
The Cabbage Patch Kids were the brainchild of Xavier Roberts, a Georgia born artist who learned the art of needlepoint from his widowed mother who helped support her family by making quilts. By the late seventies Roberts had created a bunch of soft fabric dolls that resembled chubby little kids with yarn for hair. He brought them to craft fairs and when patrons asked if the “Little People,” as Roberts originally called them, were for sale he regretfully told them no. But he quickly added that “they were, however, up for adoption.”
As Stephen Sondheim said, “you’ve gotta get a gimmick if you’re gonna get a hand.” The whole illusion that these weren’t just man made dolls but rather real kids that you adopted and made part of your family was a novel idea that added to the fantasy of parenthood. Roberts went on to form a company called Original Appalachian Artworks and rented a decommissioned birthing hospital in his hometown of Cleveland, Georgia to make and sell the kids. Calling the operation Babyland General Hospital, Roberts was on staff sporting a white lab coat and acting as the hospitals resident obstetrician. Helping him was a full staff of “nurses.” Soon Babyland General became a popular tourist destination for people passing through the greater Atlanta area. In 1980 Roberts was featured on the TV show Real People and he and his Little People were getting write-ups in Time, Newsweek, and the Wall Street Journal. That’s when an Atlanta advertising executive named Roger Schlaifer entered the picture. He proposed a licensing arrangement for the toy brand, which they decided to rename the Cabbage Patch Kids so as not to draw confusion to a line of toys put out by Fisher-Price. He also began to look for a manufacturer for the dolls but Roberts was weary of mass-producing them. Part of their appeal was that each one was “different in their own special way.” That’s when Schlaifer spoke with the execs at Coleco.
Originally known as the Connecticut Leather Company (their name derived from the first two letters of each word – CO-LE-CO), the company branched out into toys by making inflatable backyard swimming pools and toy sporting equipment. They were also pioneers in the computer business thanks to their Telstar and Colecovision video game consoles and their ultimately ill-fated ADAM home computer system. With their computer infrastructure the toy company was able to mass produce the dolls but offer some kind of variation on each one. While the bodies would still made from soft material and the hair from yarn, the heads would now be made of vinyl and it was here that the computers could be programed to give each one a variation – different eye and hair color, an extra dimple here or one less freckle there. Each one also came with a birth certificate and adoption papers. The computers could come up with an endless variety of plural names like Celia Ann, Stephanie Mary or John Nathan to give them a unique moniker (the plural names created more possible varieties). An agreement was signed and Coleco went to work manufacturing the kids.
Backed by a television campaign that emphasized that the kids weren’t just a new toy but a new member of the family, sales immediately began to soar! Kids were already putting these ugly duckling offspring at the top of their Christmas lists when Newsweek ran a cover story on them with a headline proclaiming “What a Doll!” That was it. Let the games begin!
Quite simply no one had ever seen the hysteria caused by these soft little humanoids as demand for them went through the roof. People all over the country were lining up to buy the $30.00 toy and sometimes-prospective buyers would get into fistfights over the kids. There was no YouTube then for videos to go “viral” but plenty of video footage of shoppers going at it made the national news. It was a toy craze the likes of which no one had ever seen before (but would see again).
For all the hysteria that they caused, many a little girl was delighted beyond belief to see one of these cuddly kiddies waiting for them with outstretched arms underneath the Christmas tree (though Cabbage Patch Kids were advertised as being unisex, any boy who had one was sure to get jumped on the playground once the word got out). Kids did indeed genuinely love their Cabbage Patch Kids and Coleco came up with a number of gimmicks to keep the illusion of actual childrearing alive. One of the first things that new parents could do was send in a registration card with the kids “birthday” (i.e. the day the dolls were purchased) on it. It would be entered into a database and one year later a birthday card would be sent to their adopted parents house. But also like real children raising a Cabbage Patch Kid wasn’t cheap. Soon a barrage of accessories were released for the dolls including travel bags, strollers, swing sets and high chairs. Original Appalachian Artworks still held the copyright and were able to license the Cabbage Patch Kid name and image onto a wide variety of school supplies, lunch boxes, pajamas, records, breakfast cereals and other products. Soon Coleco was producing new models of Cabbage Patch Kids such as kids with glasses, kids with washable hair, talking kids and even “snack time kids” that ate plastic french fries (these were later recalled for literally biting the hand that fed them). Soon there was Cabbage Patch Kid preemies, toddlers and weird little human-animal hybrids called “Cousas”.
By the middle of the decade Coleco was relying almost exclusively on the popularity of the Cabbage Patch Kids and not developing new toy lines. When the popularity of the kids began to wane Coleco began to slide into receivership. By 1988 they went bankrupt. There popularity may have peaked but they were never discontinued. Hasbro, Mattel, Toys “R” Us and Wicked Cool Toys have all owned the manufacturing rights to the toys at one point or another and even if though they’ve never come close to achieving the level of popularity they received during the Reagan years they’re still readily available for past Cabbage Patch mommies who want to buy one for their own child or just want to buy one for their own. Indeed, to this day there’s a passionate Cabbage Patch Kid collectors market. And Babyland General still operates in Cleveland, Georgia. Roughly a quarter of a million people visit the faux maternity ward every year, a good many of them returning home with a new addition to the family.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TijfC-A9W4&index=22&list=PLO2Mrb4LOnLJ7DG362wIZvaHvU2l1gl41









