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This past week, I ordered something new for one of my collections – the PEZ Presidents volumes VI and VII. Okay, maybe their use of roman numerals here is a bit grandiose. And yes, these are the very same plastic candy dispensers that you cherished as a kid.
Favourites like Tweety Bird, Fred Flintstone, Marge Simpson and Yosemite Sam come to mind. I own volumes 1-5, and have been looking forward to these new releases, especially knowing that they include U.S. presidents from the 20th century.
I completely understand the appeal of dispensers made of popular comic heroes, cartoon characters and movie icons, but when it comes to immortalizing actual people in plastic, particularly presidents of the United States, that is when I perk up. Creating likenesses of famous people is not new to this company – Elvis Presley, Prince William and Kate Middleton have graced confectionery-store shelves for years.
Nor is it the first time Pez has paid homage to U.S. historical figures. Can’t you just imagine how thrilled Daniel Boone, Paul Revere and Betsy Ross would be to see cast-resin toy versions of themselves? Talk about bringing history to life.
I bought the new volumes through a U.S. retailer because it was going to cost an arm and a leg to buy them here in Canada. It somehow seems fitting that I should pay U.S. dollars for U.S. presidents.
To save on the shipping fees, I had them sent to good friends in New York City and informed them that they should expect 10 presidents, carefully packaged, to arrive on their doorstep. I forewarned them they would be visited by a healthy mix of Republicans and Democrats, but trusted the former leaders would behave themselves while in their care.
On one level, the idea of toy replicas of U.S. presidents seems so wrong, so disrespectful. Yet, on another, it seems perfectly fitting. What better way to engage in discourse with your country’s history than to share sugar-coated candies ejected from the head, of say, Grover Cleveland or James A. Garfield?
By and large, the presidents’ likenesses are respectable. Lyndon B. Johnson and Franklin D. Roosevelt appear quite stately. So does Abraham Lincoln, even though he is missing his distinctive top hat.
Tara Hardy for the Globe and Mail
Some, however, have issues. Warren G. Harding, the 29th president, could easily be mistaken for journalist Harry Reasoner, and John F. Kennedy looks more like a smarmy 1950s matinée idol.
I wonder if the shortest of the presidents, James Madison, at 5 foot 4, would feel vindicated now that he is the same height as the others? Calvin Coolidge, who some say was the stiffest of all the presidents, is now in good company. The Republicans sport red bodies, the Democrats blue. Uniting them all is their capacity to hold and spew forth a dozen brick-shaped, tasteless treats.
I made sure to let my New York friends know that I would not burden them with hosting volume 8 of the series when issued. This collection of five presidents will include Richard M. Nixon, and no one should have to put up with the shenanigans of a house guest like him. Having said that, he would most likely be pleased to see that he was made in China – all of that negotiating with the People’s Republic back in the 1970s has really paid off.
In attempting to recreate a famous person, whether it is a figure in a wax museum, a bobblehead or a Halloween mask, there is always the risk that it will result in something creepy. Deep down, this is what I find so alluring – the expression is wrong, the eyes are too close together, the proportions are off. There’s something oddly satisfying about owning a candy dispenser that did not quite turn out right.
Prince William is a perfect example. Out of the packaging and separated from Kate, you would swear it was tennis player John McEnroe. Thor, the hammer-wielding superhero, looks identical to a long-haired Harrison Ford in a winged helmet.
When the time comes to bring my acquisitions into Canada, I imagine the conversation with the border agent going something like this:
“Anything to declare today, sir?”
“Why, yes. In the trunk I have 10 former U.S. presidents inside a box, carefully wrapped in bubble wrap,” I will say with a straight face.
“Very well, drive safely.”
Bob Hambly lives in Toronto.