East Meadow

She stepped outside the ABC studios in New York after the last show, looking for her boyfriend Rootie, the baseball player, the star of their TV show. They had arranged to meet after the finale, but as she looked north, south, east and west, there was no sign of him.

Their late-afternoon daily children’s show had been a phenomenon. The early days of television broadcasting had been a matter of much experimentation, though why some shows caught on, and others sunk into oblivion, there were no definitive answers. She was happy that the show had had its four-year run, and she and Rootie had planned to move to the Bronx, where Rootie was already hired by the Yankees to play ball.

As she stood shivering in the cold, it occurred to her that she had been stood up. Without Rootie to plan her life, she was adrift, abandoned, and very much alone. The other cast members had their own career paths; Big Todd Russell was headed out to Hollywood to see if he could make the Big Time.

She adjusted her outfit: white blouse with a pink, polka-dot skirt, shoes and socks and a bag that matched her skirt. With no coat, she realized that she had better find someplace to warm up. She started walking, soon finding herself at Pennsylvania Station. Not having any other plans, she bought a ticket for the next train that was leaving for Long Island.

Long Island was a land of opportunity, or so it seemed to be at that time. Families were moving into cozy little homes there, each family with its 2.3 children. She headed for Garden City, because she liked the name. She boarded the train, having no clue how her life was going to change.

But when she got there, she was just as confused and alone as she had been in New York. She stopped into a candy store at the station and ordered a Coke. A handsome young truck driver came and sat down beside her. He drove a parcel post truck. He was headed to East Meadow, where he was dropping off a few birthday presents for a little girl who was turning four years old that day.

The little girl was living in the Golden Zone of happiness in the early 1950s. A loving family, plenty of friends and neighbors, she only wanted one thing for her birthday. She had wanted that present since August of the previous year, when her family had bought its first television set, and she fell in love with a hand puppet on one of her favorite television shows.

She hadn’t lacked for toys; she already had several dolls. But this doll was special; her flirty eyes looking off to one side seemed to have an extra sparkle; her deep dimples punctuating her chubby cheeks; and her perpetually smiling mouth that gave her face a look that was at once both sweet and knowing.

The Parcel Post man drove up to the little house on Gerald Avenue. Polka Dotty got off the truck, and walked into the little girl’s heart.

She became the child’s most beloved companion. Manufactured by the Effanbee Doll Company, Polka Dotty’s head was molded vinyl, her body was stuffed and encased in a vinyl cloth. The little girl spent hours tracing the swirls and patterns in Polky’s molded hair, dressing and undressing the doll, until all her original clothes were lost. No matter; Polky was just as enthralled with her little fan.

The “Rootie Kazootie TV Show” went off the air in 1953. Nothing was heard of Big Todd Russell or any of the other actors on the show. Rootie eventually made his way to California, where he tried out as a Dodger in the late 1950’s. But like many other TV toys from the Golden Age, he ended up on Ebay.

Polka Dotty still lives with the little girl. She has a place of honor in a little wicker carriage with her best friend, Robin, a vinyl doll with a little rosebud mouth, and red hair that you could actually comb, who came to live with the little girl and her doll in 1956. Best friends for more than fifty years, they are both rather fragile now. But they are happy to be beloved friends of the little girl, who is not so little anymore.