THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, March 9, 1995 TAG: 9503090040
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: By DEBRA GORDON, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 154 lines
THEY SIT ON THE coffee table between Nancy Reichert and a guest, just sitting there, as rocks tend to do.
But as you talk, your eyes begin straying from Nancy's face to these walnut-size hunks of hard clay. And then your hand reaches out to stroke the grey one. And before you know it, you're picking them up, sliding their coolness around in your hand, arranging the tiny hat on top of the black one. You bounce them between your hands, balance one on the tip of a finger, protectively squeeze one tightly in your closed fist.
And then you realize - these are stones. Rocks. You are sitting here in the living room of this house in suburban Virginia Beach playing with rocks.
And that's when Nancy and Tony Reichert smile. Because now they've got you.
They call them Dream Stones - Slate, Coal, Granite and Sandy. Four rocks created from the mind of Tony and the alchemy of modeling clay and nontoxic latex paint.
For children, including the Reichert's 4- and 6-year-olds, they are magical rocks. Rocks that, when slipped under their pillows at night, lead them on great adventures.
But for Tony and Nancy, they are the dream incarnate. The get-rich-quick, 15-minutes-of-fame, build-it-in-your-garage-and-it-will-sell kind of American dream.
There's just one problem. Last year, more than 5,000 people had the same dream. And only a handful ever saw it reach reality.
It all started two years ago on a muggy summer evening in the Reicherts' cul-de-sac. The kids were out playing, riding their bikes, throwing a ball. All except one. He was bored, he told Tony. So Tony reached down, picked up a pebble from the gutter and handed it to the boy. This stone, he said, is magic. Put it under your pillow and tonight you will have adventure dreams.
It didn't take long for the neighborhood moms to start calling. ``What are all these rocks doing in my kid's bed?'' they asked.
Soon, the kids were drawing faces on their rocks, personalizing them with crayon and watercolors.
And Tony knew he was on to something.
He began studying rocks at the library. Experimenting with beads, going rock shopping. And in the interim, he wrote a children's book about the Dream Stones, about a child who can't dream.
The Reicherts are not writers. They are not even professional inventors. They are a working-class couple who own a small commercial painting company and who spend their nights painting buildings.
But they can read. And so they read up on publishing. They began sending the book out to dozens of publishers. Each time the answer came back: you need an agent. So they'd send it to agents, who asked: who's your publisher?
They sent it to Oprah Winfrey, to Montel Williams. And heard nothing.
Then they thought, if they just had a gimmick to go with the book - a toy - maybe they could get someone interested.
A little clay, a few plastic eyes and voila! The Dream Stones were born.
Then for two years, the Reicherts learned: How to make a hunk of clay look like a rock with personality. How to write a query letter to a toy manufacturer. How to leave a hundred messages with a vice president for research and development without sounding too desperate.
But they still couldn't get their foot in the door.
Until they heard about the Toy Fair.
Exploding toilets. That's what's selling at the 92nd annual American International Toy Fair in New York City this third week in February.
Shove green ``scuzzies'' into the toy toilet with the smiley eyes and watch to see if it blows.
With competition like that, what chance do a handful of rocks have?
But Nancy and Tony have ridden eight hours on the train up from Newport News, with $500 from a friend stuffed into Tony's wallet.
For this is the big time, where thousands of wanna-be toy inventors come to hark their wares. Where a shed-size exhibition space goes for $1,900 - if you booked it a year ago.
With 20,000 buyers, this show is so big that it's spread across three convention halls. So professional that they don't even allow kids. This is business, not play - an $18.7 billion business.
And into this mayhem stroll the Reicherts. He in jeans and a button-down cotton shirt and tie. She in a plaid skirt and sweater. They're awed just by the $13 limo ride in from the airport. Wait until they see the guys in RoboCop costumes sneaking up on the tourists outside the Toy Fair.
The Reicherts don't have a booth. Heck, they didn't even know they were coming until a week ago. But they have something almost as good - they have an appointment.
And it's with one of the big guns - Tom Dusenberry from Parker Brothers.
Dusenberry, however, is looking for games. But while he can't give them a contract, he can give them something almost as good. Names. Five names of other toy company reps here at the Toy Fair.
``Use my name,'' he says.
His name gets them in to see a vice president at Kenner Products, makers of those miniature doll houses known as Pocket Pollies.
And Kenner is interested. A five-minute meeting turns into an hour and a half. By the end of it, Tony and Nancy have a non-disclosure contract in hand. It means Kenner will present the idea to its product development team, while promising not to steal it for their own use.
This was Thursday. A week from Friday, said the Kenner rep, he'd present the Dream Stones to his product development board.
It's Tuesday, three days since the Reicherts returned from New York. And Tony is wired. This weekend, he bought five 1,000-piece jigsaw puzzles to keep his hands and mind occupied. To stop thinking about the Federal Express package he had sent to Kenner with the four - the only four - Dream Stones.
As he talks to a visitor, he paces, disappears into the bedroom-turned-office, paces some more and nearly jumps into the air with his nervousness.
He's the creative one.
Nancy, the practical one, is sitting calmly in her chair, smoking a cigarette, talking about how the couple plans to finance their dream.
They've sold the big-screen TV that dominates their living room. Turned down lucrative painting jobs while they were in New York. And found an investor.
Who's already tapped out.
Mike Russell, manager at Hooters restaurant in Norfolk, knows the couple from the painting they've done in the restaurant. One day, as Tony was refinishing the floors, he casually told Russell about the Dream Stones. Russell, who has no children of his own, was intrigued.
Intrigued enough to empty his savings account and turn the $500 over to the Reicherts for their New York trip.
``It's a great idea. The Dream Stones can take you off to that dream world where you can work out your problems,'' Russell says.
Would he invest more?
``Sure, if I get more money, yeah. To try and get it off the ground. It's a concept before its time.''
Especially for Kenner, which decides it's more of a gift idea than a toy and crushes the Dream Stones dream.
Nancy and Tony are devastated. After she hangs up the phone, Nancy begins crying.
``We just thought that if the senior vice president accepts it, and he was so excited about it, we thought we wouldn't be turned down,'' she says.
But by the time the second toy company, the Ohio Arts Co., makers of Etch A Sketch, rejects their idea, calling it a novelty, not a toy, the Reicherts are more philosophical.
After all, notes Nancy, ``the guy that did the Pound Puppies knocked on 10 doors before someone picked them up.''
And so they've packed up the four rocks for another trip, this time to
the Ertl Co., in Iowa, makers of Animaniacs.
``I know it's a good idea. And someone out there will pick it up.'' ILLUSTRATION: BILL TIERNAN/Staff color photos
Nancy and Tony Reichert developed the toy they call Dream Stones.
They are still looking for a manufacturer to market their
brainchild.
The Dream Stones - actually made from clay - have been named,
clockwise from top, Slate, Sandy, Coal and Granite.
The Reicherts' daughter, Jamie Leigh, 4, rests on Dream Stone
pillows that here parents hope to market in conjunction with the
toys made of clay.
by CNB