THE SLINKY
It was a mistake. A goof-up. An invention that didn't work. A flop; that's what the Slinky was, at least in the beginning.
In 1945, an engineer by the name of Richard James was hard at work in a Philadelphia shipyard. The U.S. Navy had hired him to invent a stabilizing device for its ships. When a ship is plowing through the waves at sea, it pitches and plunges and rocks every which way. And its navigational instruments do, too. Richard's job was to come up with something that would counterbalance the instruments so that they would be level at all times.
Springs. Richard believed that some sort of arrangement of springs would do the trick. He tried all different types and sizes, and put them together in every conceivable way. For weeks he toiled, making dozens of different devices. But none of them worked. In fact, he never did come up with the item the Navy had hired him to invent.
But one day Richard accidentally knocked a large experimental spring off a shelf. It should have just plopped to the floor. Instead, it walked down. Crawled, really. Coil by coil, end over end, it descended onto a stack of books ... then down to a desktop ... down to a chair ... and from there to the floor, where it gathered itself back together.
He tried it again and again. Each time, the same thing happened.
As soon as the workday was over, Richard hurried home. Fascinated with the strange spring, he showed his wife, Betty, what it could do. Together, they tried it out in all sorts of ways and in all sorts of places. It was especially good at walking down stairs.
A toy.
Richard didn't think of it that way. Betty did. She was the one who realized that what her husband had invented was a terrific toy. Betty was also the one who named it.
At first, all sorts of names came to mind, but none seemed quite right. For the next two days she thumbed through a dictionary, keeping a list of some of the best possibilities. Finally, she came upon what she believed was the perfect word to describe the toy: slinky.
Early the next year, Betty and Richard James borrowed $500 to have four hundred Slinkys made. They went from store to store, trying to get the owners to stock them. A few did. But despite Slinky's wonderful ability to walk, it didn't move off the shelves. Not a single one was bought.
Richard and Betty were discouraged but not about to give up. Slinky was a supertoy, they were sure. And it would sell-but people needed to be shown what it could do.
They went to the manager of a large department store named Gimbel's. It took a lot of talking-even a little begging!-but finally they convinced the manager to let them put on a demonstration. Fearing the worst, Richard slipped a dollar to a friend to make sure at least one Slinky would be sold. It turned out, though, that he had no need to worry. Shoppers stared in amazement as the steel coil gracefully walked down a sloped board. Within ninety minutes, the entire stock of four hundred had been sold.
Before long, Richard and Betty were able to start their own company. Within a few years, they were millionaires. As for Slinky, more than 352 million have been sold to date; Slinky's sales are as strong today as ever. In the world of toys, Slinky still walks that walk-and shows no sign of slowing down.
* * *
The early Slinkys were made of blue-black Swedish steel. In the first year of production, this material was replaced with less expensive American metal.
The first Slinkys sold for $1 apiece.
There are about eighty feet of wire in a standard-size Slinky.
During the Vietnam War (early 1960s-1975) the Slinky reverted to its original role. First intended for the military, Slinky the toy ended up on the battlefield. Carried by radiomen in the jungles of Vietnam, Slinkys were tossed over high tree branches as makeshift antennas.
Richard opened a shop in Clifton Heights, Pennsylvania, after developing a machine that could produce a new Slinky every few seconds.
In 1960, Richard became an evangelical missionary in Bolivia.
Slinkys make good scarecrows. After seeds have been planted, try hanging a Slinky on a nearby branch. With the slightest breeze, it'll dance around, and birds will stay away.
Perhaps Slinky's greatest accomplishment was in outer space. Bunches have gone aboard space shuttles. The purpose: to test the effects of zero gravity on springs.
There are now plastic Slinkys, colored ones, those that look like walking rainbows, and others that light up. And then there's Slinky Dog, the classic pull toy; Susie, the Slinky worm; and Loco, a Slinky train.
SEESAW
Some inventions popped up in different parts of the world at different times-but nobody knows for sure where and when they first originated. One of these is the seesaw. The Polynesians, Egyptians, Germans, Greeks, and Chinese all had versions of the seesaw (or teeter-totter, as it is also called).
The Romans were the first, however, to set down any written record of them. Seesaws, it seems, were used in ancient Roman circuses-which had very violent exhibitions. Boxing matches to the death, crucifixions, military battles in which the soldiers actually killed each other-these were all part of the Roman circus events. Almost every act was brutal, and that goes for their seesaw act as well.
Here's how it worked. In the middle of the arena a large seesaw was set up; at either end of the device was a basket big enough to hold a man. Two clowns were then shoved out into the arena. As fast as they could, they ran to the seesaw and hopped into the baskets-just as a lion was set free from a cage. The lion, which hadn't been fed for days, charged the seesaw. When it came toward one of the clowns, he would push off the ground and up into the air. Then the animal would race toward the other clown in the basket on the ground. And that clown would immediately push off and shoot up, out of reach of the ravenous lion. Up and down they would go. The spectators thought this was great fun. For the clowns, however, it wasn't fun at all. Eventually, they began to tire. One would sadly end up as a basket of food for the lion.
The next time you're on a seesaw, you might want to think about how it was once used. And be glad you're just clowning around-and not a clown in the seesaw act at a Roman circus!
* * *
The longest that two people have seesawed is 820 hours. The record was set by Charles Ryan and Philip Duiett of Theodore High School, Theodore, Alabama, February 23 through March 28, 1976.
The original meaning of the word seesaw was "back and forth."
The original meaning of the word clown was "peasant."
Today, there are seesaws that not only go up and down but swivel in a 360-degree circle.
Text copyright © 2000, 2014 by Don L. Wulffson
Illustrations copyright © 2000, 2014 by Laurie Keller