Mold-A-Rama

I was vaguely familiar with the concept of the Mold-A-Rama machine, but I never encountered one in person until our recent trip to Florida. We stopped by the Tampa Electric Manatee Viewing Center hoping to see loads of manatees and we basically saw one—from above and far away. But they did have a gift shop, a squished penny machine and two Mold-A-Rama machines.

Mold-A-Rama is the brand name of a souvenir vending machine that makes blow-molded plastic figurines. They debuted in 1962 at the Seattle World's Fair and were found en masse at the 1964/65 New York World's Fair. Mold-A-Rama machines were basically the 3D printers of their day, and the inventor licensed the technology to Chicago’s Automatic Retailers of America (ARA). By 1971, ARA had sold the machines to independent operators and two remain today: Mold-A-Rama near Chicago and Mold-A-Matic near Tampa. According to Wikipedia, there were still 124 machines in operation across eight states as of November 2015.

The manatee machine was out of order, but a sign said that pre-made figures were available to purchase in the gift shop. The dolphin machine, however, was working and I put in two dollars and an instant obsession was born. I bought the last Mold-A-Rama manatee that the gift shop had in stock, and it's lumpy and has a hole in its face, but I was thrilled to instantly double my collection.

Fast-forward a few hours and we arrive at Gatorland in Kissimmee to find that they also have two Mold-A-Rama machines: a white alligator and a green double figure of a man wrestling an alligator (found outside of the ring where you can watch its real-life inspiration). Of course I got both, again doubling my collection which rests (for now) at four figures for a grand total of $9 (they're $2 cash, or $2.50 if you pay with a credit card).

I've been collecting floaty pens and squished pennies ever since I can remember, but the Mold-A-Rama fits seamlessly into my souvenir aesthetic—cheap, vintage and whimsical. The figurines are printed with their locations, which is a nice touch, and even though you do zero work—there isn't even a button to push—they still feel somehow personal and unique. It was fun to watch them emerge from the molds, smell their waxy scent and pluck them from the machine. Vintage marvels like the Mold-A-Rama are totally my speed—I don't need fancy graphics or technology to get a thrill—and the chance that I might get a third-degree burn from some leftover molten plastic as I impatiently grab my souvenir is more than enough excitement for me.