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Originally published in June 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

Some years ago, I took a call at work from a gentleman who wanted to talk for a long time about why the 7:30 television programs didn’t all start at the same time.

His logic was sound. Seven-thirty, he reasoned, happens at the same time for everyone, every evening, so all the shows scheduled to start at 7:30 should begin at the same moment. If they fail to do so, then plainly the people at the networks either don’t have their watches set correctly or they don’t care.

This bothered the gentleman, and he thought I, as a journalist, had a responsibility to do something about it. He wasn’t specific about what he wanted, but his implication was that I should use the power of the press in a campaign calling for television organizations around the nation to synchronize their clocks

What could I do? Not much, unless I felt like beating my head against a wall in a frustrating “prime time at the same time” cause. But the fact is, he just wanted to get something off his chest and chose me to unload on. So I said I’d keep it in mind (I’ve never forgotten, so I kept that promise) and thanked him for calling.

This isn’t the kind of stuff I expect when a phone rings, but it is a call I often bring to mind. Because it’s funny, see, and it helps me laugh about a device I’ve seldom gotten along with.

In college, when a ringing phone was a reflection of popularity, mine was quiet. There it would sit on my dorm-room desk, mutely reminding me I was reading a magazine, watching TV or even occasionally doing homework not because I chose to, but because I didn’t have anything better to do.

I resented my phone for its silence. Sometimes I even grew suspicious of it. Was the ringer not working? Were people – maybe even girls – trying to call and not getting through?

Occasionally I’d pick up the receiver to make sure the dial tone was humming OK (it always was), then I’d leave it off the hook until the louder alert beeping started … just for something to do. After hanging it back up, I’d wonder if I missed a call during the two minutes I’d been playing.

For a while, in early adulthood, I achieved a sort of balance with my telephone. Thanks to family and friends in the state I’d left, and even more to my future wife in my new city, the phone rang enough to let me know I was wanted.

Lately, I look upon the phone as a bully. Not at work – it’d be a bad sign if people didn’t call me there – but at home, where it’s often the conduit for the rudest interruptions.

Answering our home phone is no fun. Despite being on every conceivable “Leave us the flip alone!” registry, we get regular calls from mercenaries trying to trick us into buying something. For the longest time, I’d give such callers an opportunity to pause before politely declining, but courtesy to strangers on the phone is a thing of the past. Now I’m ready to bark “Take me off your flipping list!” and hang up the second I hear a voice I don’t recognize.

Yes, I really do say “flip.” It’s a word I latched onto in the last year to substitute for most of the profanity I tried to swear off when kids became part of our household.

If my wife gets a call, I’ll just about make that person pass a lie detector test before either handing over the phone or taking a message. Heaven only knows what I’ll do when our girls start getting calls.

My relationship with my phone reached its all-time low during the election season, when four or five candidates a day were using it to send us recordings. I got the message and didn’t vote for anyone who intruded on us that way.

Originally published in June 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

Last week, our older girl did something unusual: She woke me in the middle of the night and said she was afraid.

I tried to say, “What are you afraid of, sweetheart?” but I’m sure it came out more like “Whum fraiduv, swettert?” That’s OK, she’s lived with me more than 4 years now and understands all my languages.

“I don’t know,” she told me, which meant she’d had a bad dream and was working on forgetting it.

What she usually needs when this kind of thing happens is for my wife, Lisa, or me to keep her company a few minutes while she goes to the bathroom and back to bed, rub her back a little and tell her everything’s all right, then check on her a couple of times while she gets to sleep. That’s how it worked last week.

She’s my daughter, though, and has my hyperactive imagination, so once in awhile she gets so worked up that returning to sleep isn’t an option for an hour or more. She’ll go to the bathroom every 15 minutes and want to be walked back to bed every time.

I’m shamelessly selfish when it comes to sleep; once I’m under, I don’t want to resurface until I have to. Even so, I’ll spend much of that hour groggily awake, and my wife (who also still handles most of our younger girl’s nighttime wakeups) will be alert the whole time.

Frustration is a natural part of such adventures, but I can hardly get too aggravated. To be honest, our girl is bolder than I was at her age.

There’s not a lot I remember real well about being 4 years old, but I do know I was often wide-eyed when I should have been asleep.

At least one night – there were probably more but I only recall the one – I made my parents miserable with my anxieties. It must have been warm because my bedroom window was open, and the blind was moving in a slight breeze. This in turn caused a soft scuffing sound as the blind rubbed the wall, and I was electric, alternating between hiding under the covers and running out to get my parents.

What was wrong? I don’t remember much except thinking those scuffing noises sounded a lot like the shoes of someone creeping around the room, possibly trying to be quiet as he completed his mission to capture a little boy for his oven.

Scary things simply scared me, and continued to do so until I learned they could also be fun.

Our big girl is facing such fears earlier than I did, and so far she’s doing better with them. Last month, when a carnival set up in the Mesa Mall parking lot, she saw the haunted house ride and wanted to go in. I managed to distract her from it one day, then she spent the whole week discussing it. Lisa and I explained that the point of carnival haunted houses is to scare you. It would have ghosts in it, skeletons, witches and lots of noises. It would be fake, we said, but still scary.

She understood and still wanted to go. Lisa and I decided to respect her wishes and the next weekend I joined our girl for a ride through the haunted house.

It was all we’d told her it would be, beginning with some kind of shrieking banshee thing with flashing red eyes and ending with a roar from the masked ride operator as we came out. After seeing that first creature, our girl held tight to my arm and buried her face in my shirt. She was shaking at the end, truly scared, but she still managed to thank the man operating the ride as we left. On the way to the next attraction, she said “Wow, that was scary,” and started laughing about it.

That night she drifted off easily and slept soundly. But I had bad dreams.

Originally published in May 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

Our older daughter knows the rule because my wife has repeated it over and over and over: Wash your hands when you come in from outside. Do it with soap.

The reasons are endless. Our girl has touched dirt that sheep have walked on. She has handled swings previously gripped by nose-pickers. She has picked up trash. She has petted strange cats.

My wife is crazy, I think, her priorities out of whack. She loses her keys four times a day, but never forgets to make sure our kids have clean hands.

The rule I make for myself is more relaxed: Run my fingers under a cold tap when I get a chance. No big deal if that has to wait until after I make myself a sandwich.

But a visit to a public men’s room makes me rethink that.

Unlike my Lisa, it seems countless mothers (not to mention fathers) fail to teach their children the most basic rules of personal hygiene.

Without fail, if I step into a restroom with three men at the urinals, at least one of them will finish up and head straight out the door without so much as glancing at the sinks. Of course, he’ll touch the door with those unwashed hands on the way out, which inevitably means someone else – maybe someone who did wash his hands – will touch that same spot and something will rub off.

It’s almost like every time you touch a door, you also touch everything everyone who has ever gone through that door has touched. Such realizations inspire me to use my shoe-protected foot to shove open doors whenever possible.

The unwritten rule of the men’s room is that you don’t look directly at other guys at the urinals, particularly if you’re at one yourself. This limits what you can do with your eyes; you can examine the wall, or you can kind of glance around the room.

Once, when I had chosen the “glance around the room” option, I saw an unusual sight in one of the stalls (no unwritten rule about looking at those, as long as there’s a door and it’s closed): A pair of shoes with feet in them, dark socks, and bare legs from there up to where the door cut off my line of sight. There were no pants bunched around the socks.

While washing my hands, I saw those legs stand up in the stall, then heard the sound of something being taken off the coat hanger in there. A pair of pants legs lowered into sight, and the fellow slipped them on, removing his shoes for the time it took to put his legs back into the pants. So, basically, he had chosen to hang up his pants rather than risking wrinkling and soiling them on the bathroom floor – which is more trouble than I’d go to, but I respected the effort.

The fellow stepped out, and I knew right away he was a white-collar, on-his-way-up-in-the-world professional, very neat and crisp. Wearing a tie. But I only actually saw him for about five seconds, because he headed straight from the stall to the exit.

I was flummoxed. Astounded, even. This guy worried about keeping his pants pristine, but didn’t consider his own skin? Man, that’s weird.

Maybe it’s a sort of “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” thing, except that instead of being taken over by outer space pod people, we’re being infiltrated by post-potty soap scorners. Look around any populated room and they’ll be there, taking snacks from the same tray you are, drinking from the same water fountain, shaking your hand when you meet them. But you won’t know who they are unless you end up in the bathroom at the same time.

Girls, don’t forget to wash your hands when you get back to the house.

Originally published in May 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

It came out in summer 1977, a long time ago, but to many of us “Star Wars” has never been far, far away.

C’mon, fellow imaginary Rebels against the Empire, admit it: Your cars are X-wings, your speedometers are targeting computers and the road is a Death Star trench. You’ve probably been tempted to shut your eyes and use the Force to parallel park, and you’ve fired the occasional blaster at middle-finger-happy Stormtrooper pilots who cut you off in their TIE fighters.

My big sister and her husband took my little sister and me – I was 12 – to see the original “Star Wars” the day it opened in Colorado Springs. For me, like millions of others that summer, the two hours in that shopping mall theater were a life-affirming experience. I laughed when Obi-Wan Kenobi mind-controlled the Stormtroopers looking for the droids at Mos Eisley, cheered the first time the Millennium Falcon jumped into hyperspace, cheered even harder when Han Solo shouted “Yee-ha!” as that same Falcon joined the climactic battle, and cheered hardest of all when the Death Star blew apart. Woo hoo!

Then, during the final ceremony scene, I was grateful for the theater’s darkness because it helped me hide the happy tear in my eye.

In the weeks, months and years that followed, “Star Wars” shaped so much of what I did. At least four posters hung in my bedroom. Drawings of the gigantic Imperial Star Destroyer chasing the rebel ship at the beginning of the movie decorated my school notebooks. There’s no telling how many broom-handle light sabers I splintered while battling the Dark Side of the clothesline posts in our back yard.

The sounds of “Star Wars” have stuck with me as much as the images. John Williams’ glorious soundtrack gets my heart racing every time I hear it. I sometimes imagine Obi-Wan’s voice encouraging me to “Use the Force” and “Let go” to summon the TV remote to my hand from across the living room when I’m chairbound while my baby girl sleeps in my lap.

No matter how much I try, I can’t get that remote to jump into my hand the way Luke Skywalker got the light saber to jump into his in “The Empire Strikes Back.”

Most of all, “Star Wars” and the next two movies stuck the threatening hiss of Darth Vader’s mechanical breathing forever in my brain. I can summon the memory of that sound at a second’s notice, just as I can the opening beat of the Who’s “Eminence Front” and the whistling theme to “The Andy Griffith Show.”

So “Star Wars” meant something to me right from the start, before Lucas made his first of many changes to the film by adding the “Episode 4 – A New Hope” to the opening scroll when the movie was re-released to theaters a few years later.

Next week, sci-fi fans of all ages will line up for “Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith.” I probably won’t be among them, not so much because I don’t want to see it (I do, even though “Episode II” was a disappointment), but because I’m simply not curious enough to go. Maybe I’ll try to get there after the crowds have died down, maybe I’ll wait for the DVD.

Whatever happens, I know the movie can’t possibly thrill the 40-year-old me as much as the original thrilled this 12-year-old almost three decades ago. In fact, judging by the previews I’ve seen, I’m likely to find the prequel depressing, and it’s certainly not a movie I can share with my 4-year-old.

But I still hope it has the Force to fuel my imaginary small, one-man fighter a few more years, and allow me to see the blue glow of a hero’s light saber when I pick up a broom.

Originally published in May 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

Maybe they’d known each other since high school, which they might have finished all of five years ago. Maybe they’d only met recently and found a lot in common. Whatever, now they were friends.

These two women, they were pretty and healthy, talking happily as they walked. Both punctuated sentences with gestures they made with one han

When they were girls, these women, they’d been popular. Parties, restaurants, dates – they had options anytime they wanted to go out. But now they were parents and had responsibilities, so they’d come to view the restaurant – with its indoor plastic playground – as a place of leisure.

For less than 10 precious dollars apiece, they could feed themselves and the little ones, then release the kids into the giant Habitrail hamster cage. In that play area, the kids might spend an hour bouncing off each other while their mommies sat and enjoyed some nearly uninterrupted, sympathetic adult company.

I saw these two young women and their two little children through the windshield of my pickup while navigating the restaurant’s drive-through. All I really witnessed was the four of them walking across the parking lot, so I can’t be sure the play area was truly their destination. However, I’ve seen enough parents headed that way to bet it was. I’ve even been there with my own daughter a handful of times.

Seeing the freedom such franchises had come to represent for those two helped me recognize the shackles we can shape for ourselves over time with those same fast-food chains.

Convenience became a problem for me some years back. During the most “convenient” periods of my life, I’d go out of my way to pick up fast food two, three, even four or five times a week. I went so often that I developed strategies to quickly score my bags of food and that 32-ounce tanker of soda (filled with sugar, one of the most addictive white powders). I learned the best time to head to the joints, early enough to beat the high-schoolers rushing to get their own noon-hour fixes but still late enough to legitimately call the meal “lunch.”

I don’t want fast food because I enjoy the restaurant “experience,” and in fact I avoid going inside. I’m a drive-through veteran, with well-considered opinions about the best possible menu arrangement (there should be two, one where you place your order and another about 20 feet farther down the line so you can figure out what you want while you’re waiting) and proper etiquette (people who don’t have the cash out of their pocket and ready to hand it over immediately at the window, thus delaying the line by as much as half a minute, are unspeakably self-absorbed).

It’s a defeat for me if the drive-through line is so long when I arrive that it would actually be faster to park and walk inside to order. In fact, I’m likely to head somewhere else rather than go to those extremes.

Once I’ve scored my meal, I often eat while I travel so I can hide my habit from the world. Sometimes it’s hard to find a free fist to shake at the idiots driving while holding cell phones at their ears.

I don’t know exactly when I started jonesing for an over-the-counter burrito when a quick sandwich from home should be enough, but it’s time for a change. Last year I resolved to limit myself to one soda a day – instead of the three or four I was used to – and dropped about 20 pounds without much noticing. I could stand to lose 30 or 40 more, and might go a good way toward that by cutting out the remaining cola and most of the fast food … which, really, doesn’t even taste all that good.

So why does writing about it make my mouth water?

Originally published in April 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

Even a person of my obvious limitations can grow vain. When I put too much steam in my stride and know the world is lucky to have me, my merciless memory reminds me of the boy I used to be:

When you were probably 13, you thought it would be fun to shake up a bottle of Pepsi. And shake it. And shake it. Soda bottles were made of glass way back then, and for some reason you didn’t know glass isn’t the world’s strongest material.

It was a surprise when that bottle exploded with a big POP, wasn’t it? How close did that shard come to your left eye? Don’t pretend you can’t remember. You get a reminder every time you look in a mirror and see the scar where the cut was stitched an inch above the orb.

And that’s not the stupidest thing you ever did, not even close. Get too cocky and we’ll spend a few moments reliving the months after you turned 16 and got your driver’s license.

All it takes to straighten me out now is to spend some time with my past.

Despite evidence to the contrary, I’ve always believed I’m an intelligent person. Now, though, fatherhood has at long last forced me to reach a reasonably adult level of maturity, and I fear I’m truly only intelligent enough to be ashamed today of things I should have been ashamed of – and learned from – decades ago.

Or perhaps I’ve developed a more introspective aspect to my personality in middle age, one that turns the focus away from myself and sees the two beautiful girls growing up in our house. That part of me knows, just knows, I was never that wonderful and never will be.

Man, the biggest way I could ever fail is to make a mess of being their dad the way I made a mess of being a driver when I was a teenager.

So I now recognize that from time to time I’ve screwed up even though I knew better. Nothing epic, not at the level some of my friends did and I’m grateful. Part of this I credit to luck and part to the girls I knew, who didn’t cooperate with my lame efforts to do some wrongs I really wanted to do.

Happily, I can also recognize I wasn’t a total idiot. For example, I figured out within a year of my 21st birthday that it wasn’t impressive to empty beer cups so fast the liquid ran down my neck into the fabric of my shirt, despite the example of such cinematic classics as “Revenge of the Nerds.”

Plenty of 40-year-olds still haven’t learned that lesson.

My wife is Lisa. I met her when I was 24 and living in southern Arizona, where I ended up after completing a five-year trek to the bachelor’s degree I suspect Colorado State awarded me just so I’d go away.

I’d love to be able to claim I was finished being stupid at that age, but I wasn’t. I was, however, finished being alone because for some reason Lisa forgave the stupidity, which started with our first real date.

On that occasion, I was too busy showing off to pay attention to where I was driving and got my neat new truck stuck in the sand at a Gulf of California beach not once, but twice. Yep, it took getting stuck TWO TIMES to teach me not to travel where there was no road.

Friendly beachgoers helped dig me out both times while I sputtered and tried not to look even more like a jackass. On the way home, Lisa figured out a way to laugh with me about it, instead of at me like I deserved.

Even though I wasn’t a brainless boy anymore, I did plenty of stupid things during the years we were dating, and I’ve done more still in the years since we married.

In fact, that merciless memory is revisiting the last couple of months and reminding me that even now I frequently have occasion to thump my forehead and make apologies.

Maybe the best I can hope is that my kids don’t have to deal with my screw-ups, or that I at least don’t wait too long to recognize where I’ve gone wrong and do something about it.

Originally published in April 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

The sun warms our backs and the scent of blooms is in the air, moving with breezes that also carry the music of songbirds. Blues and greens – my favorites – dominate a spectacular display of colors. The great outdoors is moving into the year’s most glorious time. Oh, spring! When did I come to dread you so?

My eyes water, aggravated by the hayfever sneezes constantly growing in my sinuses. Yellow jackets build nests everywhere they can find an inch of sheltered space.

Neighborhood skunks have awakened from their winter rest, and most nights they perfume the area. This aggravates our dog, who puts up her hackles, growls and stomps around the house. The clacking of her toenails on the floor interests the girls and makes it harder for them to get to sleep.

Unreliable memory tells me spring was a glorious time in my childhood, involving bicycle adventures with friends, picnics and a new Gayla Baby Bat every year. The Baby Bat was my favorite, a black kite with stick-on bloodshot eyes. I could get Baby Bats airborne in the slightest wind and keep them up as long as I had the patience to hold onto the string. I wonder if they’re still available.

My first car – a 1966 Mustang I never should have been allowed to touch, much less drive – comes to mind when I recall teenage springtime experiences. Some may not believe this, but I was in great shape and had a generally cheerful disposition back then, possibly because I had that neat car. But I also behaved like a dork and so that’s all I want to say about the teenage me.

Spring remained fun in early adulthood. It meant swimming, hibachis, late-night walks or rides … and, starting in my mid-20s, it meant sharing these things with Lisa, who became my wife. Can’t beat that.

But springtime changed for me. Now when the weather warms, I start thinking about water hoses, mowers, weather-loosened shingles, light-bulb-singed bug corpses piling up under lamps. Worst of all is the weeds, weeds, WEEDS, growing in our lawn and driveway, under our decks, hugging up against the house, climbing fences.

What changed? Has one of the joys of my life dissipated because I’m growing older and nastier?

That’s possible, but I’d guess it also has something to do with being a homeowner instead of a renter. These days we have to handle our own problems instead of complaining to a landlord, and it’s no fun cleaning mouse turds out of a shed when I’d rather be playing softball.

Luckily, our daughters are working on teaching me how to enjoy spring again, and they’re doing so in the most ingenious way: by enjoying it themselves.

Donning shoes on a Saturday afternoon is a source of excitement to our girls, because they know it means we’re heading outdoors. So far, they don’t much mind whatever Lisa or I want to do once we get out of the house. Helping Mommy work in the garden, throwing a ball for the dog, taking a walk, checking out the fruit buds – it’s all good with them.

It furrowed my brow when I found out our older girl has adopted a bushy weed in our front yard, and has even watered it. But you can be sure I’m going to let that thing grow until it breaks out in foot-long thorns.

A trip to the swing set – that big piece of metal and plastic that’s so flipping hard to mow around – is always a source of fun. The girls get busy, chasing each other, having a ball. They’re willing to let me sit in a lawn chair and watch if that’s all I’m up for, but so much the better if I join in.

“Push me, Daddy!” our 4-year-old calls from her swing. Her little sister, 1, in the baby swing right next to her, echoes the call as best she can (a squeal that sounds something like “Pish, Dah-dee!”). Their faces flush pink and they smile in the spring sunlight. Smile at me.

Pull the weeds? Ah, heck, let ’em grow. We’ve got better things to do.

Originally published in March 2005, The Daily Sentinel, Grand Junction, Colo.

Things drop at our house.

Open a cabinet, a plastic 32-ounce Taco Bell cup tumbles out, deflects off the counter and skitters around the kitchen floor.

Pull out a dresser drawer, a T-shirt unfurls and flops onto the carpet.

Reach for the Ibuprofen in our cabinet, the Tums bottle that strikes my brow worsens my headache.

Canned peas dive like lemmings. Neckties slither off hangers. Frozen chicken breasts thump the linoleum. Model kit boxes. Play Dough. Paintbrushes. Screwdrivers. Tennis balls. Videotapes. Books. CDs. Pencils. They all topple defiantly from their perches.

Is our place sitting at an angle? Are mice or gremlins at work?

Sometimes I fear I’ve grown so fat I’m creating my own gravitational field, one strong enough to pull items toward me until Earth’s slightly greater mass takes hold of them.

If no one’s around to see me do it, I blame faceless entities and say words I shouldn’t. As often as not, the item that dropped gets kicked, stomped or otherwise mistreated by my feet. For a few seconds, I’m convinced the object has consciousness and wants to aggravate me, so I take my revenge in a way I never could with a person.

In other words, I behave like a child. No, wait, that’s not true, because when such things happen to my 4-year-old, she says “Whoa” or “Oopsie,” picks up the item and moves on. It’s more accurate to say I behave like a jerk.

A part of me would love to call my little girls the source of chaos in our home, but they’re not. In fact, they’re pretty predictable. They’re just not doing things exactly the way I want them to.

The baby books tell me infants will start sleeping through the night after a few months, and so every night for the last year I’ve gone to bed certain that our toddler will “sleep like a baby.” There’s gotta be some reason for the cliché, right? Except every night, our baby girl wakes up at least twice and demands attention.

Every night she does this, and every night I go to bed presuming she won’t.

Our 4-year-old is an aspiring artist. She works with paints, construction paper, glitter, coins, ribbon … no one can guess where her artistic vision will guide her next, but it’s a sure thing it will take her somewhere, and it will involve scissors and glue.

Every day she asks for the tools she needs to create her works, and every day the rejected bits of her efforts scatter on the kitchen table, her desk and other surfaces. She picks up what she can, but it spreads almost as fast as the hair our dog sheds around the house.

The blunt fact is, I am the source of chaos in our home. Being totally unwilling to deal with the predictable uproar that comes with having two small children, I’ve thrown basic organization right out the window.

If I’m the one to empty the dishwasher or straighten up a room, instead of placing things where they belong, I shove them all over creation. My only rule is to make sure plastic ends up on top of glass.

Laundry? Sure, I’m willing to do it. I’m even willing to fold it. But precarious piles atop the dressers are as close as I’ll get to putting it back into the drawers where it belongs.

Obviously, then, I shouldn’t be surprised when these things head south at the first opportunity, and if I’m going to kick anything, it ought to be me.

Originally published Nov. 15, 2007.

What you see below is what I was able to recover of a Moebius Models blog entry I lost when the Clubhouse moved to a new server in early October 2007. The loss of that entry isn’t the worst inconvenience the Clubhouse experienced, and at least I held onto this much. The Q&A with Frank Winspur, the most important part, is intact, and for that I’m thankful.

Please keep in mind that Moebius has continued to make announcements about its future since I wrote this entry; check the Moebius Web site for information.

Resin the Barbarian: Why did you name your company Moebius?

Frank: The first two choices were turned down at the trademark office. I am a fan of the artist Moebius, and when I did a little more research and found out it is actually a mathematical term, I thought it would be a cool name. Its reference in mathematics is very interesting, I encourage everyone to check it out online at one of the many sites devoted to it.

RtB: As I understand it, you’re about to issue your third and fourth editions of the Dr. Jekyll as Mr. Hyde kit. The first was the long-box version; the second was a glow-in-the-dark Wonderfest long-box; the third will be a glow version released the week of Chiller; and the fourth will be a square-box glow version. Is it safe to say, then, that the doctor has been a success?

Frank: The doctor has been a great seller. We hadn’t planned on four releases of it, but the limited WF kit got quite a bit of e-mail sent to us. The Chiller edition will be visually different in the way of box art, but still the Frightening Lightning edition. Slight color change. More copies this time, 480, hopefully everyone that wants one will get one!

RtB: Is it true that the teeth were trimmed off the Jekyll mold master by someone in China? And, is there any chance the figure’s teeth will be restored in a future issue of the kit?

Frank: That’s not quite the whole story. We started out with a ’72 version to tool off of. There was basically nothing left for teeth on the kit we got, either head. It was a sealed kit, so I know no one tampered with it. I can only think that some of the detail wore off through all its pressings earlier. We have had much e-mail on this, and it will be fixed. The only problem is, how to get heads back out to customers that want them. I will be speaking with China about having this done in a few weeks, and I will keep everyone updated.

RtB: How soon will Captain Action be available?

Frank: I wish I had a good answer on that. It has fallen behind due to the factory in China. A few small problems have come up. New regulations in China due to the recalls this year have effected almost everything, whether it needs testing or not. The other problem is that it is such a limited kit. No one is saying this to me, but I am guessing they are putting it off due to the fact that it is an extremely small job as to what they are used to.

RtB: Let me make sure I have this straight: Moebius has issued the Jekyll as Hyde repop and is about to issue the Captain Action. The kits that are coming include the Seaview, Voyager and the Prehistoric Scenes Jungle Swamp. Did I overlook anything?

Frank: For now, no. We have put the swamp on hold, as there really had been no interest in it. We are hoping next year once the brand grows, we can put it out. October we will have the first half of 2008 to announce at iHobby in Chicago.

RtB: For the repop kits, can you tell me where you acquired the mold masters? Were these, say, eBay purchases?

Frank: For Jekyll and Voyager, they were picked up on eBay. From there China went about prototyping them to fix original flaws.

RtB: Can you tell me the order in which these kits will be available, and/or specifically when?

Frank: Voyager, then the rest is a toss up. I am hoping for Captain Action and glow Jekyll for October. Seaview will most likely be November from the way it looks. Very hard to say until the prototype is finished.

RtB: Some sellers are offering preorders on, and taking money for, Moebius kits that probably won’t be available until well into 2008. How do you feel about that?

Frank: Honestly, not much I can do. I can guarantee the kits we have listed will all be released. We haven’t gotten that far ahead to predict 2008 on anything. This is why were not releasing any new info on 2008 releases at this point. Everyone needs some time to digest.

I guess it’s the same with any manufacturer. Retailers sell the kits and take preorders, so they have a view of what they will need. With the advent of Paypal, there doesn’t seem to be a way that someone can allocate funds to a product when it comes in.

All I can tell anyone from my experience in retail is use a credit card for online purchases. You can always go back and charge it back to the seller. Protect yourself first and foremost. There will be enough kits to go around, don’t worry about missing out. Unless it is limited.

RtB: Of your kits, do I correctly understand that the Seaview will be the first original creation by Moebius? I’ve seen at least one seller label it as an Aurora repop.

Frank: Yes, our first original. Not sure why someone would refer to it as a repop, definitely not that!

RtB: Do you have any more original creations in the works? If so, what?

Frank: Everything for 2008 at this time is an original kit. I cannot announce any of it at this time due to licensing. October at iHobby will be the announcement date.

We currently have one kit in the sculpting phase by someone many of your readers may know, Shawn Nagle. No hints yet, though. We have two other sculptors lined up for 2008 kits that I can hopefully announce in October.

RtB: I’m not going to get into a bunch of wish-list material because I know you get it all the time. However, If I don’t ask specifically about Gigantic Frankenstein, people will ask me why. I’m sure you’ve been asked about it yourself a thousand times. Any chance you’ll plug in the electrodes on this piece of classic plastic?

Frank: That has by far been the most requested piece so far. The one thing that everyone doesn’t realize is that it needs to be licensed through Universal. Check an old box and you’ll see a “copyright Universal Studios” line on it. They are a little more interested in checking Frankenstein licensing than some of the others they may own.

RtB: Can you tell me about any further repops in the works?

Frank: We actually got into it to make original kits. In the future we may do some repops as limiteds like Captain Action, for sale through our club/newsletter. We are hoping to get that going next year, just no time right now.

RtB: What’s on your own wish list? What subject would you most like to tackle? And, do you build kits yourself?

Frank: Myself, the ‘60s Batmobile would be No. 1. The 2001 kits have to be next. But as everyone knows, those are very tough licenses. Batmobile is impossible.

I built myself for many years. My eyes have been getting weak, and my hands are horrible now. I had to have one hand/wrist rebuilt this year, and it has put a huge damper on any building for some time. Hopefully again, as I love plastic!

RtB: I’ve heard a GK producer who sells Aurora recasts tried to prevent Moebius from repopping the Jekyll as Hyde kit, basically claiming that he owned the rights to the kit. Can you tell me anything about that?

Frank: Very interesting question. Anyone can claim they own anything, and more specifically put in a copyright for it. As my attorneys put it, “Anyone that has a correct address, and a check that doesn’t bounce, can copyright anything.”

None of what I was drug through is public knowledge, but I believe if anyone wants to look at the trademark site, this “GK producer” has filed opposition to our trademark for the series using the name Dr. Jekyll as Mr Hyde . This is public knowledge. I am not sure why someone would be so spiteful, as this has cost plenty to defend at this point.

If anyone checks copyrights on this particular kit, it is owned by Universal, and the OLD Aurora Plastics that was bought by Nabisco. Currently, it is expired and no one has come forth to register it that has proof of ownership. A “derivative” copyright, so everyone knows, claims you are making changes to the original, with the original owners’ permission. The changes must be “substantial” to have a valid copyright. Anyone owning a “derivative” owns the changes, not the original!

RtB: Has the possible emergence of a new Aurora, (or “A”) run by the Giamarrino family and planning to reissue many Aurora originals, affected your plans with Moebius? If so, how?

Frank: No effect that I know of. Honestly, we went into it looking at the large percentage being new kits. Polar Lights did nearly everything of value as far as sales are concerned. If I wanted to build a company that I knew would be selling repops, and probably only 500 at a time, I would be crazy. It’s just too costly, you couldn’t make money. Unless someone else had the tools and would do it for you with little cost. We’re trying to keep it reasonable, and interesting. We are not, nor would we ever, work with another company as some people have suggested.

RtB: You and Scott McKillop of Monarch Models seem to have a cordial relationship. Can you tell me about your first contacts with one another?

Frank: I spoke with Scott originally back in December. Most of what Scott is looking at is public domain properties. We were both a little worried we might have some overlapping interest. Jekyll was on Monarch’s list, Nosferatu was on Moebius’ list. We exchange some info so we don’t do something really silly. It’s expensive and too much work to have two of the same kit come out at the same time!

RtB: What are the high points, so far, of creating and operating Moebius Models? What’s the smartest thing you’ve done?

Frank: As crazy as it may sound, the high point was getting our first licensing deal done. It is so much more work than most would think. The studios just aren’t throwing their doors open to anyone with a check. It is a lot of work to get to the signing.

Smartest thing, not public knowledge quite yet, but that would be getting Dave Metzner on board. He officially starts Oct. 1 barring no complications. He is truly one of the most knowledgeable guys out there as far as getting this stuff done.

RtB: What are the low points and the biggest missteps?

Frank: The low point is just the waiting. Much of this we have no control over. You can’t pick up the phone and yell at someone and get it done quicker. Most of it is an art, and to get it right, there can be no rushing.

That is one thing if any I can stress to fans, do you want it fast, or do you want it right? We are working on getting out the best quality we can, and there can be delays. Like in the case of the Seaview. There were just a lot of small things we thought could be improved on. And we’re doing it. It has slowed the release down, but everyone will be happier with it. We learned a lesson with Jekyll’s teeth, and we are much more careful.

RtB: What have you learned that will affect what you do in the future?

Frank: Hard to say, we are still so young with this. Just get out the best product we can. At the most reasonable price that we can.

RtB: Anything you’d like to add?

Frank: Not much to add, other than a thanks to all of you that have written, bought Jekyll, and placed preorders with our dealers/distributors. Always open for comments, but please remember anything we receive for new kit suggestions are either the property of the copyright holder when we receive, or become the property of Moebius Models on receipt.

We love the suggestions, but remember we’re basically builders/fans/collectors that have been in the business for a very long time. Most things we receive are already on our list, it is a big one!

Originally published July 1, 2007.

Thought I’d begin with an image I was anxious to see, and I’ll bet I’m not the only one.

As 2006 drew to an end, the future of the plastic figure model kit looked grim. Polar Lights was out of business and the established model companies didn’t seem to have any interest in figure kits. Then, in the middle of a thread at the Clubhouse’s “Styrene Dreams” forum, Jeff Yagher advised members to keep an eye out for Monarch Models.

I decided not to wait for news, but asked Jeff if he could put me in touch with the guy behind the company. He electronically introduced me to Scott McKillop, who was happy to talk about what he was up to. I wrote a news story that ran in my “Resin the Barbarian” blog during the holiday season, then I sat back and awaited updates from Scott.

A few weeks later, Frank Winspur of Doll & Hobby Shop exploded back onto the kit scene with Moebius Models, which he was launching with a repop of the long-missed Aurora Dr. Jekyll as Mr. Hyde, and following that up with a lot more. I was excited, but also concerned about what this apparent competition might mean. Scott, though, was just as happy as anyone.

Monarch’s first kit, Nosferatu, should be on work benches in a few weeks. Two more – the Moon Suit and the Ghost of Castel-Maré – have been announced and should be available this fall or winter. “We are also working on a cool little project that will hopefully come out in the early new year,” Scott said in an e-mail. “Real cool and real cheap. Plastic of course.”

Seems like a good time to get an update about where he’s heading with his new company.

Resin the Barbarian: What’s your current expectation for when the first 2,000 Nosferatu kits will reach North America?

Scott: The Nossy kit should be in North America by the end of July. Gary is working on the instruction sheet and the second test shot has some tiny part fit errors being corrected as we speak.

RtB: Do you have a sense of how well the kit will sell? Does the potential for distribution look promising? I know a number of online dealers are offering presales.

Scott: The pre-order sales of Nossy are excellent. The last big distributor bought the last 404 kits. The first run of 2000 has been sold out (by Stevens Int., Hobbytyme, and Squadron). If a person hasn’t already preordered one, they had better hope their local hobby shop is on the phone to the above distributors.

RtB: Are you going to have more of the Nosferatu kits made?

Scott: Another run of Nossys would be based on market demand. I want the kit to remain highly collectible by keeping the production numbers small. At the same time I want everyone who wants one, to be able to find one without having to resort to hijacked prices on eBay. Tricky balance.

Once I open up the Monarch Club, the members will have a big say in what happens.

RtB: How was WonderFest?

Scott: WonderFest was awesome and I had to chance to put faces to bulletin board names. Everyone was very nice to meet and it was good for the business.

RtB: What other shows do you plan to attend?

Scott: ihobby expo for 2007. Back to Wonderfest in ’08 and maybe the tabletop expo in Las Vegas (but it is the weekend following WonderFest and that’s a lot of travelling).

RtB: What age group do you expect Monarch’s products to appeal to? I’m guessing middle-aged men but I’d like to see kids such as those featured in your ads get excited about them.

Scott: I have no doubt that my target audience is younger middle-age men such as myself, 40-55, but it is certainly my dream to have the younger kids discover the hobby. This is why Gary’s artwork for the boxes is so important. It was the artwork that hooked me in the early 1970s. We shall see.

RtB: Speaking of ads: Your first teaser poster and the comic-panel advertisement in the current issues of Amazing Figure Modeler and Kitbuilders feature a blond boy (named Jack, I believe?), as well as a friend and family members. Is that boy based on someone in particular?

Scott: The “boy” is Jack Q. Public, Anytown, USA. Based loosely on myself, on all modelers. We started into this hobby as kids and that’s the fun and the memories brought back when modeling monster or sci-fi kits.

RtB: What’s the story behind the Ghost of Castel-Maré? What will he look like, and when will he be available? Will he be 1/8 scale?

Scott: That was an early conversation regarding one of Gary’s ideas. The Ghost. I wasn’t too sure of his original concept and Gary mentioned a play on the Castel-Maré character, and I was sold. The scale will match the original prisoner. We are working to meet the end of 2007 deadline on him. His appearance is so scary that Jeff Yagher has to sculpt it blindfolded, working only during daylight hours, curtains up, and his wife in the house within earshot.

RtB: Are the Ghost and the Forgotten Prisoner supposed to be the same character?

Scott: Yes, the Ghost is the ghost of the Prisoner of Castel-Maré.

I asked Jeff to use the prisoner’s skull and bones to guide him on reconstructing the ghost’s facial features. “CSI” meets Monarch.

RtB: Is the Moon Suit the sci-fi kit you mentioned when you did the first Q&A with me last year? If so, who’s going to sculpt that one, and when will it be available?

Scott: Yes, the Moon Suit is the first sci-fi kit that I “teased” about last year. Again we are aiming for the 2007 deadline. Because of the machined parts, Jeff Y. and Tony Cipriano, had to turn it down. It will be a Made in China solution. Likely 1/10 scale. Presented in the wide long box format. While technically not a fictional item, it never made it into space, yet spawned the toy suit for Major Matt Mason. It kinda acts as a crossover kit for space history buffs, sci-i guys, and MMM fans (I hope).

RtB: What other original kits are in the works from Monarch? Anything that will require a license? Any vehicles or other non-figure kits?

Scott: The other original kits in the works are top secret. But new sculpts will be the rule at Monarch. Reissues would be the exception. All things are pending licensing agreements. Kit No. 4 marks the beginning of licensed properties. Of this kit, I can tell you that it is a licensed property of a para-military character. Original. Vehicles: That’s a tough one because Frank (of Moebius) has that nicely sewn up Non-figure?!?!?! Todd are you crazy or just tired?

RtB: What’s the potential for glow-in-the-dark parts?

Scott: Glow-in-the-dark, parts? Hmmm, well I did grow up in the ‘70s and glow kits were the only thing that I knew, so … we’ll see. Looks like Frank received a hero’s homecoming for his glow Jekyll, that’s a good sign. I got five of his glow Jekylls at the show.

RtB: What do you think about the resin replacement part market that has sprung up? Do you plan to offer any resin parts in your styrene kits?

Scott: I love the idea of the resin replacement parts market. I won’t offer resin parts for my kits, but I would be quite happy if someone out there did make a go of it.

RtB: Since we first spoke, some other “players” in the kit field have come to light, particularly Moebius Models and supposedly a new Aurora Plastics Corp. Considering that both of these companies plan to repop a number of Aurora kits, has your thinking on reviving any of the old kits changed? Do you still want to produce any of the Aurora classics?

Scott: Definitely the appearance of Frank’s company has helped everyone, including me. I can’t do everything and neither can Frank. But with both companies maybe modelers will have the best selection of new and repopped kits. Frank’s a great guy and we have a very good gentleman’s agreement of not trying to compete for the sake of competing. His standards ensure that I keep my standards high, and vice versa. How can you lose? I had planned on repopping Dr J., but now I can spend those tooling dollars on the Ghost. I would like to repop certain Aurora kits, but again this will depend on Frank’s releases and licensing agreements. Believe me, there is certainly no shortage of great new ideas out there.

RtB: If the answer to that is “Yes,” which kits do you want to bring back?

Scott: Top secret.

RtB: If I don’t ask specifically about Big Frankie, someone will ask me why. So, what do you think? Any interest in putting that Monster back on the table?

Scott: Gigantic Frankenstein is always on the table but at this time I need to learn how big my market is and how profitable figure kits can be. I would never say “no”, but the fact that Polar Lights wanted to do it, and chose not to, despite their strong history, is reason to be careful. But honestly, it always remains on the table. Frank and I have talked about it, because I know it is on his wish list too. Time and money, of course.

RtB: Any chance Monarch would do a “missing pieces” kit? Kind of like the old Customizing kits but with parts that seem always missing on a lot of vintage original kits. Examples: Badge for U.S. Marshal, shotgun for Jesse James, sword blade for Spartacus, scabbard for Zorro, lantern for Blackbeard, sword blade for Captain Kidd, chain links for Big Frankie, palm tree pieces for King Kong, axe for Viking, web section for Spider-Man.

Scott: Interesting idea. Not one that I would have ever thought of doing. I don’t really know how serious the potential of seeing that “kit” come to light is, at the moment. But again, all ideas are put in the bag for future consideration.

RtB: What have been the high points so far in your effort to start up Monarch?

Scott: The biggest high point is the mind-boggling power of the Internet. I have not had to set foot outside of my house to accomplish 98 percent of what has been done. I have never met Jeff Y. or Gary (prior to WonderFest) and I have never been to China (although it would speed up development if I did go). This whole Nosferatu project has been surprisingly easy to accomplish. And with the experience gained, the Ghost and the Moon Suit should be faster to market.

RtB: What have been the low points?

Scott: Believe it or not, the low points have been so minor that it isn’t worth mentioning. And now that the test shot is in my hands and Frank’s Dr. Jekyll is in the stores, my motivation has steamrolled any unforeseen obstacles.

RtB: Are you glad you’ve taken the steps you have, and do you plan to keep going?

Scott:I am very glad with what has been developed. We have let the $ flow pretty easily with Nossy. The next two kits will be developed on a rigorous budget to follow the actual costs versus revenue. This will help determine how profitable a figure model kit company can be. I have no plans to stop until it is quite apparent that I am flushing money down the toilet repeatedly. But like I said before, I am willing to pony up and lose a year’s salary before I throw in the towel. Based on what I have seen to date, the future looks very bright for a small niche company such as Monarch. And Moebius, too.

What follows is Scott’s reaction to a mishmash of “wish list” material members of various forums provided. I asked, “Do any of these strike you as something Monarch might produce?” Here’s what he said:

The Golem, Dr Caligari, London after Midnight, Metropolis: possibly but not in the next year or two.

Edison Frankenstein: I’d have to look that one up. But it has an interesting ring to it.

The Phantom of the Opera: No to an Aurora repop. New sculpt maybe. It comes with the whole Universal monsters licensing package.

Aurora Blackbeard and Capt. Kidd: I like the sound of those repops.

MoM Creature: I like the sound of that one too.

Pirates of the Caribbean: I wonder what Disney’s licensing fee would be?

Generic pirates: possibly what with the popularity of the new movies but who would buy and build it? We shall see how are Ghost of Castel-Maré kit sells first.

Aurora’s unproduced Godzilla: I like it.

Curse of the Werewolf: Maybe, but currently lower priority.

Mole people: Maybe but more likely.

Morlocks: I like it. I really liked the movie.

Glenn Strange Frankie: I would have to look into that one.

The Fly: Ah the Fly, the pretty pretty Fly, the one that started it all for Monarch … My dream come true. I would love to do the Fly.

The 4-D man: You’ll have to educate me. Who is he? (I had to look it up myself.)

Ymir: Another dream kit. Why has no one done this before? Is there a licensing issue?

The Thing: James Arness?

Cheech and Chong: Hmmmm I am not really sure how well that would sell.

Coppola Dracula: Tough one, I am not too confident in its sales.

Dinosaurs: Only if it is designed by Steve Ross in the PS style.

Langella Drac: I don’t know what that version is, worth checking it out.

Aurora prototypes: Maybe, depends on the specific kit.

Silver Age DC heroes: Tough one because I only knew the Bronze age, and I always thought the “pre Bronze” age art was too stiff. Plus the licensing.

Super heroes: I would love to do them based on the ease of licensing. I am a Bronze age guy. Maybe once Monarch has earned a good reputation it will be easier.

Phantom Cruiser: I would have to look that one up.

Space Ghost: Same thing as above.

Lone Ranger: Seems that the Comics Scenes version is almost free on eBay. It doesn’t command a very big price. And with a reproduction box from David Vaughn, you’re all set.

Zorro: Disney. Licensing.

Classic sci-fi vehicles: Oh there is something I have in mind, there is so much to be exhausted from the public domain. In fact I do not think a person can exhaust the public domain. That’s the beauty of it.

This Island Earth Mutant: He comes included in the Universal Monster Licensing group. We will see. But I like it.

The Mole Man: Same as above and Gary has already done the box art, so we will see.

Gort (or Gnut): 20th Century Fox. Sticky people at Fox, haven’t seen the Fly yet in plastic either. I like it, though.

Original Mary Shelley Frankenstein: I do like the public domain. But would a literary interpretation sell like our silver screen favorite? Hmmm, between Jeff’s sculpting skills and Gary’s box art, it just might be a seller.

HG Wells: We would like to think of it, but Frank is likely to have something to show for it, before we get around to it.

Jules Verne: Same as above.

Hammer Films: Hmmm, I would have to look into that, would they sell as well as the Universal characters?

Rondo Hatton: I would have to look into that one. I don’t know the character.

Werewolf of London: Jeff Y. thinks that one is a good idea too. It might be public domain.

Frankie meets Wolfie: Hmmm. Well it would be covered under the Universal Classic Monsters Licensing package. It is possible.

Aurora UNCLE: I like the concept. Maybe the new Aurora guys will do it first.

Wacky Racers Cars: I will do any kit that has fangs, claws, and a few bones and spiders scattered on the base. After that, I get out of my league. Besides, I thought car kits and firecrackers were meant for each other.

Jonny Quest: Haven’t given him too much thought because cartoon characters always look like toys when they are made into models.

More things to come: There are many more things that we have planned that come from the wonderful world of public domain (P.D). Jeff has a pet project idea for one Public Domain kit. I have already come up with a name for the series of sci-fi P.D. kits, that I would like to do.

We are working on something in the parody exemption line thanks to a friend at New Line.

In general, the goal at Monarch is to offer original sculpts concentrating on figure kits (Monster, Sci Fi, Hero, Fantasy). There are some Aurora repops on our list, but not many, and that may shrink, depending on what Frank, and the new Aurora people produce.

There is a healthy 50:50 mix of public domain and licensed characters on our wish list. The wish list will change based on sales and licensing ease. If a public domain character commands as much retail return as a licensed character, then why pay for all the licensing hassle? We will follow the market, but at the same time try to steer the market in the direction of our products. Jeff Yagher, Gary Makatura, and I are big-time Aurora monster model fans, and we are listening to the GK world for ideas and to the BBs for ideas. There is no shortage of ideas, but there is a shortage of time and a limit on money. But hopefully between Frank’s work at Moebius and my work here at Monarch, all modelers will have plenty of reason to celebrate over the next several years.