1983: The year everybody lost their minds over Cabbage Patch Kids

Cabbage Patch Kids, with their birth certificates and adoption papers, were the hard-to-find, must-have toy of 1983. (File photo)

The Christmas shopping season of 1983 was going to be a busy one for Central New York's toy stores.

Adults wanted the new popular board game Trivial Pursuit.

For children, old favorites like Barbie, G.I. Joe and Atari video games were again in demand, as were new toys like Hasbro's Glo-Worm, Care Bears and action figures from the latest Star Wars movie, "Return of the Jedi" were all popular.

The appeal of the Cabbage Patch Kid was that no two dolls were said to alike.

(Uniquely 1980s toys like Mr. T dolls and the car from the TV show "Knight Rider" were also on children's Christmas lists.)

But many shoppers left stores disappointed, devastated they could not find the year's hardest to find toy

For the entire season, the Cabbage Patch Kid, a doll said to be "so ugly, they're cute," was almost impossible to get.

The dolls were the creation of Xavier Roberts, a Georgia artist. They were sold by toy company Coleco for about $25.

The Cabbage Patch Kids had a unique hook that made them popular. No two dolls were said to be alike, and each came with their own birth certificate and adoption papers, which when completed by the doll's new "parents" and sent to Coleco, an official "validated adoption certificate" was mailed out.

Coleco grossly underestimated the dolls' appeal and there were shortages reported nationwide.

"What we are experiencing is an unprecedented consumer demand for the dolls," said a Coleco spokeswoman.

To satisfy the demand, Coleco promised to increase production significantly, but many store owners across the country were telling disappointed shoppers that more than likely they would not ever have enough to meet demand before Christmas.

In Syracuse, the situation was the same.

"They just are not producing enough," Karen Schulman, a saleswoman in the J.C. Penney at Shoppingtown Mall told the Herald-Journal on Nov. 21. "Our orders are backed up."

Even before Thanksgiving, people were lining up at stores, sometimes in the early morning, just for a chance to get one.

The manager at the North Syracuse Service Merchandise reported that one morning he counted 50 people, some as far away as Virginia, at his store's front door.

The week following Thanksgiving, Syracuse and the rest of the country, went Cabbage Patch crazy.

In Elmira, a department store's advertisement promising the doll, caused a thousand people to gather at the doors prior to the store's opening. The mob rushed in and trampled an Olean woman.

A near-riot happened at the Hills' department store in Charleston, West Virginia, when 5,000 people fought for the store's 120 dolls.

Five people were injured at a Zayre's in Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania and the store manager armed himself with a baseball bat

"They weren't acting like adults, they were acting like crazed maniacs," a shopper said after losing a battle for a Cabbage Patch Kid in Manchester, Maine.

In Syracuse, the situation was a little more civil.

An estimated 800 to 900 shoppers gathered in front of each of the area's three Hills' department stores before the stores opened at noon on Sunday, Nov. 27, hoping to get their hands on one of the store's promised 125 dolls.

While there were some reports of pushing and shoving, there was nothing like the pandemonium seen in the other parts of the country.

"This is unlike anything we've ever seen before," said Hills' vice president Wes McDonough. "Nothing has created frenzy like this. It just defies reason."

At the DeWitt store, police asked the store to allow in only a few shoppers at a time.

At Kiddie City, the store assigned numbers to customers on a first-come, first serve basis. All the 264 dolls were sold without incident.

One woman, from Fulton, did not find her local Cabbage Patch experience to be so orderly.

In a letter to the editor published on Dec. 9 she described her participation in the "Cabbage Patch Massacre" at the Hills' store at Penn-Can Mall:

"As the key appeared to unlock the door, between us and the unclaimed treasure, I felt myself being suffocated by the pressure of the aggressive hands of 'people.' Running only to escape the rushing tidal wave behind me, caring not for the dolls but my safety, I was suddenly pushed to the floor with my shoes flying in different directions. As I was lying on the floor being trampled and calling for help, I feared for my life. I arose stocking footed, face bleeding and knees badly bruised."

Looking around at "these maniacs," she wondered what had happened to the Christmas spirit of "peace on earth, good will towards men."

It was a sentiment echoed in letters and editorials everywhere.

"Christmas has not only become commercialized but also has become unnecessarily violent," Steven Avery of Solvay wrote.

A December 2 editorial in the Post-Standard asked what Cabbage Patch mania said about humanity:

"Which raises the question of how people would react if they were faced with a crisis, like a shortage of food. If adults will attack over so simple a thing as a popular doll, what would they to get the last loaf of bread?"

None of this mattered to frantic parents, who, not wanting to give a presale receipt in place of a doll, pored over newspaper classifieds, which offered Cabbage Patch Kids for double or triple the original price. Imitation dolls, called Flower Kids, were also being sold.

An advertisement from December 1983 from Backus Ford, which offered to knock off $500 off the price of a new car in exchange for a new Cabbage Patch Kid, papers included.

Shopping mall Santas, had the tough job of not getting kids hopes up.

"You understand we're running short," Bill Hoddinger who played Santa at Shoppingtown, said he told youngsters. "If the elves catch up, we'll try to bring you one."

But as Christmas got closer, some good came out of the Cabbage Patch mania.

Radio stations, businesses and charities began raffling or auctioning off the popular dolls, with the proceeds going to charity.

WNDR in Syracuse auctioned one Cabbage Patch off for $205, the proceeds going to Vera House.

The owner of the Syracuse Super Flea Market in Baldwinsville gave three dolls to WSEN in exchange for 75 radio ads. The radio station gave away the dolls to local children.

Backus Ford offered to knock $500 off the cost of a new car in exchange for a new Cabbage Patch Kid (with papers), which would be then given to charity.

On December 23, Syracuse's "last" Cabbage Patch Kid was given away.

Named Sandy Wally, the brown hair, blue-eyed doll was part of a WSYR radio giveaway which had raised $5,000 for the Salvation Army.

She arrived at the radio station's Clinton Square studio in an armored car and was escorted into the building by Santa and armed, off-duty sheriffs.

"We aren't taking chances," said the station's possibly over-protective promotional director.

By New Year's Day, Coleco had sold more than three million Cabbage Doll Kids. The company's strategy of slow releasing dolls meant that sales would be high throughout 1984. The dolls, plus accessories like clothes, strollers, as well as, bikes, lunchboxes and cereal, generated $2 million that year.

The Cabbage Patch Kid would be followed by other Christmas must-have fad toys like Transformers, Tickle Me Elmo and Furbys.

1898: Was this the slowest chase in Syracuse history?1829: Sam Patch, America's first daredevil, meets a sad, violent end in Rochester

This feature is a part of CNY Nostalgia, a section on syracuse.com. Send your ideas and curiosities to Johnathan Croyle: Email | 315-427-3958.

If you purchase a product or register for an account through a link on our site, we may receive compensation. By using this site, you consent to our User Agreement and agree that your clicks, interactions, and personal information may be collected, recorded, and/or stored by us and social media and other third-party partners in accordance with our Privacy Policy.