When I was 11 the Omnibot 2000 was at the top of my holiday list (catalog description). It came with a remote control with a built-in microphone. It had a digital alarm clock and a cassette player that could play normal audio tapes, but you could also use it to record and play back programming commands. So you could program the robot to wheel itself up to Fido and freak him out by playing your voice remotely. Also important was the included beverage tray which would have been great for being served Tang at ankle-height. All of this nerdy awesomeness came at a hefty price. Sadly, costing $500 in 1985 put it solidly in the same category of attainability as an Apache attack helicopter, which I also wanted.

“But, mom, I’ll just die if I don’t the Millennium Falcon this year.”
OK, that might have been overdoing it. I don’t really remember the tactics I used when I was five years old to persuade my parents to buy me toys, but I’m sure I took whatever sage advice my sister had, and integrated it into my appeals. It worked, and one year it became mine. This thing got more playtime than any other Star Wars toy. Every figure got at least one turn in the hidden cargo compartment.

Star Wars Millennium Falcon Spaceship. Use with mini-figures (not incl.). Battle alert sound, landing gear folds up. Cockpit canopy opens. Entrance ramp folds down. Radar dish swivels 360 degrees. Rear deck area lifts off to expose laser gun with seat that swivels 360 degrees and “clicks.” Game table. Secret floor panel. Remote force ball for Light Saber practice. 17x6x23 in. Plastic. Ages 5 yrs and up.
ORDER INFO: Unassembled. Uses 2 “C” batteries, order pkg. below.
79C59472C–Shipping weight 3 lbs. 12 oz…$24.77

Source: 1979 Sears Wish Book

Note: $25 in 1979 is like $1.4 million in 2007.

This is the first post in a new series, called “Toy Chest”. In this series, we’ll write about the toys we loved as children, get nostalgic, and hope it brings back similar memories of our friends and families. Now, on to the toys! First up… Presto Magix.

Presto Magix was a piece of paper with a setting drawn on it like this:

And it came with a plastic sheet that contained rub-off transfers like this:

Here’s how it worked:

When you were done, you’d have a scene populated with transferred characters in various poses. It was pretty much a one-shot deal. So it was fun for fifteen minutes, then you’d hang it on your wall and ignore it until you got another Presto Magix. They were disposable, but they were also very inexpensive.

I loved those things for the ephemeral fun that they provided, but they had another meaning to me. They introduced a valuable concept: payola! That’s right, bribery. See, my mom would take my sister to ballet, and I would go along for the ride. If I behaved well, I would be rewarded with a Presto Magix from the local Zayre’s department store. Of course, I was the paragon of good behavior, so I got lots of Presto Magix.