Last week when I opened the door to go into F. A. O. Schwarz, I was nearly struck down by a runaway Yellow Tornado Racer. As the thing tore out for the gutter, it was followed by a saleslady who later explained that she had been demonstrating the racer (it is propelled by compressed air) and that it had gotten out of hand, as toys sometimes do.

Word had been received that Schwarz was selling an authentic medieval fortress for only $450; as it turned out, the fortress is only for sale at the New York store. The Boston branch, however, does have a six-room doll house which goes for $220 unfurnished, and $375 furnished. It is not a very impressive doll house and would be too small for most dolls, but it does have real electric lights (extra bulbs in the closets) and a pretty interesting meal on the table. But for all the fanciness, it was gratifying to note that not one of the painted clocks told the same time.

Italian Dolly

Near the doll house were found its prospective inhabitants. Dolls appear to fall into two categories: those with clothes on--or the impracticals, and those without garments, or the practical ones. In the former group were seen such numbers as the Little Genius, the Princess Margaret Rose, and one which was gotten up like Sophie Tucker but was labelled Italian Dolly. The undressed dolls are more active this year than ever before. One boasts of a "real soft nose and almost human ears." This one promised also to blow bubbles when given a pipe. They all can drink water this year (though none are built to retain it), and the manufacturers have provided "changes" for those unimaginative mothers who demand that their little ones behave just like them.

One of the salesladies asked if I wouldn't like to see something new in dump trucks. "This one over here is a product of the Bing Crosby Research Foundation," she said as she pulled a heavy red truck out of the tinkering hands of a small boy, mumbling to him as she did so a perfunctory "Can I help you?" The truck operated by electricity and had a complete gear panel. On the front of the 18-inch-long vehicle was an elevator such as is used to life and carry heavy crates or cotton bales. The truck, which ran on house current, could only travel in a circle of about four feet.

Atomic Energy Kits

In the way of games were such things as Atomic Energy Kits (complete with radioactive screen and uranium ore), Fotokits (with negatives of George Washington, Roy Rogers, Stan Musical, and Rita Hayworth), ping-pong firing Sub-machine Guns ("harmless to bulbs and bric-a-brac"), and a Milton Berle puppet kit ("containing also an actual television script.") There was also a miniature candy-vending machine (subway-type) which required pennies to operate.

One thing was obviously missing from Sehwarz, and that was Santa Claus. The search led on to Filene's, where one was found seated on a throne, doling out green lollypops to frightened little children, some of whom had to be dragged up to him bodily. Santa had a new assistant this year, a young lady who called herself Miss Holly and who was dressed like a like a Filene doll called Holly Dolly, only she was big and blonde and the dolls small and brunette. I asked Miss Holly who Santa Claus really was and she said that he was a student at BC. "We have a 325-pound Santa in the window who everybody thinks is padded, but he isn't. He's a retired psychology professor. . . ."

Sweetest Job

Jordan Marsh's Santa Claus was reached only by following a labyrinth of railings designed to keep a large crowd in an orderly line. Luckily, there was almost no line, and when Santa had taken care of three serious-faced youngsters. I asked him how he liked his job. "Why, it's the sweetest job I've ever had. Just sitting here all day. Sure, and it'd suit me foine if it lasted clear 'til June."

At this point, a floorwalker approached Santa and called out, "Wouldn't Santa like to feed his reindeer now?" "Aye," said Santa, and he departed, waving farewells to the puzzled children.