Little Men.
Most kids called them “toy soldiers”…
to me, they were always “little men”.
And as a little boy, “little men” were a big part of my life.
I had hundreds of them…and they mesmerized me for hours.
Wherever I went…
my mom would fill up a plastic baggie with a few handfuls of my guys…
and I would be happily occupied.
Many an afternoon was spent accompanying my Mom
as she dress-shopped at Alexander’s on Fordham Road.
While she shopped, I would be positioned under a dress rack
contentedly setting up my little men scenarios.
A rather ironic note:
Years later, at the age of 20, I was by some miracle legally declared a Conscientious Objector.
Thus my obsession with my armies does remain rather paradoxical.
In my defense, my fascination with these tiny figures
was less about them being warrior fighters…
and more about the wide array of dramatic personae they offered.
Rather than “playing war”…
I prefer to remember it as …
“a truly impressive spectacle of diversity”.
Yeah, OK…let’s go with that.
These little men, made of hard rubber or plastic,
came in all colors, all sizes and from a wide range of “backgrounds:
There were Cowboys and Indians, somehow on the same stage as Medieval Knights .
Swashbuckling Pirates co-existed with otherworldly Spacemen.
Foreign Legionnaires were joined in packs with exotic Arabs.
Civil War soldiers lined up alongside WW II G.I.s
There were over-sized 12-inch figures of Zorro and Roy Rogers.
Even TV’s Captain Gallant and his son Cuffy joined the crew.
And what was always curious to me…
was that every single “fighting man”,
no matter what time period he may have come from,
all somehow, struck the same exact poses?!?!
I can still see them in my mind…
Those marching stiffly, with weapons propped on their shoulders.
Marksmen, standing upright or lying flat out prone, rifles aimed, ready to fire!
Some came running wildly towards the enemy,
knees raised, holding knives or bayonets or swords or clenched fist.
Others, poised to throw their spears or shoot their bows and arrows.
Some crouching down with guns or grenades or walkie-talkies.
Still others, stretching one arm out in front of them,
the other arm cocked behind ready to hurl some destructive object.
And some menacingly balancing a bazooka or cannon on their shoulders.
My favorite?
The “leaders” or captains or heroes, turning behind them to wave the others on.
Then there were the horsemen from all time periods,
set in a permanent bow-legged riding position.
(Must’ve been hard for the poor guys to walk around that way).
And there were “scouts”, peering through binoculars or telescopes.
And the proud and the brave, waving their flags.
Some personnel would formally salute their officer.
(Or, in my mind, they were acknowledging ME!)
NOTE: As a kid, I always had a problem keeping things out of my mouth.
Often I would unconsciously chew on the rubber arm of a soldier…
leaving him as a grotesque victim of the war.
Besides the “men”…
There were horses and dogs and some random camels.
There were wagons and tanks and jeeps.
And for my most special holiday/birthday gifts…
I was sometimes bestowed...
the “Complete Sets” !!
Exotic, intricate structures like Castles and Forts and Pirate ships.
So being in possession of these “worlds” and their eclectic inhabitants,
what exactly did I do with them?
It was all about the “Set Up”.
The field of battle most often took place in “The Attic”…
located on the top floor of my well-aged home in The Bronx.
The Attic was a kind of poor man’s playroom.
A bizarre, dream-like space with slanted ceilings formed by the A-frame roof.
For my cousins, friends and I, it was the go-to spot to eagerly rush for playtime.
The set up usually was a two-man job,
me engaging with one of my friends.
We’d begin by gathering as many of my little men and accessories
that we could find.
Then we’d do our version of the NFL “draft”…
taking turns picking our warriors of choice until they were all taken.
Finally, we’d strategically arrange our troops on opposite sides of the room,
easily spending an hour or so tactically setting our “positioning” just right.
There were men hanging from a window shade cord,
hidden inside couch creases, serving as their bunkers,
balanced, leaning flat against walls,
lining up across pillows, ready to attack,
riding atop cavalry horses,
jammed into a jeep,
peering out from the inside of a sneaker.
After an inordinate amount of time and much meticulous effort,
when the cinema-worthy scene was set….
we’d take pause, sit back and take satisfaction in our accomplishments.
And then…
IT WAS TIME FOR BATTLE!
Our weapon of choice?
Rubber bands.
We each had a bagful of bands ready to be “fired”.
The Mission:
Knock down each of the enemy combatants until none were left standing.
What started out with our skillful, precise marksmanship…
soon disintegrated into...
throwing forts and castles at each other's armies!
What took hours to create…
was all over in about 10 minutes.
Only to live to fight another day.
If any of you played with toy soldiers (or “little men”)…
would love to hear about it.
