Buzz
In 1976, toy store owners were visibly frustrated, a clear indicator of a toy craze. The Kenner Company launched a unique 10-inch latex doll that disappeared from shelves almost immediately.
Stretch Armstrong, the $11 sensation that earned Kenner more than $50 million, had a surprising secret: he was essentially a large bag filled with corn syrup.
Leon Neal, AFP/Getty ImagesBefore the era of Star Wars, He-Man, and G.I. Joe, Stretch hit the scene. Unlike other action figures that were miniaturized to cut costs, Stretch stood out as possibly the largest action figure ever made. With a pull of his limbs, he could stretch to an impressive 4 feet, rivaling the elasticity of Reed Richards. While other toys of his size boasted cloth outfits and accessories, none could be twisted into knots like Stretch.
The concept for a stretchable toy originated in 1974 at Kenner, thanks to design director Jesse Horowitz. Sharing a New York office with James "Jeep" Kuhn, the vice president of research and development, Horowitz was tasked with brainstorming ideas. "Every week or two, he'd review my sketches and pick his favorites," Horowitz recalls.
Among Horowitz's sketches, one stood out to Kuhn: "Stretch Man." This figure allowed kids to stretch and twist its limbs, which would then snap back into place. The initial design used coiled springs, but this was scrapped due to safety concerns about children potentially injuring themselves on the metal.
"Jeep, with his background in chemical engineering, suggested using syrup instead," Horowitz explains. "We sent our secretary to buy Karo syrup from the local A&P, and we cleared out their stock."
In their office, Kuhn, Horowitz, and model maker Richie Dubek boiled the corn syrup to remove air bubbles and filled latex molds with it. After presenting the prototype to Kenner president Bernie Loomis, the product was swiftly approved.
For large-scale production, Kenner opted to use molds to craft a headless latex "muscleman." His neck served as the entry point for injecting a thick mixture of corn syrup, blended with microscopic fragments of glass and wood to enhance volume. After extensive testing, Kenner perfected the syrup's viscosity, ensuring Stretch could return to his original shape without damaging his latex exterior.
The patent suggested the technique could be adapted for various forms, from a sumo wrestler to a giraffe or even a "shapely woman." Horowitz experimented with a sumo prototype, but its weight made it impractical. As for the female figure, Kenner briefly considered it for a realistic doll concept to rival Barbie, but the idea never progressed beyond the drawing board.
Kenner launched Stretch in time for the 1976 holiday season. Backed by TV advertisements, the toy flew off shelves, becoming a retail sensation alongside Pong and Kenner’s Bionic Woman figure. Stretch also became one of the biggest corn syrup consumers nationwide.
To address potential leaks, Stretch came with 10 small bandages for repairs. Despite this, vigorous play often caused his gelatinous red filling to seep out, especially around his neck, where an O-ring secured his head and sealed the syrup opening.
Stretch enjoyed consistent sales from 1976 to 1979 before losing its appeal. Market oversaturation likely played a role: Kenner released variants like Stretch Octopus, Stretch Monster, and Stretch X-Ray, while Mego Corporation allegedly copied the concept using insider knowledge to produce Elastic superheroes like Batman and Spider-Man. Kenner sued Mego for unfair competition, and a court restricted Mego's manufacturing methods. However, by then, the trend had already faded.
Stretch Armstrong's delicate condition has turned him into a prized collectible. Unopened boxes from the '70s, free of syrup leaks, can command prices exceeding $1000 on auction platforms, with rare editions or prototypes valued even higher. Mego’s Elastic Batman, a coveted item among collectors, once went for $15,000.
Horowitz remains connected to collectors, many of whom seek his original designs and molds. However, one of the earliest Stretch prototypes didn’t endure to become a vintage treasure. "I brought home one of the first samples and placed it on our bookshelf," Horowitz recalls. "Facing the window, the UV rays degraded the latex, causing the red syrup to spill onto my wife’s books. That incident landed me in trouble for quite some time."
