These Collectors Go Where Action Is

By NORA ZAMICHOW

Dec. 20, 1998 12 AM PT

TIMES STAFF WRITER

At 4 a.m. Jimmy Duval awoke, picked up three friends and drove 40 minutes to huddle outside a Toys R Us in Covina.

The morning was cold and dark and 75 people had better spots in line. Duval, a 26-year-old actor who’s sometimes told he looks like Keanu Reeves, had grave feelings about the battle ahead.

Wordlessly, his friend Lee Newson slipped away and scouted the line, scanning the fellows by the door who had arrived at 2 a.m.

Newson reported grim news: The men at the very front were known scalpers, people who buy stacks of sought-after toys to resell. Duval prayed they craved Hot Wheels or “Star Trek” or Beanie Babies.

Most of those who shivered and waited were Christmas shoppers. Ambitious parents hoped they’d score a Furby, a squat, talking creature that’s this season’s hottest item.

For Duval, the predawn excursion had nothing to do with Santa Claus. On the Internet, word was out: New “Star Wars” action figures were going on the shelves that day. He had to shop.

Duval and his friends are action-figure collectors, men so obsessed with plastic figurines and pieces that they cruise store aisles several times a week--sometimes daily--and think nothing of hitting eight stores by the time most people sit down for a second cup of coffee.

These are the people who agonize over whether a manufacturer’s errant dab of paint makes Luke Skywalker look cross-eyed. Who panic when a nephew visits, hastening to hide their toys. Who won’t remove their most prized figures from the package and cringe at the sight of a crushed box corner. Who know when shipments arrive and shelves are stocked. Who memorize serial numbers to prod a clerk to unpack the right carton.

Each score makes the enthusiast crave another. Occasionally, the quest for a particular figure can so blind a collector that children are ignored, birthdays forgotten and marriages teeter.

Jimmy Duval’s girlfriend used to feel rejected when he’d crawl out of bed in the middle of the night, heading for a toy store. She accused him of loving his 1,000-piece “Star Wars” collection more than her.

Absolutely not, he said. He proved it: He gave her his original Princess Leia figure.

“If you accept me,” he reasoned, “you’ll accept my toys.”

Duval recounted those exchanges as he stood in line at 5:45 a.m., 15 minutes before Toys R Us was to open. Newson, 22, listened sympathetically.

“No relationship is ever definite,” Newson cautioned, “but the toys will always be there.”

Across the nation, about 14% of Americans methodically collect something--matchbooks or teapots or airplane sickness bags. In recent years, action figures have become particularly hot: In 1997, sales grew 27% to $1.4 billion, according to the Toy Manufacturers of America. Adult collectors account for 40% of those purchases, said Pam Danzinger of Unity Marketing, which tracks the industry.

The Christmas season is the one time of year when collectors, average shoppers and scalpers collide, and encounters in some toy store aisles have been known to get ugly. For a while last summer, hoping to deter scalpers and collectors, Target began punching small holes in toy boxes. The practice made the package unappealing to collectors, who want mint-condition boxes, and dashed resale prices.

“We wish there was some way to make sure kids get what they need and toy collectors get what they need,” said Denise Workcuff, spokeswoman for Target, the nation’s fourth-largest toy retailer. “We’ve struggled with that, most retailers have. We’re hoping people will just be cordial in stores; all we can do is hope.”

Nowhere is the competition as fierce for action figures as in Los Angeles, which tends to get action figures about a week ahead of the nation because of distribution schedules, experts say. Here, collectors know when boats from Asia dock and are even known to take jobs as store clerks to get first crack at fresh merchandise.

“That bumper sticker ‘He who dies with the most toys wins’ has been taken to heart,” said Tom Tumbusch Sr., publisher of Action Figure Digest. “Some adult collectors are nuts.”

Sacrificing for the Cause

Kevin LaNeave, who works as a tape archivist, figures he spends half his $20,000 income building his “Star Wars” action figure collection, which he began 10 years ago at age 14. It means he eats TV dinners at his North Hollywood apartment and drives a decrepit 1985 station wagon with 200,000 miles on it. He at times pushes beyond the limits of even what he considers reasonable. As a teenager he cajoled his father into driving him 11 hours to inspect a 1978 “Star Wars” Death Star play set from England before plunking down $700 for it. He estimates his 2,000-piece collection is worth more than $25,000. Not that he’d ever sell.

James DeSimone, 42, has searched for various G.I. Joes for the past 18 years. He has written three books on Joe and founded the international fan club in honor of the action figure. At its peak, his collection--believed to be the largest in the world--contained more than 700 Joes from the ‘60s, 800 figures manufactured in the following two decades and countless pieces of equipment and accessories. DeSimone turned down an offer of $250,000 for it.

His fixation ended three years ago. DeSimone was rushing off to a toy store when his then-4-year-old son Jonathan asked for help with a Lionel train.

“I just realized I was going out to look for something I didn’t really want and I was not spending time with my son,” DeSimone said. “I had gotten sucked into the excitement of having to have everything.”

He sold portions of his collection, saving some and displaying it in the two-story addition to his Burbank home that he’d built specifically to house his Joes. Now he sees his old habits ruefully in the behavior of collectors like Neil LaSala of Temple City.

Like many collectors, LaSala, a 36-year-old physical education teacher at Belmont High School in Los Angeles, stores 70% of his collection without ever opening the packages. He carefully deposits the factory-sealed Joes into airtight plastic boxes with silicon packets. Often LaSala purchases two of the same Joes: One remains unopened; the other is for play.

His vintage figures, from 1964 to 1970, are in display cases. His modern ones, however, sometimes take a beating.

Once LaSala, a Marine Corps reservist, fashioned a mini-parachute, about as large as three handkerchiefs, for a 12-inch uniformed Joe named “Grunt.”

During a training exercise, he parachuted from a Black Hawk helicopter. He pulled out Grunt, hidden in his shirt, and threw him to the sky. Grunt’s descent was so perfect that LaSala’s drop zone commander mistook the doll from a distance for another reserve jumper.

“He didn’t think it was too funny,” said LaSala.

After Grunt’s first jump, a buddy of LaSala’s wanted a turn with the action figure. Unfortunately, Grunt’s parachute didn’t open on the second jump and he plummeted like a rock, bouncing 20 feet when he hit the ground. To LaSala’s astonishment, the damage was minor--the fabric of Grunt’s combat fatigues tore. Just another reason LaSala likes Joes.

“G.I. Joe then and today stood for a Righteous Entity, somebody doing the right thing for his world. That, to me, is appealing,” LaSala said. “It’s nice to have a constant, and G.I. Joe is constant, inanimate as he is.”

A Domain of Males

The most likely action-figure collector is, like LaSala, a man between 18 and 44, according to Unity Marketing.

“Action figures constitute a representation of male power that most men don’t have--the power to control the world around them,” said Chandra Mukerji, a professor of communications at UC San Diego. “Most men work in a bureaucracy or factory and don’t have any power at all. They don’t shape the world.”

For some, like Ryan Brookhart, another of Jimmy Duval’s friends who drove with him to Covina that morning, collecting action figures is a way of correcting something gone awry in childhood.

When Brookhart was 11, his little sister invited friends over and announced, “Free ‘Star Wars’ toys!” Brookhart’s supply was wiped out. Today, Brookhart, 30, not only has an extensive “Star Wars” collection, he’s launched a magazine catering to action figure collectors.

“I just can’t see spending $100 on a bottle of wine, something I am literally going to flush down the toilet,” said Brookhart, editor-in-chief of Go Figure!. “An action figure is pop art; it’s movable sculpture.”

Duval understood Brookhart’s obsession. The first “Star Wars” film came out in 1977, the year before Duval’s parents divorced. As a child, he’d seize an action figure and fly to a distant planet. The film, he believed, laid out a blueprint for his life, showing the struggle of good against evil. It made him dream.

While pursuing an acting career, Duval worked as a gourmet coffee server, butler at the Playboy mansion, bartender, painter’s apprentice and waiter. But since his biggest break, a part in the movie “Independence Day,” he’s supported himself and his collection solely with acting. (After “Independence Day” wrapped, Duval gave executive producer and director Roland Emmerich the best gift he could fathom: an original Luke Skywalker figure.)

Duval loves the instant bond that forms between collectors, right down to the cardinal unspoken rule: Never covet another man’s toys. (Translation: Buy your own.)

So when Duval learned that the new “Star Wars” figures would finally reach stores, he tipped off his friends. He alerted Lee Newson, whom he’d met a year ago at the Santa Monica Toys R Us. Newson had became friends with Brookhart after meeting him at the Woodland Hills Toys R Us. The foursome was complete with Nick Lanier, a 28-year-old actor who met Brookhart two years ago at a Los Angeles Toys R Us.

In the dark of night on this morning after Thanksgiving they rendezvoused at Brookhart’s house and piled into Duval’s Jeep Cherokee. Newson hadn’t bothered going to bed that evening.

The foursome was quiet during the drive, but the men snapped to attention as soon as Duval pulled into the Covina Toys R Us parking lot. They used their standard strategy: Brookhart and Lanier dashed for the line at the nearby Wal-Mart. Duval and Newson took Toys R Us.

Each of the four friends wanted the same figures. They pledged that whoever got lucky would try to get enough for everyone. This was a dangerous pact: Sometimes it was hard to purchase one. Last spring, when Brookhart tried to buy the popular Princess Leia Slave Girl, an irate mother started yelling that toys were for children.

As they stood shivering, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, Duval tried to explain why these excursions could produce such a high. Sure, you could find the figures for about $16 apiece at a black-market toy warehouse an hour from downtown, but to pay $6 retail was supreme.

“There’s nothing more satisfying than going into a regular store and buying what you want,” he said.

They waited--collectors, Christmas shoppers, scalpers--for the doors to open. At precisely 6, the special “doorbuster” sale time, the crowd surged forward as though swept by an unseen current.

“Here we go!” Newson shouted.

“Please save some for us,” Duval pleaded.

The line pressed through the door, and a woman screamed at the strangers ahead of her, “Don’t take my toy!”

Refusal to Give Up

Duval and Newson broke into a run, knowing where they needed to go from past visits. Their faces shone: The aisle was empty.

But it was a wasted opportunity.

“It’s just old stuff,” Duval announced dejectedly. Shoppers poured into the aisle.

In the midst of the throng was a man they knew and loathed named Bobby Liew, 20, who elbowed his way to the action figures. Within a minute, Liew had 25 packages of storm troopers and snow troopers in his arms. Liew has been known to resell toys, but these, he said, he intended to send to a collector overseas.

This was the Dark Side of Toy Collecting, Duval said, as he stalked toylessly out of the store. Rapacious scalpers and speculators could almost instantly empty a freshly stocked shelf.

Brookhart and Lanier fared no better at Wal-Mart. So at 6:35 a.m., the foursome raced off, reaching the Target in Duarte, which opened five minutes after their arrival. The line was too long. Duval and his friends rushed on to the Monrovia Toys R Us. Empty shelves. Newson and Duval complained to a clerk, who shrugged. The store manager suggested the group return later.

At 7:30 a.m., they pulled into a parking spot just outside the Target in Pasadena. Again, old stuff.

“Will you be bringing out any new ‘Star Wars?’ ” Newson asked hopefully.

“No,” the clerk answered sourly, sizing up Newson as a pro.

Clerks rarely treat collectors politely, Duval offered. Sometimes collectors are mistaken for scalpers, who will pluck a toy from a child’s hands. Store employees have also been known to horde new merchandise to sell on the black market. Other times clerks don’t want to be bothered by someone who knows the stock better than they do. For this reason, Brookhart often wears a button-down shirt and glasses and feigns ignorance, telling a salesman, “I’m looking for this ‘Star Trek’--um, ‘Star Wars’ thing for my nephew.”

At 8 a.m., the foursome reached the Burbank Toys R Us. Duval spotted an unloaded carton of “Star Wars” figures and their spirits soared. The morning was worthwhile after all.

Until the serial numbers revealed it was the old line.

Crushed, the friends floundered. A young couple approached and timidly asked, “What’s the hot toy?”

Nick Lanier put aside the misery of striking out at so many stores. Once again he was caught up in his unquenchable enthusiasm, the spirit that prompts him to sometimes boil figures to loosen their joints so he can create new ones with limbs from others.

And so, with the aplomb of a restaurant maitre d’, he began to gush over his favorite action figures. He told the couple, now slightly taken aback, about the playability of various figures, describing their sculpting and what collectors call points of articulation. He suggested the couple get the $17 three-figure pack, containing Luke Skywalker battling Darth Vader as Emperor Palpatine watches.

The couple, unpersuaded, wandered away. The four tired friends headed out of the store.

“Hey,” Duval said, turning to his buddies. “It’s just toys.”

Toy Story

Most Popular Action Figure Lines for 1997

1. Star Wars (3 1/4”)

2. Star Wars (12”)

3. Spawn

4. KISS

5. Star Trek

6. Batman and Robin

7. G.I. Joe 12”

8. X-Men