The First Kid on Your Block

Marketing in the Silver Age of Comics

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The notion of producing merchandise for the younger market was nothing profound in the Fabulous Fifties. But the tactic of advertising geared to attract the person who was going to be using the product rather than the one who might provide the funds for said shiny object was recent.

Everyone remembers the Christmas of 1940. That’s the year Ralphie in A Christmas Story (1983) lusted after “the official Red Ryder, carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle, with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time.” The movie based on the story by Jean Shepherd has been on a televised 24-hour Christmas Eve/Day loop for a few years now.

“You’ll put your eye out.”

That’s a great example of advertising aimed to reach the parent via the targeted audience. 

After World War II, as Boomers learned to read and the comic book eras changed from Golden to Silver Ages, the art and stories of the medium became more sophisticated. Superman stopped nabbing bank robbers, and began fighting strange beings from other planets. Batman’s villains upped their weird. And advertisers zeroed in on the true consumers, the ones who soaked up the comics.

A major problem was the amount of disposable income possessed by the literary enthusiasts. The average blue jean pocket or snap purse might contain a few coins, a marble, a jack, perhaps a tooth. Their affluence would come later.

With this in mind, advertising to readers of Fifties comics diverged. Some targeted their minimally funded consumers with super cheap products. A philatelist’s album to hold rare stamps could be had for a quarter. For the real players, playhouse sized frontier cabins (“Big enough for 2-3 kids!”) sold for a mere dollar. Housing issues solved!

“Aww, man! Who cut the cheese?”

Others aimed for the entrepreneurs, bored with lemonade sales but not quite ready for paper routes. This group could apply for various items to sell door to door, as long as they signed solemn promises to pay for the original items. They might reap a profit of “Five dollars a week in your spare time.”

Here are a few of those memorable pages which originally appeared in DC comics from 1954-1956. The irony of it all is that clipping a coupon from a comic book immediately devalued its collectibility. For instance, Detective Comics #244 featuring--nothing special--“The 100 Batarangs of Batman,” from 1957 sold at auction in 2016 for $2,500.

In 59 years, this issue went from costing a dime, to an auction price of $2,500.

Surely, the true young investor should have skipped the Nutty Putty and the Whoopee Cushions and just saved the comic in a plastic bag. Today some of them would bring between a few hundred upwards of $10,000! 

If the coupon has been clipped, the comic’s value is...”Still 10¢!”

Kid A looks a little too overjoyed with a wrist watch, Kid C is not trustworthy, especially pointing that thing at me. B Girl Photographer wins! Also, how many boxes do you have to sell to get a pool table?

Frightening! And a 10-day free trial offered a perfect way to dispose of the weapon!

What fun! Selling boxes of Christmas cards in July for a quarter a pop. Or going through Dad’s change trying to find an 1804 silver dollar. It could happen. Much more likely than trying to sell these corny Mottoes.

Like the Spotify music stars of today who sometimes get checks for 78-cents, movie stars of the 50s relied on side hustles to maintain their pools.

150 Civil War soldiers, no telling how many Yankees or Johnny Rebs.

Like the Tik-Tok celebrities today, you too can unbox free clothes. Fewer than 1 million followers need not apply.

Stamp collecting for those who got caught looking for old coins.

The one that got me. The Joy Buzzer was a wind up buzzer you palmed in your palmed then sought handshakes . The ventriloquist aid was a piece of cheap tin about the size of a goldfish cracker. I wonder how many got swallowed. Of all, the “Whoopee Cushion” was the best. A strong rubber bladder that you blew up and placed under a couch cushion. When the victim sat down it sounded like the greatest, wettest, loudest cow fart ever. Such fun!

Quick price check. Superman is $6.98, the bride dress is $4.98, and the Hobo outfit is $3.98. And it’s more expensive than the skeleton.

Charles Atlas began selling his body building methods a couple of decades before. Still, to bulk up for a dime investment seems like it might work!

Dr. James Thompson Wilson of Tyrone, PA, invented his White Cloverine Salve in 1895, along with a unique method of marketing. The first company as well as the first premium house to advertise in comic books. Imagine the mail person bringing the pony! That’s a lot of Salve!

“The past is a blast.”