Here’s the true story of Barbie, from someone who was there

Dorothy Wilhelm
·4 min read
6

Let’s get this straight. Barbie is 64 years old and I know she’s had at least one face lift. She’s all smiles now, zooming around in a pink convertible, but she wasn’t always a movie star. She’s left a trail of broken hearts behind her. I know.

When Barbie came along in 1959, there were plenty of young mothers like me who took a very dim view of this leggy, bathing-suited fashion doll. We were used to dolls that cried and wet their diapers. In short, dolls which prepared our daughters for their future lives.

This figure whose real-life measurements would have been 39-18-33 at 5-foot-9 and about 110 pounds, would have had to walk on all fours if she’d been a real woman, according to HuffPost. This was way before Barbie was a doctor or an astronaut and we were plenty worried about what career she would prepare our daughters for.

And she was expensive! $3 for the doll, a small fortune for various items of apparel — and she couldn’t even say “Mama.” Dumb as a post.

At that time, my husband was stationed at White Sands Missile Range in the middle of the Tularosa Basin in New Mexico, with daily views of flying saucers overhead. We lived in the old Wherry government quarters and didn’t get a newspaper. I was pretty sure no news of Barbie could seep through and I was glad. TV reception required such a tall antenna that eagles occasionally rested on it, causing world-class snow and static, and nothing else. We told the kids they were programs about Arctic explorers.

In the summer of 1959, the Barbie doll was released without incident. Then, in October, both of our young children, ages 4 and 5 were scheduled to have their tonsils out. Today, this is minor outpatient surgery that most everyone breezes through. But the hospital we were allowed to use was in El Paso, two hours from the Missile Range. We were informed that the children would be in the hospital five days (!). And parents could only visit once in that time.

We were frantic with worry. Unable to think of anything better, we promised our little ones that if they would be brave, they could have any toy their hearts desired.

Our son’s wish was easy to grant. He had seen a wind-up bunny rabbit that would hop around tirelessly while his proud owner shot him with suction darts. Today, retired from the Coast Guard and Boeing, my son still says it was the best toy he ever had.

But for our daughter, the story was different. Unaccountably, her heart was now set on a Barbie doll, and Barbie was sold out. That first year, 300,000 Barbies were sold and by the late summer of 1959 the stores were out of Barbies. Little girls lined up everywhere but there were no Barbies available.

Then, in a Sears catalog, where we did all of our boutique shopping, I found her! Well, not Barbie, exactly, but a Barbie clone manufactured by Ideal. Her name was Mitzi. Her copycat zebra-striped bathing suit seemed barely to cover the essentials and she definitely had more essentials than Barbie did. Her scanty eyebrows climbed halfway up her forehead, as if she couldn’t believe the fuss, and she wore a ton of blue eyeshadow.

On the day the children came home from the hospital, we presented the toys as promised. Our son immediately went out into the back yard and started shooting the bunny rabbit, who took no offense.

Our daughter, on the other hand, realized the promise to her had not been kept. She threw the box on the floor and jumped on it with both feet.

“That’s not Barbie,” she remarked, walking away. At least she took it well.

Checking with her the other day, I asked if she remembered the incident. She sighed deeply. “I’m still getting over it,” she said.

Better days were ahead. A real Barbie with a real zebra-striped swimsuit and cascading blonde hair came for Christmas that year, and we basked happily in the fact that finally everything had worked out. So I was stunned when passing my daughter’s room later in the day, I saw her playing with tired old Mitzi while Barbie observed casually, peeping out of a laundry basket in the corner.

“Why aren’t you playing with your new Barbie?” I asked.

She gave me the patented Parents Are Too Dumb To Be Believed look and said, “Well, Mother, you don’t stop loving one child just because you have a new one.”

Take that, Barbie!

Where To Find Dorothy in August

Swimming Upstream Radio Show podcast: https://swimmingupstreamradioshow.com

  • August 7: Red Letter Days and Legendary Black Heroes

  • August 14: Generation Gap with Father Fred Mayovsky. Where is education going?

  • August 21: Midlife Career Switch, from Classroom to Jazz Stage

  • August 28: Are You Asking The Wrong Questions? Life Coach Richard Brown

Contact Dorothy by phone at 800-548-9264 or via email at Dorothy@swimmingupstreamradioshow.com