HOLY COW! HISTORY: A 1947 cereal’s radioactive surprise

1947 began on a wildly exciting note for kids. That January, enthralling ads popped up in comic books, Sunday newspaper funny pages and on the radio. What they announced was breathtaking.

Children could have a tiny piece of the Atomic Age of their very own! That was heady stuff for youngsters just 18 months after two atomic bombs made two Japanese cities disappear beneath mushroom clouds.

The Atomic Age’s abrupt arrival was as titillating as it was misunderstood. Scientists promised mankind was entering a new era of amazing advancements, all made possible by harnessing the atom's power.

Though Americans were in awe, they didn’t yet fully understand what humanity was facing. Time magazine reported in October 1945 that an Arkansas farmer wrote to the nonexistent “Atomic Bomb Co.” in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, “I have some stumps in my field that I should like to blow out. Have you got any atomic bombs the right size for the job? If you have, let me know by return mail and let me know how much they cost. I think I should like them better than dynamite.”

Still, in that brief period before intercontinental missiles were created and the Soviet Union had yet to acquire a big, shiny one of its own, the world felt like it was on the threshold of an exciting new chapter, thanks to this remarkable discovery. For the time being, only the Good Guys held the secret to unlocking the atom, and it was widely believed it would be used for the greater good.

That's why those ads targeting children made such big news in the kiddie world in early 1947. Kix cereal was suddenly offering something almost too good to be true.

For a mere 15 cents (about $2.25 today) and a Kix box top, youngsters could send off for a Lone Ranger Atomic Bomb Ring!           

It contained a tiny scientific device called a spinthariscope holding a teeny trace of radioactive polonium-210. That’s right: just one nickel, dime and box top let kids squint into a tiny hole and gaze at tiny flashes sparked when alpha particles hit a zinc sulfide screen.

The promotion was a masterpiece of cobranding marketing. Just what the 19th-century Lone Ranger had to do with futuristic atomic energy was never explained. And it couldn’t be, because the only thing the two had in common was they were both at the zenith of their popularity just then.

The ads that hawked the rings were high water marks in hype, too, proclaiming them a “seething scientific sensation,” “super and stupendous” and even a way to see “genuine atoms split to smithereens.” To reassure America's moms, it was branded “PERFECTLY SAFE!” (emphasis original).

For kids growing up at the dawn of the Atomic Age, it was literally tomorrow at their fingertips.

Many stories circulating online today allege that parents, outraged by their kids being exposed to radioactivity, caused an uproar that led to the campaign being swiftly dropped.

Nothing could be further from the truth. In fact, the exact opposite happened.

The promotion was a grand-slam success. A history of “The Lone Ranger” radio show (which heavily promoted the special) received 1.6 million responses, making it by far the program’s most successful premium. Anecdotal evidence confirms that; one man recalled peering inside his ring for weeks after he got it.

As for claims that the campaign was swiftly dropped because of outraged protests, the Museum of Radiation and Radioactivity says the rings were available well into “the early 1950s.” It wasn’t done in by parental disapproval; as is the case so many times in the toy industry, the fad simply ran its course, and new things came along to capture kids’ interest.

So, were the rings dangerous? Not especially. Polonium-210 can cause serious problems if it’s swallowed or inhaled, but there’s no record of that happening. It also has a half-life of 138 days, meaning the little show it put on inside the device didn’t last long.

About the worst that can be said is that promoters were guilty of not practicing truth in advertising. Remember that “see genuine atoms split to smithereens” boast? They didn’t. What youngsters actually witnessed was scintillations caused by alpha decay, not nuclear fission. But who cared? At least they saw something!

The idea of a toy containing even a trace of radioactive material, however infinitesimal, is unimaginable today. But not so 80 years ago, when, for one brief, shining moment, kids played with little shiny things that made the future glow with possibilities. And all for just 15 cents, too.

Have comments, questions or suggestions you’d like to share with Mark? Message him at jmp.press@gmail.com.