Duncan Comes to the Paper Shack

 

As a kid in Wichita it was a treat when the impeccably-dressed Duncan Top guy came to school to announce an upcoming contest and show us his tricks.  There was a concrete pad next to the school that faced out onto the dirt playground and this was where we all gathered to throw our tops.  He would just show up at recess and go through his tricks which were so far beyond what any of us could do.  Whoever could do the neatest trick would get his name engraved on the crown of his top.  The Duncan Guy would pull out his pocketknife and quickly carve the owner’s name in some exotic script.  He would tell us where to meet for the contest after school and it was always either outside of Tompkin’s Drug Store or Yost’s Grocery.  For the last trick he always did a version of “Walk the Tightrope” where the finale was flipping the top high into the air, opening one side of his coat and catching it in his inside pocket.  Sound familiar?   

As my top skills fell somewhere below the middle of the pack, I never got beyond doing more than three tricks without bleeding so I always attended the contests as a spectator.  The winners would get new tops that retailed for $0.25, the runners-up got their names engraved on the crowns of their theirs and Tompkins or Yost’s would make a few bucks selling new units, strings and 5 cent Marshmallow Root-beers.  Tops were available in any drug or grocery store in Wichita.  Nobody sold Yo-yo’s.  I had heard of them but had never seen one in my life.

Fast Forward to Montlake

We had moved into the house at the corner of 24^th and Calhoun.  Don’s Drugstore was a block away so I walked down the street to buy a new top and get a 5 cent Marshmallow Root beer.  Don didn’t know what I was talking about.  Don had never heard of a 5 cent Marshmallow Root beer and didn’t know anything about tops.  I told him that they were wooden and made by Duncan.  He showed me boxes of Duncan Yo-yo’s and the logo on the box was the same.  

“Sure you don’t want one of these?” he said holding out the box.  

I said, “Nope.  I want a top and a 5 cent Marshmallow Root beer” as I walked out the door in disgust.  

A block south and across 24^th was Royal Drugs so I paid them a visit.  When I walked in a large woman, who I would come to know was “Fanny”,  burned me to my soul with such a jaundiced stare that I thought I would die.  She said: “What do you want?”. 

I felt distinctly unwelcome, looked at the floor and muttered that I was looking for a Duncan top and a 5 cent Marshmallow Root beer.  She didn’t exactly tell me to get out, but she made it clear that whatever it was that I was asking for she had no intention of helping me.  Her husband, Jake, must have overheard the exchange and came out to talk to me.  He was super-friendly and very respectful.  He showed me their stock of Duncan Yo-yo’s while Fanny glowered at me over his shoulder.  Jake admitted that he hadn’t seen a top since he was a child.  Further, he said that he had never heard of a 5 cent Marshmallow Root beer but if I knew what went into one, he would try to make one for me.  

I was confused.  How could something as ordinary as a Duncan top or a Marshmallow Root beer be such mysteries in my new home? 

I hadn’t been in Montlake long before I noticed that lots of guys had yo-yos.  They were Duncans and usually made of wood.  Each half a cosmetic mirror of the other.  A solid color with a contrasting band across it.  There were a couple of other wooden models called the “Butterfly” and the “Satellite”.  

The Butterfly was just a regular yo-yo with the outsides mounted to the inside and the Satellite was a strange round-ish thing.  

Both were totally bogus to the max and were to the Yo-yo what the AMC Gremlin was to the automobile.  Ugly and awkward.

And then there were the “Duncan Imperials”.  Beautiful clear, colored plastic models with a stainless-steel pin instead of wood.  They were gorgeous!  Ruby red, dark purple, royal blue and emerald green.  They sparkled in the sun like nothing else.  They cost a buck (a full month’s allowance), instead of the $0.25 that the wooden models went for.  Very few guys had them.  The ones that did seemed to have few tricks and those tricks relied upon the ability of the yo-yo to sleep forever.  With that polished steel pin they could make them “Sleep” all day long and go “Round the World” multiple times before reloading.  While guys with the Duncan Standards were doing  “Walk the Dog”, “Round the World”, “Rock the Baby”, “Shoot the Moon” and other esoteric tricks, the Geeks with the Butterflies and Satellites struggled to coax any kind of a trick out of the recalcitrant beasts.  Meanwhile, the guy with the Imperial would be standing cool as a cucumber his yo-yo whirring away sound asleep and the sun shining through the plastic sent brilliant colored rays in all directions.  The Imperial was truly a yo-yo for Posers.

When the formally dressed Duncan Yo-yo guy showed up at the school grounds for recess it felt strangely familiar.  He was there to pimp yo-yo’s and announce the time and location of the next contest which would be held after school and outside of the paper shack on McGraw or on Lynn Street next to Jakes.  He would provide tips and challenge guys to try new tricks.  If you did well he would give you a pack of strings or pull out his pocketknife and carve your name on the side of your Yo-yo. 

His last performance was some combination of tricks that culminated with “Shoot the Rocket to the Pocket” where he took the string off his finger while the yo-yo slept, tossed it high in the air, opened one side of his dress coat and caught the descending yo-yo in his inside pocket. 

 After school we would all meet by the paper shack or next to Jake’s and practice whatever tricks we knew.  I had succumbed to the Siren’s call and by saving my $0.03 milk money and allowance for a month I made the early life-style decision to invest in an emerald green Imperial.  Unfortunately, I was now the Poser who stood coolly to the side with beautiful plastic yo-yo bathing the world with sparkling green rays of light.  I didn’t even want to “Walk the Dog” because the pavement would have scratched “my precious”. 

 Needless to say, I never won a contest.  I was too cool. 

I never won a new yo-yo.  I was too cool.

I never got a free pack of strings.  I was too cool.

I never got my name engraved on the side of a yo-yo and would have never allowed my green precious beauty to have been defiled in that way.  Again, I was too cool.  

Instead, I would stand by the door of the paper shack or outside of Jake’s with my Imperial sound asleep surrounded by the flashing green refractions of sunlight while casually eating a bag of Barbeque Potato Chips and sipping on a Shasta Crème Soda.

I was simply too cool. 

The Poser