Tim Walsh might have put fun into the hands of more than 4 million people, but virtually none of them would recognize the toy inventor if they passed him on the street. Instead, he is among...
SARASOTA, Fla. — Tim Walsh might have put fun into the hands of more than 4 million people, but virtually none of them would recognize the toy inventor if they passed him on the street.
Instead, he is among the unknown pioneers of play, one of those unsung heroes of Christmas mornings and rainy days who endured a litany of rejections before turning their brainstorms into big bucks for toy companies.
Then they fade into anonymity.
Walsh, who was born on Christmas Day 1964 — has chronicled those stories in his book, “The Playmakers,” which tells the behind-the-scenes toy stories of some of the world’s most beloved playthings, from Flexible Flyers to Beanie Babies.
Most Read Stories
- Prosecutor reviewing sex-abuse allegations against ‘Deadliest Catch’ star Sig Hansen
- The results are in: Here's where the new Dick's Drive-In will be
- Knife-wielding man in custody after downtown standoff VIEW
- Amazon tries to bag a big chunk of grocery market with Seattle pickup locations WATCH
- Seattle remains nation’s hottest home market, with biggest price growth in 3 years
In the 1990s, Walsh collaborated with two college friends to invent the game TriBond, which sold 3 million copies in the 1990s, and followed it up with his own invention, Blurt!, which sold more than 1 million copies.
For Walsh, it has been a happier ending than some of the inventors who have gone before him, leading him to become a full-time game designer and author who is eager to share his fascination with all things fun.
“It’s not just about the things they had. It’s the people they played with,” Walsh said, explaining the emotional connection he finds adults have with toys. “If they had a Radio Flyer wagon, it was the people who were pulling it along that they remember.”
For Walsh, the fifth in a family of six children growing up in Voorhees, N.J., about 15 miles outside of Philadelphia, the journey into the toy industry began when he was studying biology at Colgate University and thinking about becoming a doctor.
The Trivial Pursuit craze was sweeping college campuses, and Walsh and his friends thought they could come up with a game of their own.
TriBond, created with Dave Yearick and Ed Muccini, is a game in which readers move ahead by answering a question based on three clues. The game was rejected by every major toy company because executives were convinced people wouldn’t buy a game that required them to think.
The men persisted in marketing the game, selling it themselves out of the trunks of their cars and at small game shops.
Eventually, they teamed up with game manufacturer Patch Products in Beloit, Wis., and TriBond began selling big. Walsh followed up with Blurt!, a game in which players move ahead by shouting out a word based on clues.
Walsh later was hired by Patch Products, becoming vice president of marketing before he resigned in 2001. In February, Mattel announced it was buying distribution rights to Blurt! and TriBond. Walsh still retains royalties on both games.
Now living in an upscale subdivision in Sarasota, Walsh has published a tribute to toy inventors who blazed trails before him.
Like his games, the book was rejected by every major publisher so Walsh published it himself earlier this year, financing some of it through the sale of vintage toys from his collection.
Walsh found many of the founders of favorite playthings to have lived anonymously, at times making hardly any money off their creations that later became cultural icons.
Among his favorite stories is of Eleanor Abbott, who in 1948 was an adult patient in a polio ward in a San Diego hospital and wanted to create something to cheer up the children. She crafted “Candy Land,” which in the past 55 years has become so popular that Walsh said it can be found in 60 percent of households with a 5-year-old.
There’s also the story of the patriarch of Mr. Potato Head, George Lerner, who came up with the idea to attach plastic features to real potatoes. But in a post-World War II era where memories of food rationing were still fresh, toy companies thought the idea of playing with food would cause a public backlash. Lerner ended up selling his idea for $5,000.
Walsh said some inventors are happy to remain in the shadow of their famous invention.
“They don’t really care to be famous,” he said. “They are not complaining about anonymity.”