Read Online THE STORY OF MONOPOLY, SlLLY PUTTY, BINGO, TWISTER, FRISSBEE, SCRABBLE, ETCETERA by Marvin Kaye - Free Book Online
Authors: Marvin Kaye
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descriptions of tens of thousands of others in my file cabinet.”
Sackson began his love affair with games as a youngster during the Depression. Living a kind of gypsy existence as his father traveled from state to state seeking work, the lonely boy developed an early interest in solitaire games. “I remember in first grade, the teacher used to hand us the pages of a magazine, and we were supposed to draw circles around the words that we recognized,” he says. “I was far more interested in joining up the circles in such a way that they could form a chain from one side of the page to the other.”
Another early game influence eventually evolved into one of Sackson’s finest games, Acquire (made by 3M Co. in the firm’s Bookshelf Games line). A game of investment and corporate empire building, Acquire requires an absolute minimum of luck and a high degree of skill. Players try to build chains of hotels which, when merged, provide dividends toward their final financial postures. Sackson got the idea for it from the old game of Lotto.
“I bought Lotto when I was a kid, and found it rather dull. But I began to be fascinated by the numbers on the check sheet and started to form patterns with them. Later on, this notion suggested working up a war game with pieces growing as empires that engaged in battle when they touched one another on the board. Still later, I changed my mind and saw it as a business game, with the pieces representing hotel chains.”
Sackson’s excellent book, A Gamut of Games, published by Random House, has been succeeded by a regular column in Strategy and Tactics, a periodical devoted to war games. (His feature is the only one in the magazine not dedicated exclusively to military games.)
Sackson has found American game firms extremely fair and honest in their dealings with professional freelance inventors. “They may drive a hard bargain, but I have always found them extremely trustworthy. They have integrity,” he says.
“The trouble with this business is that so much depends on luck. You can send off the prototype of a new game to a company and have it bomb out. Had it been there a month sooner, or if it were submitted a month later, it might have been bought. The odds are not good, either. Parker may come out with half a dozen brand-new titles in a year, but they cull them from literally thousands of submissions.”
There is one ultimate advantage the professional has over the amateur: experience. Sackson says: “The more you do, the easier it becomes. Ten years ago, my first ideas were unplayable and I’d have to go through many steps of refinement. Nowadays, I’m able to run through all of the major alternatives in my head, so that a first draft of a new game idea of mine is always playable. From there on in, it’s a matter of fine tuning.”
Sackson’s approach to freelancing is cool and professional in tone. He is ever the thinker, a slightly bemused scholar whose love for his hobby has led him to study and analyze it exhaustively.
In great contrast to Sackson’s approach is the intense, positively Lugosian “mad genius” of Marvin Glass, a man who has no use for the term “play value” and refuses to study children to see what kinds of toys they prefer.
One might wonder how far a freelance designer can go with such unconventional attitudes. In Marvin Glass’s case, they were no hindrance at all. He is the most successful freelance toy inventor in America. The only by-lined designer in the industry, Glass heads a Chicago studio whose products account for a turnover of $125 to $150 million per year— approximately 5 percent of all domestic retail toy sales. At Milton Bradley, for instance, about $17 million in sales was tallied in 1963. But by 1968, volume had risen to $45 million, of which about 25 percent was brought in by Marvin Glass products. At Schaper, the Glass toys helped sales increase by 30 percent, while at Ideal, Glass products resulted in a degree of growth
Sackson began his love affair with games as a youngster during the Depression. Living a kind of gypsy existence as his father traveled from state to state seeking work, the lonely boy developed an early interest in solitaire games. “I remember in first grade, the teacher used to hand us the pages of a magazine, and we were supposed to draw circles around the words that we recognized,” he says. “I was far more interested in joining up the circles in such a way that they could form a chain from one side of the page to the other.”
Another early game influence eventually evolved into one of Sackson’s finest games, Acquire (made by 3M Co. in the firm’s Bookshelf Games line). A game of investment and corporate empire building, Acquire requires an absolute minimum of luck and a high degree of skill. Players try to build chains of hotels which, when merged, provide dividends toward their final financial postures. Sackson got the idea for it from the old game of Lotto.
“I bought Lotto when I was a kid, and found it rather dull. But I began to be fascinated by the numbers on the check sheet and started to form patterns with them. Later on, this notion suggested working up a war game with pieces growing as empires that engaged in battle when they touched one another on the board. Still later, I changed my mind and saw it as a business game, with the pieces representing hotel chains.”
Sackson’s excellent book, A Gamut of Games, published by Random House, has been succeeded by a regular column in Strategy and Tactics, a periodical devoted to war games. (His feature is the only one in the magazine not dedicated exclusively to military games.)
Sackson has found American game firms extremely fair and honest in their dealings with professional freelance inventors. “They may drive a hard bargain, but I have always found them extremely trustworthy. They have integrity,” he says.
“The trouble with this business is that so much depends on luck. You can send off the prototype of a new game to a company and have it bomb out. Had it been there a month sooner, or if it were submitted a month later, it might have been bought. The odds are not good, either. Parker may come out with half a dozen brand-new titles in a year, but they cull them from literally thousands of submissions.”
There is one ultimate advantage the professional has over the amateur: experience. Sackson says: “The more you do, the easier it becomes. Ten years ago, my first ideas were unplayable and I’d have to go through many steps of refinement. Nowadays, I’m able to run through all of the major alternatives in my head, so that a first draft of a new game idea of mine is always playable. From there on in, it’s a matter of fine tuning.”
Sackson’s approach to freelancing is cool and professional in tone. He is ever the thinker, a slightly bemused scholar whose love for his hobby has led him to study and analyze it exhaustively.
In great contrast to Sackson’s approach is the intense, positively Lugosian “mad genius” of Marvin Glass, a man who has no use for the term “play value” and refuses to study children to see what kinds of toys they prefer.
One might wonder how far a freelance designer can go with such unconventional attitudes. In Marvin Glass’s case, they were no hindrance at all. He is the most successful freelance toy inventor in America. The only by-lined designer in the industry, Glass heads a Chicago studio whose products account for a turnover of $125 to $150 million per year— approximately 5 percent of all domestic retail toy sales. At Milton Bradley, for instance, about $17 million in sales was tallied in 1963. But by 1968, volume had risen to $45 million, of which about 25 percent was brought in by Marvin Glass products. At Schaper, the Glass toys helped sales increase by 30 percent, while at Ideal, Glass products resulted in a degree of growth
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