Seeing is believing

Oh, it would have been talked about for years. I like to think it would have become part of the lore of this industry, passed from father to son and so forth into the far reaches of time. For you see, I was fired up and aching for a good, old-fashioned rant—the kind in which both fire and brimstone are called upon to do whatever it is that they do in combination that makes them fearsome. My soap box was polished and placed for maximum visibility. I had donned the long, black coat of the preacher.

It was the eve of last month's American International Fall Toy Show and, frankly, I had come to doubt you. There were various events leading up to it—product recalls that had followed actual deaths, a few emails from watchdog groups tracking working conditions at Chinese factories—but what sent me over the edge was the allegedly “free” brand placement one toy maker gave some really not-so-healthy-for-kids products it had added to the relaunched version of one of the industry's truly classic products, with seemingly no conception that the move would just add fuel to the fire of those who are already quick to see toy companies as manipulators, not magic makers.

My thoughts were dark, friends. I wondered whether you were a community worth mingling with; whether I could tell people that I daily walked among you. But then something unexpected happened: I went to the Fall Toy Show and the darkness melted away.

There was a lot of uncertainty going into the show among many in the industry. As you can imagine, we talk to a good amount of people and the show, particularly in its semi-public format in the Javits Center, was never far from the lips of those manufacturers we were in contact with when doing an interview about something that had nothing to do at all with the show. We went through our own uncertainty, too. Are press really not allowed into the show? Do trade magazines have some deeper relationship to the show's exhibitors than consumer press? Is it enough to make us part of “the family,” and therefore trusted enough to enter the show?

As the show opened—and it became quickly apparent that this show was just like any other, except with more walls and black curtains—you could feel the tension fade and people begin to open up. There were two things that seemed to change the mood: one was that people were pleased to spend quality time with “quality buyers,” while the second was something less tangible but more powerful. This show was the first gathering of the American toy industry in one place since people started moving out of their showrooms in the International Toy Center. It felt like a family reunion. It was infectious, and it was electric. And by the time the credits rolled on the documentary about the ITC at the Spin Master/Hasbro party on Sunday night, it was undeniable.

As for me, it was a pleasure interacting with people whose energy was focused on toys and the goal of making children smile. It's an energy that doesn't always translate over the telephone—sometimes you have to see it in person to truly believe it. It made me believe again that most people in the toy business have made this industry their home out of a desire to bring joy to kids, not just to profit off of them. And it was touching to see that no matter where the toy business takes place—in a showroom, in a convention center, or in a tent in Madison Square Park—it's not the location that's “home,” it's the people within it that make it so.