"To pick yourself up and have that passion a second time.... It's a lot harder."
Viselman has since hired 12 employees, most of whom work on a contract basis. Originally, he planned to license the toys out to a manufacturer, but, he says, "I did not get the deal that I wanted when I wanted it." Consequently, he is producing Pet Hospital on his own at a plant in the Far East. In so doing, the risks are greater -- among them, inventory accumulation if the products don't sell. But the potential rewards are also greater. As the manufacturer, Kenn Viselman presents ... can garner significantly more than what a typical licensor would (some estimates suggest that Viselman's take could be as much as 30% of what the toys sell for at retail). Furthermore, Viselman answers to no one and maintains total control of the product's rollout.
The obvious tradeoff is that without investment money, it's going to be harder to make the kinds of splashes he so enjoyed in the past. For example, this is the first time he has showcased a major product that, for now at least, does not have a broadcast component to it. (Viselman says he does have plans for an animated children's series.) Keeping his spending under control is a fact of life that he seems to have accepted. "I'm probably going to have to go through another couple of years," he says, "until we get our business to the place where I can promote the same way and do the same kind of things."
This past Christmas season, he managed to get Li'l Pet Hospital onto the right shelves. In December, Viselman was reluctant to make any grand pronouncements about how the product would sell over the all-important holiday season: "It's just a matter of, is the grass-roots swell going to happen fast enough for the retail community to want to continue to promote it and support it." After Christmas, he declined to release any sales figures, although it's clear the animals didn't cause a Teletubbies-like sensation. Still, he professes to be "delighted" with the product's performance, suggesting that the warm response to Li'l Pet Hospital is enough to encourage him to speed up his plans for spinoff ideas.
They're like my kids
On a Thursday morning in mid-January, Viselman comes bounding through the front doors of the flagship Toys "R" Us in Times Square. He dashes by a greeter in costume, who is bellowing, "Welcome to the center of the toy universe!" He eyes a sign announcing an upcoming signing for Viselman's new book, I Love You Bunches!, which he is publishing himself and is in the midst of rolling out. And then he heads for "Animal Alley" -- "This is the most profitable place in Toys "R" Us," he crows -- and finds the Li'l Pet Hospital display. "Look," he says, "you can see that it's really out of stock. There is only one veterinary kit left in the whole store."
He's done the toy store stroll many times before, always scanning quickly to see how his products look. Today, as he stops for a moment by the Thomas the Tank Engine section, his eyes glaze with a slightly wistful look. "Here's all my Thomas stuff," he says, glancing around the space. "On a Saturday, this area is bedlam. If you are a three- or four-year-old boy, Thomas rules!"
Several weeks later, Viselman visits the FAO Schwarz in Manhattan for an I Love You Bunches! book signing. The book, which is about a monkey family, is designed to allow a child to hear the phrase "I love you bunches!" uttered repeatedly by a loved one. A little like an emperor on a throne, Viselman takes a seat in one of his favorite spots on earth: at the top of the escalator at FAO Schwarz. The store this day is hopping, and Viselman is waving to the sea of parkas, sneakers, and blue jeans that passes by. When Scott Stabile, one of the book's editors, begins reading, at least 20 kids start screaming "I love you bunches!" Viselman turns to the children, claps his hands to his ears, and announces, "Ohhh, that was loud! I think they heard you in Chicago!"
Each time he signs a book, Viselman gives out a bag of gourmet jelly beans and joshes with his new fans. To a mother of twins: "Is this their birthday or do you just love them bunches?" "We love them bunches," she dutifully replies. To six-year-old Victor, from Russia: "Did you swim all the way from Russia, or did you take an airplane?" To three-year-old Libby, who is holding the hand of younger brother Ridley: "Is Ridley your husband? Are you married?" "He's my little brother," she says, eyes widening. To a child sucking on a lollipop, "Come to a reading. It's fun. You get to yell a lot! Do your parents let you yell and scream at home?"
"It's taken me so long to get to the place where I do have this legend."
Coming up the escalator, a mother points to Viselman and says, "Look, this is the man who made the book. How cool is that!"
And yet, being in a toy store clearly takes an emotional toll on Viselman these days. It's not easy for him to come face-to-face with Teletubbies and Tank Engines and Eloise. "I'm thrilled on some levels because it feels like my legacy," he acknowledges. "I feel like Gypsy Rose Lee's mother -- because they are like my kids. I brought them up and I got them known, and I did all that work. But on the personal and emotional side, the separation is really difficult."
He is emotional too about the prospects of starting over. "Doing it the first time is hard enough," he sighs. "But you're too naive to know better. You kind of have this immunity. You kind of have this force field around you, the passion force field. Everything bounces off of you -- it's like Wonder Woman and her bracelets. But to pick yourself up and have that passion and that drive and that commitment to do it a second time.... It's a lot harder."
But then he thinks about Blake and Krystle, Jaclyn Smith and Wonder Woman, and he reminds himself of all the potential that lies ahead -- the books, the TV possibilities, the licensing shows, the toy fairs, the deals yet to be made. "It's taken me so long to get to the place where I do have this legend," he says with a sigh. "I don't want it broken."
Krystle, open up that safe.
Gay Jervey is a freelance writer living in New York City.
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