RESNICK'S ΤΟΥΣ

TOYS, TOYS EVERYWHERE

ERNIE RESNICK SWUNG OPEN THE BATHROOM door in his modest Tucson home and pointed ed to what was probably intended as a linen cabinet. Instead of towels and washcloths, however, magazines and catalogs crammed the three wide shelves. Resnick grabbed a couple and, in his usual clipped speech, declared: "See? Toys. Every one of them deals with toys! That's all I read. Maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but a forgivable one because Resnick was trying to make the point that toys are an omnipresent part of his life. But "omnipresent" doesn't quite do it in this case: in the house that Resnick shares with his wife and three of their four children, there isn't a single place you can sit where several toys would not be within arm's reach. Omnipresent? Sure. But "overwhelming" and "ungraspable" would also do.

Where someone else might have a bookcase, Resnick has a display case filled with magic decoder rings and tin cars and planes. In a living room where someone else might place their favorite rocking chair, Resnick has a fat-wheeled Elgin bicycle, a relic from 1945. In the den where many might have an entertainment center and a sizable television screen, Resnick has a small TV engulfed by thousands of fire engines, cartoon figures, tin trucks, replicas of Howdy Doody and Amos and Andy, and hundreds of similar toys.

These aren't the toys that people usually talk about in 1994. Today it's Pac-Man and Sega Genesis and Nintendo and numerous other computerized toys and games that command the attention of kids and some adults. But not Resnick. He wants no part of computer games. Resnick, who turned 57 last summer, wants the toys from his childhood or earlier, objects that for him represent a simpler era in American history.

During my visit, Resnick stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling display cases he had built into his den to house one part of his burgeoning toy collection, and remarked: "Think of it. You probably can't remember what you ate two weeks ago, but I'll bet you remember some toys from your childhood. Toys are the only gifts that are given with complete love. Every time you see a toy, you light up and feel good."

On the basis of what I saw in Resnick's house, he should be feeling good all the time. The living room, in addition to housing the Elgin bike, had two fullsize sleds; a coin-operated popcorn machine of the sort that used to be found in movie lobbies; cast-iron fire engines, trucks, boats, and trains; a Buck Jones BB gun with a compass and sundial built into the stock; a toy radio station; Buck Rogers ray guns; a stationary toy steam engine; a lamp made from a parking meter; and a five-foot-high case containing rare tin replicas of comic book characters.

"Look at these things," Resnick said, as though it were possible to be in the house and not do so. "Remember this? That's the Toonerville Trolley. That's Howdy Doody, then Mickey Mouse, Happy Hooligan, Charlie McCarthy. Hey, how about Flash Gordon. Look, here's a Foxy Grandpa penknife - he was a comic strip character in 1900. And look at this. ThisResnick won't acquire a toy unless it “speaks” to him, and, judging by the size of his collection, he's been doing a lot of listening over the years. A stroll through his home is like entering a toyland time warp. In the living room, he's gathered an eclectic group of memorable characters, including Howdy Doody and Bob Smith from the 1950s; Maggie and Jiggs, '40s; Popeye with a parrot cage, '30s; a Dick Tracy car and a Lone Ranger toothbrush holder, both from the late '30s; Ferdinand the Bull, '40s; Amos and Andy walking figures, '30s; along with another Lone Ranger, from the 1940s.

Up another toy, and then another, and then I went crazy with it, and I guess that's it. From now until I croak, I'll be collecting toys."

So rapidly did the collection grow that it wasn't long before Resnick and his wife, State Senator Cindy Resnick, added a den to accommodate the overflow. That was where the floor-to-ceiling cases were installed. The den also holds a six-foot-high Timex display case with revolving shelves filled with smaller toys.

"I try to collect only mint toys," Resnick said. "With a lot of the older ones, that's impossible, but I won't buy any rusted old piece of junk.

"Look at this," he said, sliding open one of the cases. "This is a Marusam Cadillac, made in 1951 by a Japanese company. The Japanese made small cars then that were fantastic." Resnick held the car in the palm of his hand and grew wistful for a moment. "This right here should have told theAmerican people what was coming," he said. "When you can build a miniature car to look as perfect as this, well, that was the beginning of what we're seeing right now."

Over the years, Resnick's collection has grown so vast that he's lost track of the number of additions that have been made to the house to accommodate it all. "I think it's four, maybe five if you count the porch, but the porch is where Cindy likes to do her reading and take care of papers,