photograph courtesy wonder products co.
A magazine ad shows a well-dressed young cowboy riding the “Deluxe” version of the Wonder Horse.
Dear Vance: In the 1950s, when I was a child, my parents gave me a “Wonder Horse” for my birthday. Is it true these were invented and made in Memphis? — J.D., Memphis.
Dear J.D.: I think every kid in America at some point either had — or wanted — these “wonderful horses.” In fact, looking through the Lauderdale family photo albums, here’s a snapshot of me on Christmas morning, with the Wonder Horse that Santa left me.
But they weren’t invented or made in Memphis. Like many toys, their “origin story” can get complicated, with different people (and their cities) taking credit for what is a rather basic product: a wooden horse, suspended by springs from a frame, which you rode like a buckin’ bronco. Here is what seems to be the basic history. Make of it what you will.
In 1939, a fellow in Pocahontas, Arkansas, named William Baltz wanted a new toy for his 3-year-old son, Billy. As an engineer handy with tools, he decided he could make what he had in mind. Baltz went into his backyard workshop, where he had crafted simpler toys before, and this was his masterpiece. Using plywood from old packing crates and chunks of floor joists, he eventually produced a rather simply designed horse, which he painted bright red, with a black mane and saddle. He built a sturdy frame from 2x4s, suspended the horse from coil springs at each corner, and the “Wonder Horse” was born.
What was so wonderful about it? Well, from personal experience I can tell you it was really fun to ride, if you didn’t get carried away and let those springs buck you off — or send you flying over the horse’s head. The saddle was just a flat board, and the horse had no stirrups or reins — kids just gripped wooden posts. On AboutYou.com, a website that features Arkansas attractions, writer Kenneth Heard notes that the Wonder Horse was “a popular spring-action toy that replicated the riding action of a real horse. Depending on the weight of a child, the toy could either gallop like a thoroughbred making the final turn at Churchill Downs, or plod along like a plow horse turning a muddy field.”
Oh, and the name Wonder Horse? Baltz came up with that — so the stories go — from the nickname for Arkansas: “The Wonder State.”
Now, here’s where it gets confusing. In 1945, Baltz applied for a patent for a “Suspended Horse,” even though the design he submitted bears little resemblance to the wooden product he crafted. But he got his patent and hired helpers to produce and sell these toys for customers, still cranking them out of his little workshop. Early ads proclaimed they would “run for hours on the energy supplied by a few cookies.” They became popular enough that they attracted imitators, and within a few years, Baltz paid lawyers to defend his design and issue “cease and desist” orders against other makers.
So he generally gets credit for the original design, and visitors to Pocahontas can visit the Randolph County Heritage Museum, with a section devoted to the Wonder Horse. You won’t find the original one he handcrafted for his son, though. That one, so I’m told, is still a prized possession of the Baltz family, as it should be.
They produced four different models, according to old advertisements, all with “Magic Spring Action,” and prices ranged from $10.95 to $29.95. The “Original Wonder Horse Regular” was the cheaper wooden version that I got for Christmas. The names of the other models were probably confusing to parents, who had to choose from “The Original Wonder Pony,” “The Original Wonder Mare,” and “The Original Wonder Horse Deluxe.”
At some point, however, Baltz realized that he didn’t have the capabilities to produce, distribute, market, and sell these toys to meet the demand. In 1949, he somehow came into contact with a businessman in Collierville named Ed Koller, who had retired after selling his company, Memphis Bottlers Supply. I’m not sure how they met — or why a bottling supplier decided to become a toy-maker — but Koller came out of retirement and agreed to take over production of the Wonder Horse. Working out of a double-wide Quonset hut erected only a few blocks from the historic Collierville town square, the Wonder Products Company assumed production and sales of the Wonder Horse.
As you can see from the ads, however, Koller improved on the design. The original wooden horse was hard to manufacture (with all that sawing and nailing and painting), tended to crack or splinter, and let’s face it — didn’t look much like the horses kids had seen in the Westerns — or in the fields around this area, for that matter. Wonder Products came up with a fancy, molded plastic version, which was more realistic, more attractive, easier to clean, and more comfortable to ride.
They produced four different models, according to old advertisements, all with “Magic Spring Action,” and prices ranged from $10.95 to $29.95. The “Original Wonder Horse Regular” was the cheaper wooden version that I got for Christmas. The names of the other models were probably confusing to parents, who had to choose from “The Original Wonder Pony,” “The Original Wonder Mare,” and “The Original Wonder Horse Deluxe.” Ads promoted the deluxe model as “the most beautiful hobby horse ever designed, [with] the natural color of the Palomino reproduced in extra tough plastic.” The multi-piece tubular steel frame also made that one easier to assemble, allowing the whole contraption to fit into a smaller box.
What’s also confusing is that each model made in Collierville was called “original,” which is why William Baltz — just trying to make a toy for his kid — tends to fade from the picture when people ask, as you did, J.D., about who invented this product.
Thousands of Wonder Horses galloped out of that plant over the years, but the manufacturing stopped here in 1983. I suppose that after a while, the “spring-action toy” lost its appeal. How could it compete with Barbie, G.I. Joe, Lionel trains, and considerably more high-tech toys? In 1970, Wonder Products was sold to CBS — yes, the television conglomerate. Within a few years the company was sold to Wilson Sporting Goods, and then sold again to Pepsico (yes, the soft-drink people). Ownership finally landed in the hands of a plastics production firm in Bossier City, Louisiana, and they finally put the horses out to pasture. In other words (for you city-slickers), they closed.
Early ads used to brag that the horses were so well-built “they would probably outlast the family car.” That wasn’t just hype. They still turn up — in both the early wooden and later plastic variations — at garage and estate sales, just waiting for a rider.
And the old Wonder Horse plant in Collierville? Accurately named The Quonset, it now serves as a fancy special-events venue. Just inside the entrance, the “Wonder Horse Wall” tells the story of the company, along with vintage photos and advertisements showing kids enjoying the wonderful toy once made there.
Got a question for Vance?
Email: askvance@memphismagazine.com
Mail: Vance Lauderdale, Memphis magazine, P.O. Box 1738, Memphis, TN 38101
Online: memphismagazine.com/ask-vance