good luck!
– In Hong Kong, extra-long noodles are a special birthday treat: the longer the noodles, the longer the life.
– Don’t like cake? In Russia, it’s a “birthday pie,” with a greeting incised in the crust.

Here’s a birthday extra: English bakers often hide a small coin inside the birthday cake batter; find it, and good fortune is yours (English cake-eaters, obviously, chew very carefully).

Despite the bunny’s hint, there’s no diamond ring inside this Greetings, Inc. card, circa 1950. (Image courtesy of the author)

Early personalization: turn the dial to select the birthday. Hmmm. Looks like somebody’s big day is Oct. 9. McKenzie Greetings, 1949. (Image courtesy of the author)

The next time you sing “Happy Birthday To You,” thank Mildred and Patti Hill for changing the words. The schoolteacher sisters originally penned their 1893 chart-topper as “Good Morning, Dear Teacher, Good Morning To You.”

Birthday cards, today’s most prevalent means of observing birthdays in the United States, had their start in England during the mid-19th century. While the general tradition of card exchange is rooted in ancient times (Egyptians scraped good wishes on papyrus, and early Chinese sent out New Year’s greetings), it was the refinement of commercial printing in the early 1900s that put what Hallmark enshrined as “caring enough to send the very best” within the economic range of each and every well-wisher.

Whether heartfelt or humorous, elaborate or e-greeting, birthday cards today are big business: more than seven billion are purchased annually in the United States, about 60 percent of all greeting cards sold. Birthday card collectors are particularly drawn to cards from the 1930s through the 1960s. They’re prized for the eye-catching color lithography, novel designs, and innocent sentiments of an earlier day. Most are under $10. Among the display options: binders, individual frames, or a creative wall montage.

Of course, the nicest thing about a birthday card collection is that start-up is a snap. Everyone (unless you’re a hermit, or in the witness protection program) has, at sometime or another, received at least one birthday card. Add another, and a collection is born!
Now, blow out those candles. And may all your birthday wishes come true!

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com