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In the months after Sept. 11, warehouses around New York City became filled to capacity with millions of donated items, proof of the unprecedented outpouring of support for the victims of terrorism and their families. According to Newsweek, at least $75 million worth of merchandise was collected -- everything from cotton balls to toothpaste, dog food to shampoo -- much of it never making it to the intended recipients. But there were four items of which relief workers were in constant need, none of which were eventually shipped off to churches and charity organizations, unlike, say, the blankets and bath towels. Bear essentials
A prez's cuddly legacy still
thrills kids far and wideBy Scott Vogel
svogel@starbulletin.comThe four items? Thick sweatshirts, heavy-duty gloves, boots and ... teddy bears.
The recovery workers at Ground Zero, it turns out, were much consoled by the sight of these stuffed reminders of a gentler world, as were the Afghan children who screamed "Me! Me!" when United States Marines handed out teddy bears at Kabul's largest orphanage last month. In a place with no electricity or heat, where 500 children share four toilets and sleep two to a bed, the desire for a toy one can clutch for security must be especially keen.
As keen, perhaps, as the outrage that greeted the news that a man had purchased nine white teddy bears at a California Wal-Mart this past January. As the man had simultaneously bought seven propane canisters and 12 packages of BBs, the FBI was alerted, the fear being that the teddy bears might be retrofitted into small bombs. Although the man with the suspicious shopping list was never found, the story made headlines for days, in part because the chosen vehicle of terrorism seemed to underscore just how invidious America's new foes could be.
Given the strong feelings surrounding teddy bears, you might think that the little creatures have an ancient history, but in fact they're exactly 100 years old. It was in 1902 that President Theodore Roosevelt embarked on an expedition to Louisiana and Mississippi in hope of settling a land dispute between the two states, and there that a hunting party was organized as relief from the boredom brought on by settling a land dispute between two states.
What happened next is open to some conjecture, but it appears that TR's handlers did not choose a particularly felicitous hunting spot, for the prez came across little game during the hours-long shoot. To salvage the day, as it were, his minions eventually trapped a bear, tied it to a tree and invited Roosevelt to fire a few shots. Charlton Heston himself might have balked at this unsportsmanlike scenario, but it wasn't the hunt's contrived nature that gave Roosevelt pause. Rather, the bear was just too darn cute to kill.
Which brings us to the Clifford Berryman cartoon, pictured at right, that appeared in the next day's Washington Post accompanied by the caption "Drawing the Line in Mississippi." Berryman most likely intended a satirical comment on Roosevelt's micromanaging skills, but the panel represented something else to many Post readers -- that even presidents harbor cuddly fantasies about Ursas Minor.
What it represented to Morris and Rose Michton, two Russian immigrants who ran a small novelty store in New York, was an opportunity. After customers expressed interest in a stuffed bear Rose sewed as an homage to the cartoon, the Michtons wrote to Roosevelt in hopes they might name the bear Teddy, after the walk-softly-but-carry-big-stick president's unlikely nickname.
"I don't think my name is likely to be worth much in the toy bear business," wrote Roosevelt in reply, "but you are welcome to use it."
And use it they did, eventually building a conglomerate that became the Ideal Toy Company, and marketing bears of every shape and size. Teddy bears became the rage of children everywhere, a cultural phenomenon that was destined to produce a backlash. Priests worried that "bearmania," as it was called, would lead young girls to give up dolls and thus not develop the nurturing skills necessary for future motherhood. Psychologists, meanwhile, warned that placing a stuffed bear in a child's crib could lead to zoophilia (the performance of unnatural acts on animals).
Even today, Internet crackpots caution parents not to be fooled by our furry friends. Brad Rodénard, for instance, in a Web article subtitled "Errors to avoid to keep your baby from becoming homosexual," says that stuffed animals can cause junior serious "psychological disequilibrium." In consequence, "you should not give him any toys from birth to the age of roughly five or six. Nor should you give him musical instruments until he is about seven."
Hmm, let's see. A joyless, toyless, bearless youth. Seems like a rather high price to pay for heterosexuality, no?
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