February 12, 1999

Beanie fans brave elements in their quest

By Garret Leiva
Herald staff writer
     
      For hours, Sylvia Norton withstood the icy needles of February rain for a chance at a Chihuahua. Judy Dorenvecker braved the elements for a bear. Standing near the end of a line that snaked a half-block down Front Street, Becky Ruttledge held out hopes for a hare.
      No matter what the species, everyone only wanted one thing- Beanies.
      Despite woeful weather, more than a hundred people crowded the sidewalk in front of My Favorite Things Monday morning with their sights set on bagging one of 29 newly-released Beanie Babies. Some walked out clutching 'Mooch the Monkey' and 'Scat the Cat.' Many only walked away wet.
      While other collectible fads have gone the way of the pet rock, the line-up Monday dispelled any notion that the Beanie bonanza has run dry. Even after years on the market, the Ty bean bag toy still exudes animal magnetism.
      To keep things civilized, however, those waiting in line were asked to refrain from succumbing to the law of the jungle. Collectors were let in two at a time inside the downtown store with each person allotted a maximum purchase of 7 Beanie Babies. Cutting and bribery would not get you through the front door faster.
      So why would a grown adult wait for hours in the freezing rain to pay $5.99 plus tax for a bean bag? For some it is the thrill of the hunt, not necessarily the gift-wrapping and bagging of the quarry.
      "It's fun. It's like hunting mushrooms. When you find one you're really excited," said Sylvia Norton of Traverse City, who was looking to collar a canine Beanie for her dog training daughter, Bethany.
      Hoping to experience that excitement, Becky Ruttledge of Kalkaska traversed treacherous roads so she could take home a tye-dyed rabbit. Ruttledge said she got bit by the Beanie Baby bug after watching her 7-year-old daughter amass more than a 100 dolls.
      "She got hooked when McDonald's had Teenie-Beanies in their Happy Meals and its been all money since then," noted Ruttledge, who said the most she has paid is $150 for a 'Garcia' Beanie Baby.
      "I once saw a set of little dinosaurs Beanies for $1,300. One lady I spoke with said she saw a plain-face Teddy Bear Beanie that was being sold for $1,700."
      Aside an unwillingness to take out a bank loan to buy Beanies, Lindsey DeTal can't fathom what the big fuss is about anyway. An employee at My Favorite Things, DeTal said during the summer would-be buyers attempted to camp-out in front of the store while others have tried to fight employees "all over a bean bag toy."
      "If we let everyone in at once it would be a big swarm of crazy people," said DeTal, who noted that several Beanie bears sold out 15 minutes after the store opened at 10 a.m. "I just don't understand what it's all about."
      Working the door - a job which at times seems to personify that of a doorman at Studio 54 in its heyday - DeTal pointed out that no one has ever tried to bribe their way in monetarily. Instead most try another approach- the guilt trip.
      "I had someone come in once and say that her daughter had seizures and that the only thing that would take her out of them would be a new Beanie," DeTal said.
      "People will bring their crying children and say that the only way they'll stop is if they have a Beanie and that they'll pay double for it. I tell them that's ridiculous."
      Sometimes pressure to purchase a Beanie, however, becomes a slightly bitter Catch-22.
      "I have to buy something after waiting in line for an hour," noted Judy Dorenvecker of Long Lake Township, who had hoped to buy an 'Erin' bear for her granddaughter Monique but settled for a Cardinal instead.
      Other times, those in line seek a sympathetic ear in hopes of getting a few steps closer to the door. But as one collector found out, even a real babies come second to these plush ones.
      "My (other) daughter has an ultrasound at 11 a.m. to determine if she is having twins and I don't want to miss it," said Norton, who took her place in line around 9:30 a.m.
      "I've tried to lay a guilt trip on the people in front of me but they won't give me cuts."