Sugar-frosted memories of 1970s cereal | Mark J. Price

My childhood memories are frosted with sugar and fortified with eight essential vitamins.

Was there a greater joy in the 1970s than devouring a giant bowl of sweetened cereal while watching Saturday morning cartoons?

Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll make breakfast today.

In those glorious days of youth, I inhabited a colorful world of leprechauns, tigers, sailors, toucans, rabbits, frogs, aliens, monsters, bears, cuckoos and some kid named Mikey. Cereal companies were so proud of their syrupy products that they boldly declared it in the brand names: Sugar Frosted Flakes, Sugar Pops, Sugar Smacks, Sugar Chex and Super Sugar Crisp.

On Saturdays, I’d turn to Channel 3, 5 or 8 and let the cathode rays bathe me in frantic animation and unbridled consumerism. As a testament to the power of advertising, I can still rattle off slogans from TV commercials that aired before the U.S. bicentennial.

“They’re gr-r-reat!” “Snap! Crackle! Pop!” “Two scoops of raisins!” “Honeycomb’s big! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” “They’re magically delicious.” “A is for Apple! J is for Jacks!” “Silly Rabbit!” “Have breakfast with the king!”  “Follow your nose! It always knows.” “He likes it! Hey, Mikey!”

And no matter how hard I try, I will never forget the Freakies theme song: “Oh, we are the Freakies. We are the Freakies. And this is our Freakies tree. We never miss a meal. ’Cause we love our cereal.”

1970s cereal brands remembered

Oh, how I recall the great rivalries of the day. Quisp vs. Quake. Baron Von Redberry vs. Sir Grapefellow. Franken Berry vs. Count Chocula.

The monster cereals were so popular that they spawned Boo Berry, Fruit Brute and, much later, Yummy Mummy. My all-time favorite, Cap’n Crunch, launched a fleet of sequels, including Peanut Butter Crunch, Crunch Berries, Cinnamon Crunch, Punch Crunch and Vanilly Crunch.

One of the great benefits of childhood sleepovers was discovering what cereal brands lurked inside the cupboards of friends’ homes. Just about anything could be in there: Alpha Bits, King Vitamin, Trix, Kaboom, Froot Loops, Lucky Charms, Life, Cheerios, Cocoa Puffs, Rice Krispies, Golden Grahams, Fruity Pebbles, Kix, Cookie Crisp.

Please pass the milk. Let’s watch “Scooby-Doo.”

I liked the variety packs featuring 10 little boxes of different cereals. You could sample unfamiliar brands without committing to larger containers.

Not particularly dexterous, I never mastered the fine art of turning the little box into a bowl by cutting along the perforated line and pouring milk into the bag. Truthfully, I didn’t understand the concept. Here was a cereal for people who had milk and a spoon but no bowl. Did that happen often?

Let’s be honest: I wasn’t strictly in it for the food. Cereal companies offered prizes in boxes, and I was easily amused. While shopping with my family at Acme, A&P, Fazio, Kroger, Sparkle or other stores, I’d inevitably find myself in the cereal aisle, gazing longingly at the prizes advertised on boxes.

Decisions, decisions. Did I beg my parents for the cereal that I truly enjoyed or for the brand that had the coolest premiums? Tough call.

“Mom, can we please get the Shredded Cardboard Flakes? They look so delicious and I’m not basing that opinion AT ALL on the miniature pinball machine found inside specially marked packages.”

At home, I’d turn the box left and right, peering inside, pawing my way through cereal, trying to find the treasure. Often it was a glop of plastic that looked nothing like the picture on the box, but sometimes it was amazing.

My favorite cereal prizes

I remember my favorite premiums:

● Post Cereals produced Pink Panther Flakes for a few years in the 1970s to promote a Saturday cartoon on NBC. The pink-frosted cornflakes turned the milk an unappetizing pink. Somewhere in my belongings, I still have the Pink Panther 5-in-1 Spy Kit, a 5-inch plastic figure that conceals a magnifying glass, whistle, telescope and secret message slot, the perfect device should I ever become a secret agent.

● The Ghostly Grabber from Post’s Alpha-Bits was a lot of fun. The glow-in-the-dark plastic, resembling green translucent bones, snapped together to form a device that could extend 8½ inches to clasp or pick up objects. Pebbles Cereal offered a similar Rock Grabber in red, yellow and blue. Kids could join two grabbers together to form a Super Grabber, although I never owned more than one. After several years of quality grabbing, my toy broke and I threw it away.

● My fascination with phosphorescent prizes grew when Post’s Super Sugar Crisp, later to be called Golden Crisp, offered glow-in-the-dark monsters. The 1½-inch busts came in four styles: Phantom of the Opera, Mummy, Wolfman and Frankenstein’s monster. You snapped them together, charged them under a light and admired them in the dark. Today, online auction sites offer a complete set for up to $275. I sure wish I knew what happened to mine.

● Some prizes were on the back of the box instead of inside. Sugar Crisp gave away records by The Archies. Kids cut along the dotted line, punched out the center hole and played the cardboard disc on a turntable. I had the song “Bang-Shang-A-Lang,” whose nonsense chorus went: “My heart went bang shang a lang, bang shang a lang. Bang shang a lang, bang bang.” I played it over and over until the flimsy record wore out. At least seven other Archies songs were featured on boxes, but I didn’t own any others — much to the relief of my parents.

● Grins & Smiles & Giggles & Laughs, the most 1970s-sounding cereal ever created, supplied bowlfuls of manic munching. Ralston advertised the smiley-faced product as “the crunchy cereal that smiles back at you.” Five vinyl magnets featured the zany title characters and a cranky machine named Cecil who, in Ralston mythology, manufactured the cereal — by expelling it from its mouth — when the others made him laugh. I completed the entire set, including the hard-to-find Cecil. Nearly 50 years later, I still own the scuffed, discolored magnets!

Saturday morning cartoons are now a thing of the past. Over the decades, I learned to appreciate more adult fare such as Wheaties, Total, Raisin Bran, Special K and Kellogg's Corn Flakes.

We all have to grow up, right? Well, not in every way.

If my childhood friends were to come over for a sleepover in 2023, they’d still find Lucky Charms, Peanut Butter Crunch, Life Cereal and Cinnamon Toast Crunch in the cupboard.

And I just might be wearing the Cap’n Crunch T-shirt that I ordered via mail with four proofs of purchase from specially marked packages.

What a glorious morning. Please pass the milk.

Mark J. Price can be reached at mprice@thebeaconjournal.com

This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: Sugar-frosted memories of 1970s cereal | Mark J. Price