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The Fandom Menace: Buyers come out in force for 'Star Wars' toys
Tuesday, May 04, 1999 By Gretchen McKay, Post-Gazette Staff Writer
It was midnight, all right, when Toys R Us store manager Lou Griffith unlocked the giant glass front door and stepped aside, welcoming scores of baseball-capped shoppers inside. But madness? Not exactly.
Though the 150 or so die-hard "Star Wars" fans waiting in line early yesterday were buzzing with excitement -- some had queued five hours earlier for first crack at loading up on "Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace" merchandise -- they were also mannerly, polite even.
Maybe they were heeding Griffith's plea to "please be nice to everyone and have fun" or his assurances that the Ross Park Mall store, which hours before had received a 53-foot-long trailer's worth of stuff, had "plenty of product."
Or it could have been they were just too tired to make much of a ruckus. It was, after all, 12:01 a.m. Even McKnight Road, normally choked with traffic, was pretty much deserted.
At any rate, when the doors finally parted there was no mad rush toward the specially designated "feature area," tucked amid the pool toys and video games; there were no tugs of war or fistfights over Anakin Skywalker's Pod Racers or Trade Federation Droid Fighters.
Mostly, it was just a hasty walk down the aisles, a quick look around and the systematic piling of whatever they could get their hands on into the bright-blue plastic carts and shopping baskets.
"I grew up with 'Star Wars,' " explained Reyes Osler, 28, of Pittsburgh, who arrived at the store at 7:15 p.m. Sunday, earning him the distinction of being First In Line. An avid collector of "Star Wars" memorabilia since 1995, he'd been planning a trip to the toy store for Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn action figures since he learned about the witching-hour opening April 14.
His goal for the evening?
"I want two of everything," he exclaimed with a grin.
Close behind, though not nearly as pumped, stood Pat Regan of Lawrenceville, chaperone to his 13-year-old son, Adam, and Adam's best buddy, Harley Wilson, also 13.
"I don't know who's crazier, them or me. They're the collectors -- I'm just the chauffeur," Regan joked. Then, sighing, he added, "This is all I've heard about for the past three weeks."
Harley, however, was practically bursting at the seams from the thrill of it all. That, or the eighth-grader was overdosing from the cup of mocha cappuccino he'd gulped down to help keep himself awake.
"It's the action, the suspense," he chirped, the $50 he had received for his confirmation burning a hole in his pocket.
Which is exactly what Toys R Us had anticipated when it organized the midnight sale, along with 700 trailer trucks of merchandise, at many of its 703 stores nationwide.
"This is a phenomenal film that's got the fans really excited," said Rebecca Caruso, Toys R Us vice president of corporate communications. "This is probably the biggest promotion we've ever done."
And early Monday, no one was more excited than 20-year-old Kip Henniquan of Brighton Heights, who had dragged parents Gregory and Bernice to the sale with him.
"These will go right in my room with my other 'Star Wars' stuff," he said, tossing toy after toy into his already-overflowing shopping cart as Mom scanned other shoppers' hauls to see what they might have missed.
Sure, he could have waited until morning -- or even next week -- to add to his collection, but what fun would that have been?
"I wanted to get them now, first, before anyone else," he said.
Henniquan adjusted the rim of his sky-blue FUBU baseball cap and stuck his hands into the pockets of his knee-length baggy shorts.
"Hey Mom, look for Darth Maul," he shouted, disappearing into the crowd.
"Who? Oh, more goodies!" shouted Bernice Henniquan right back, grabbing an unopened box of action figures from a store employee, ripping it open and quickly fingering through it.
Then, "Have we got that guy in there?" she asked her husband, tossing him another action figure.
All around, the mostly male, mostly 20-something crowd was doing much the same thing. One of the eight employees on duty would arrive from the storeroom with a new box, only to have it spirited away by an anxious shopper.
"This is crazy," one clerk observed, laughing, as one fan took a box to a side aisle and spread its contents in front of the baby wipes.
A few minutes later, Henniquan who works at D&K variety store in Bellevue, wandered back over to his parents.
"Was I right? Do I have all four figures?" he asked.
"Don't make me do it again," his dad groaned, only half seriously.
"This is hilarious. I get such a kick out of this," Gregory Henniquan admitted as he peered into the cart to make sure they had managed to nab at least one each of four different 3 3/4-inch Battle Droids. An avid fan in his own right, he announced he planned to take the day off on May 12 to stand in line for tickets to the new Lucas movie, which opens May 19.
"You never know which one will be worth something," he said about the toys.
Not everything proved to be a fan magnet. The large collection of "Menace"-themed sleeping bags and Queen Amidala bike helmets remained untouched, as did the shelves of Rubik's Darth Maul puzzles, inflatable pool toys, glow-in-the-dark Droids and collector watches.
But just try to find an 11 1/2-inch Queen Amidala doll, or the most sought-after toy, a 12-inch Darth Maul. Those were scooped up within minutes.
At 12:35 a.m., just 34 minutes after they dashed through the doors, the Henniquans headed to one of four check-out counters, only to lose Kip to one more quick look-about.
"He's just gonna keep lookin', and lookin' and lookin'," his father muttered.
They passed North Hills residents Kelli Kleeb and Chuck Singer, who were carefully sorting through a small pile of 3 3/4-inch Battle Droids. That is, Chuck was sorting -- Kelli, 22, eyes half closed, was resting against a shelf laden with M&Ms.
"I'm tired -- I ran the [Pittsburgh] marathon this morning," she explained. "But I dragged him on the last three miles with me, so he dragged me here."
Last in line, "we were smart," Singer said. "We got here at 12:05."
Though it took more than five minutes for cashier Ursula Cordial to ring up Henniquan's many purchases, she didn't seem the least bit impressed.
"One guy spent $400, and it didn't even faze him," she noted. "Me, I would have fainted."
But when she hit the "total" button a few moments later, there, in flashing neon green for all the world to see: $409.46.
"Oh, God!" exclaimed Gregory, looking just this side of faint.
"That's not too bad," insisted Kip, as his mother pulled out her wallet.
"Hey, it's his money," agreed Bernice.
Maybe it was madness after all.
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