In last week’s Collecting Jewish History column, I discussed Ruth Handler and her invention of Barbie, arguably the “Grandmother (or, should I say, Bubby?) of all Jewish Toys.” This week I continue with a discussion of six additional popular toys that were created by Jewish inventors.
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George Lerner (Mr. Potato Head, 1952)
George Lerner (1922-1995) was born into a Jewish family in Brooklyn that had emigrated from Eastern Europe during the late 19th or early 20th century as part of the wave of Jewish immigrants who left the Russian Empire and Galicia in search of economic opportunity and escape from systemic antisemitism. The Brooklyn of his childhood was densely populated with Jewish immigrants, and the neighborhoods were alive with Yiddish language, Jewish cultural institutions, small family businesses, and social networks that helped new arrivals survive and adapt. It was within this environment that he developed an early creativity born of resourcefulness and the Great Depression, which coincided with his formative years, shaped his perception of scarcity and imaginative play. As a child, he would fashion faces and characters out of vegetables and scraps, activities that prefigured his later invention of Mr. Potato Head, and these formative experiences combined necessity, play, and imagination, elements that would define his approach to toy design throughout his life.
In 1949, Lerner developed the concept of Mr. Potato Head, a toy that initially consisted of plastic facial features intended to be attached to real vegetables. The toy was revolutionary for its interactive and imaginative nature, allowing children to rearrange eyes, noses, and mouths to create countless facial expressions and, when Hasbro acquired the rights, the toy was redesigned to include a hollow plastic “potato” body, making it safer and more durable. Released in 1952, Mr. Potato Head quickly became a cultural phenomenon, gaining prominence as the first toy ever advertised directly to children on television. Its popularity was not merely due to novelty, but also to the encouragement of creative agency; children could exercise artistic freedom, design characters, and experiment with humor in ways that other toys of the period did not permit. The toy’s ongoing iterations, including themed sets and movie adaptations decades later, demonstrate the enduring influence of Lerner’s creation on American play culture.
Lerner’s Jewish identity is a critical lens through which to understand his work, though the historical record offers only partial details about his personal religious practice. He was raised in a culturally Jewish household, a typical pattern for American Jews of his socio-economic class in Brooklyn at the time. Scholars of Jewish-American creativity suggest that such an upbringing would have imbued Lerner with an acute sense of ethical responsibility, narrative play, and adaptability, all traits that are evident in the design philosophy behind Mr. Potato Head. The toy’s emphasis on imaginative play, transformation, and humor resonates with a broader Jewish cultural aesthetic that values reinterpretation, flexibility, and ingenuity in the face of constraints. Mr. Potato Head’s very concept – taking something as mundane (and inexpensive) as a potato and transforming it into a vehicle for storytelling and expression – may be read as emblematic of the Jewish immigrant approach to adaptation and resilience.
The toy’s popularity extended internationally, including to Israel, where it was marketed after being redesigned for durability. Israeli children embraced “Mar Tapuach Adama” both as a reflection of American innovation and as a versatile tool for play, although the American branding and media context set it apart from locally produced toys. Its reception demonstrates the universal appeal of creative agency in play while also illustrating the subtle ways in which Jewish immigrant creativity could resonate across Jewish and global audiences alike.
Harry Kislevitz and Patricia Kislevitz (Colorforms, 1952)
Harry Kislevitz (1927-2009) was born in New York City to Jewish parents whose own families had emigrated from Eastern Europe in the late 19th or early 20th centuries, and Patricia Kislevitz (née Rowe) was likewise Jewish by birth. Together, the couple were among the most influential husband-and-wife teams in mid-century American toy innovation. In the early 1950s, they experimented with a new flexible vinyl material that adhered lightly to smooth surfaces, and this experimentation resulted in the creation of Colorforms, introduced commercially in 1952. Unlike toys that relied on mechanical complexity or electronic components, Colorforms emphasized open-ended creativity, as children could arrange, remove, and rearrange colored vinyl shapes on a flat background to create imaginative scenes. The simplicity, portability, and intellectual challenge of the toy contributed to its rapid popularity, particularly in educational settings, and it has endured as a classic tool for fostering imagination and cognitive development.
The Kislevitzes’ Jewish background provides an essential context for understanding their approach to toy design, though, as with Lerner, direct evidence of personal religious observance is limited. Harry and Patricia were both raised in a culturally Jewish household in New York, where Jewish identity was transmitted both socially and ethically, and the toy’s emphasis on non-competitive, creative engagement resonates with Jewish pedagogical traditions, which historically prioritize interpretation, narrative, and problem-solving as educational tools.
Colorforms were introduced in Israel in later decades, where they were particularly embraced in educational settings such as kindergartens and early primary schools, and Israeli educators valued the toy for its durability, versatility, and emphasis on creativity, qualities that were well-suited to classroom environments and aligned with progressive pedagogical methods. In this sense, Colorforms, which was typically sold under its original English name in transliterated Hebrew letters, not only reflected American innovation, but also resonated within a Jewish state eager to cultivate imaginative, self-directed learning among its youth.
The design philosophy of Colorforms may also be read through a Jewish cultural lens. The toy invites players to manipulate, reinterpret, and recombine shapes, echoing the Jewish interpretive tradition of reading texts and reimagining meanings. Critics suggest that the Kislevitzes’ upbringing in Jewish households, combined with the broader cultural emphasis on learning and adaptability among American Jews of their generation, may have contributed to their interest in toys that promoted cognitive flexibility and imaginative engagement.
In addition, Colorforms’ success demonstrates the interplay between Jewish immigrant entrepreneurial skill and innovation. The Kislevitzes were able to recognize the educational and entertainment potential of a new material, refine it into a product suitable for mass production, and navigate the commercial landscape effectively, and this combination of technical insight, business acumen, and cultural sensibility is characteristic of many Jewish inventors and entrepreneurs in mid-century America. The toy’s sustained popularity in both the United States and Israel further illustrates how creativity informed by heritage can transcend national and cultural boundaries while maintaining resonance with specific communities.
Don Levine (G.I. Joe, 1964)
Don Levine (1928-2014) was born in 1933 in New York City to Jewish parents who were themselves children or grandchildren of Eastern European immigrants, and his early life was marked by the social dynamics common to Jewish neighborhoods in mid-20th-century New York: densely populated communities, strong informal social networks, and a keen awareness of both cultural tradition and the precarious position of Jews in broader society. Growing up during the Great Depression and World War II, he was shaped by an era in which Jewish families emphasized education, civic responsibility, and the cultivation of resilience in the face of uncertainty. He later served in the United States Army, an experience that profoundly influenced his professional trajectory and provided firsthand insight into military culture, logistics, and training practices, all of which would inform his approach to toy design.
Levine joined Hasbro in the early 1960s and is widely credited as the conceptual architect of G.I. Joe, released in 1964 as “America’s Movable Fighting Man.” He recognized a market gap: while boys’ toys existed, there were no articulated figures that allowed children to enact realistic military play and, by intentionally avoiding the term “doll” and coining the term “action figure,” he created a new genre, transforming both toy marketing and perceptions of masculinity in play. G.I. Joe’s success lay in its realism, range of accessories, and emphasis on imaginative, scenario-based play, and the figure quickly became a cultural touchstone, generating multiple variations, storylines, and spin-offs. The toy’s enduring popularity reflects both the quality of Levine’s vision and its resonance with broader American narratives of heroism, national service, and adventure.
Levine’s Jewish background offers a critical lens for understanding his professional creativity, though the historical record does not permit certainty regarding his personal religious observance. Critics suggest that the toy’s military themes may reflect the historical consciousness of American Jews whose families had suffered persecution abroad: the creation of empowered figures engaged in structured, strategic play could be read as a symbolic reversal of vulnerability. Levine’s work embodies a uniquely American Jewish negotiation between ethnic identity, historical memory, and mainstream cultural participation.
In Israel, G.I. Joe – transliterated as “Ji. Ai. Ju” and which later was given the thematic Hebrew title Koach HaMachatz (literally “The Strike Force”) – was introduced in later decades, both as a toy and as a collectible item. The reception was multifaceted: the toy was admired for its design and realism but occasionally viewed with ambivalence due to the omnipresence of real military service in Israeli life; nonetheless, Israeli children engaged with the figures creatively, adapting them to local play contexts. The toy’s ability to resonate internationally while retaining its specifically American military narrative underscores the intersection of cultural specificity and universal appeal, a duality that Levine may have appreciated given his bicultural sensibilities as a Jewish-American entrepreneur.
Levine’s contribution exemplifies a broader pattern in American Jewish innovation: the ability to combine technical knowledge, market awareness, and ethical-cultural perspective, and his work demonstrates how Jewish-American inventors of his generation transformed personal experience and cultural heritage into products that shaped national and international childhoods. The interpretive lens of Jewish identity does not suggest that G.I. Joe was intended as a Jewish symbol; rather, critics argue that Levine’s upbringing and historical consciousness may have subtly influenced his conceptual approach to play, agency, and representation.
William Gruber (View-Master, 1939)
William Gruber (1903-1965) was born in Vienna, Austria, to a Jewish family situated within the rich cultural and intellectual life of early 20th-century Central Europe. He trained as a musician and a precision instrument maker, demonstrating an early capacity for technical ingenuity and aesthetic sensibility but, as a Jew in Austria, his life became increasingly precarious during the rise of Nazism. The intensifying antisemitic policies of the 1930s forced him, like many Central European Jews, to seek refuge abroad, and he eventually emigrated to the United States, bringing with him a combination of technical skill, artistic training, and a profound awareness of the fragility of life and culture under threat. These formative experiences informed both his inventive sensibility and his approach to technology, culminating in the co-invention in 1939 of the View-Master, a stereoscopic viewer that allowed users to see three-dimensional images on circular reels.
Initially intended as a novelty for tourism, the device quickly expanded into educational and entertainment applications, and its appeal lay in its ability to combine precision engineering with imaginative engagement: children and adults could view natural landscapes, historical sites, and later fictional scenes in immersive detail. The toy quickly became a staple in classrooms and homes, both in the United States and abroad, and its continued iterations through the 20th century demonstrate its enduring impact on visual learning and recreational play.
Gruber’s Jewish background is inseparable from his life story though, again, as so many of our subjects here, direct documentation of religious practice is limited. Scholars suggest that, as a Central European Jew of his generation, Gruber was likely shaped by a cultural Judaism that valued education, ethical responsibility, and aesthetic achievement over strict ritual observance, and it is plausible that he was familiar with synagogue life and Jewish communal networks in Vienna and that these experiences informed his commitment to precision, structure, and didactic innovation in his inventions. His refugee status underscores the intersection of Jewish identity and creativity; displaced Jewish intellectuals and artisans often brought European technical expertise to the United States, producing innovations that blended old-world craftsmanship with new-world entrepreneurial opportunity.
The View-Master was later marketed in Israel, where it was adopted both as a toy and as an educational tool. Israeli educators valued its immersive qualities for teaching geography, history, and science, especially in the formative decades of the state when resources were limited and innovative methods were prized. For Israeli children, the View-Master (its name was transliterated using Hebrew letters) offered a window onto a world that was both expansive and visually accessible, reinforcing its role as a bridge between play and learning.
Abe Bookman (Magic 8 Ball, 1950)
Abe Bookman (1898-1993) was a Jewish entrepreneur based in Chicago operating in the postwar period when American Jews played a prominent role in the novelty and toy industries, and he owned Alabe Crafts, the company that commercialized the Magic 8 Ball around 1950. The toy evolved from earlier fortune-telling devices, but Bookman refined the concept into a mass-market product consisting of a liquid-filled sphere containing a floating 20-sided die with printed answers. The Magic 8 Ball’s enduring appeal rests on its combination of humor, chance, and ritualized ambiguity; users ask a question, shake the sphere, and receive an answer that is deliberately playful and uncertain. This inventive simplicity, alongside its durability and accessibility, contributed to the toy’s long-lasting popularity in both domestic and international markets.
Bookman’s Jewish heritage is firmly documented though, as with the other inventors discussed, direct evidence of ritual observance, synagogue affiliation, or daily practice is lacking. He was part of a mid-century American Jewish commercial ecosystem in Chicago, which included numerous entrepreneurs, wholesalers, and manufacturers of novelties and educational toys, a milieu that valued ingenuity, strategic marketing, and attention to consumer behavior, all traits evident in his development and promotion of the Magic 8 Ball. Critics suggest that the toy’s ironic engagement with divination and uncertainty may resonate with a Jewish cultural sensibility that emphasizes skepticism toward supernatural claims, intellectual playfulness, and ethical deliberation. As such, while not explicitly Jewish in content, the Magic 8 Ball reflects an ethos aligned with Jewish approaches to humor, logic, and mediated authority.
In Israel, the Magic 8 Ball – known as the Kadur 8 Kasunm – was introduced as a novelty item rather than as a core educational toy for children, and its reception was somewhat different than in the United States: Israeli children appreciated the playful unpredictability, but educators often viewed it more as amusement than as a developmental tool. Nonetheless, it became a recognizable icon within Israeli popular culture, particularly among adolescents and young adults who were drawn to its combination of whimsy and interactive engagement.
Bookman’s work, like that of the inventors discussed above, illustrates how Jewish identity can subtly shape creative and entrepreneurial output even when it is not expressed explicitly through religious or national affiliation. The Magic 8 Ball embodies a particular kind of playful logic, inviting users to engage with chance, ambiguity, and decision-making in a controlled environment. Critics suggest that this intellectual orientation, combining curiosity, humor, and ethical neutrality, mirrors long-standing Jewish traditions of debate, interpretation, and critical reasoning, while simultaneously reflecting the commercial acumen nurtured in Jewish-American business networks of the mid-20th century.
Isaac Larian (Bratz, 2001)
Isaac Larian (1954- ) was born in Kashan in the Isfahan province of Iran into a Jewish family that was part of the long‑established Iranian Jewish community. His father ran a small textile business, and he began working there from a young age, absorbing a strong work ethic that would later shape his entrepreneurial career. At age four, his family moved to Tehran, settling in the Narmak neighborhood, where he grew up amid the complexities of Jewish life in a Muslim‑majority society. As a child, he experienced bullying from some peers because of his Jewish identity, an experience that he later recalled as formative in building resilience.
In 1971, at the age of 17, Larian emigrated to the United States with just $750, no knowledge of English, and a determination to forge a better future. He worked as a dishwasher and waiter to support himself, learned English through immersion, and eventually enrolled at Los Angeles Southwest College before transferring to California State University, Los Angeles, where he earned a Bachelor of Science degree in civil engineering in 1978.
After graduating, Larian’s plans to return to Iran were thwarted by the 1979 Iranian Revolution, and he instead entered the business world in America as he and his brother, Fred, began importing consumer electronics, notably becoming a distributor for Nintendo and later licensing “Power Rangers” products. The company was renamed MGA Entertainment in 1998, and in 2001 the subsidiary developed what would become its defining product: the Bratz doll line. Bratz, which includes characters such as Yasmin, Cloe, Jade, and Sasha, quickly became a cultural phenomenon, as the dolls were notable for their fashion‑forward, multicultural design and for appealing to a new generation of young girls whose tastes were evolving beyond the traditional image of the Barbie doll. By the mid‑2000s, Bratz products had sold hundreds of millions of units worldwide and generated annual revenues in the hundreds of millions of dollars, briefly challenging Barbie’s market dominance.
The genesis of Bratz was not a solo invention, but one that emerged from a collaboration between MGA and designers; nevertheless, Larian’s leadership and vision were central to the product’s development and marketing. In interviews and public discussions, Larian explained that he wanted dolls that reflected a broader, more contemporary image of young girls, one that embraced diversity, individuality, and fashion sensibility. What began as a prototype that initially puzzled him was championed within his family, notably by his daughter, and it was refined into a line that became emblematic of early‑21st‑century youth culture. Critics and cultural commentators debated Bratz’s impact; while some praised the dolls for diversity and self‑expression, others criticized their stylized features and fashion choices as overly sexualized for young audiences. Regardless of these debates, the Bratz franchise expanded into spin‑offs, media adaptations, and even a feature film, cementing its significance in the global toy market.
Larian’s Jewish background is a documented part of his biography: born into a Jewish family in Iran, he unambiguously identified as Israeli Jewish in biographical sources about his life and career. Iranian Jews constitute one of the longest‑standing Jewish communities in the diaspora, with roots dating back over 2,500 years, and by the mid‑20th century, many Iranian Jews lived in urban centers such as Tehran, participating in commerce while also maintaining communal and religious traditions. Larian has not been the subject of extensive reporting on his personal ritual practice, but what is clearly documented is his cultural identification as Jewish and his connection to the Iranian Jewish diaspora.
In addition to his business success, Larian’s philanthropic engagement provides some insight into the ways he has connected his success with broader community concerns. He has supported organizations focused on children’s welfare and education, such as Toys for Tots and Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, and he founded MGA Cares to assist children impacted by crises, including providing PPE distribution during the COVID‑19 pandemic. He has also been involved with the Jewish National Fund, from whom he received recognition for efforts in afforestation and community support projects in Israel; such engagement suggests that, while not necessarily a public religious practitioner, he participates in charitable work that intersects with Jewish communal priorities and the welfare of Israel.
The reception of Bratz in Israel reflects the brand’s global reach and cultural integration. Israeli children and families were familiar with fashion dolls like Barbie long before Bratz, but the introduction of Bratz added a modern, diverse alternative that aligned with shifting perceptions of identity and style among youth. In Israel’s multicultural society, dolls that embody a range of ethnic aesthetics resonated with children from varied backgrounds, and Bratz products were sold in Israeli toy stores and became part of the broader array of collectible dolls enjoyed by girls in the early 2000s, contributing to conversations about representation and self‑expression in play.