Columnist Susan Snyder: Spinning a yarn about famous doll

Tuesday, April 2, 2002 | 8:19 a.m.

Raggedy Ann finally took her spot alongside Barbie in the National Toy Hall of Fame in Oregon last week.

Think they're sniping at each other?

"You're a chicken-legged, plastic-brained strumpet."

"Yeah? Well, you're a sappy-sacked frump with no waist."

Girls, girls. Please.

Raggedy Ann, which Johnny Gruelle created in 1915 for his sick daughter, was inducted after an extensive letter-writing campaign by her fans. The floppy cloth doll with red-yarn hair and "I love you" heart stamped on her chest had been rejected four times by the hall's selection panel.

So I went looking for the hall's newest old toy Friday. I hit a couple of discount department stores and that big-box toy store that can't spell.

There were dolls with talking cats, scooters, inline skates, swings, cowboy hats and "26 fashion pieces and accessories."

There were dolls that cry, coo, burp, sniffle, eat, drink, sleep, sing and "go potty." (Why in the world would you want ...)

There were baby dolls wearing newborn clothes and banana peels. There were dolls that looked like budding street-gang members or homely, big-eyed, unemployed rock singers.

There were dolls made to look like Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen. (Thankfully they don't talk.)

But there was no Raggedy Ann.

"Sometimes you'll see them show up in a discount store," said Cynthia Lindenberg, owner of Cindy's Dolls on West Charleston Boulevard in Las Vegas.

Lindenberg's store is one that carries designer baby dolls and collectible dolls -- dolls that can retail for more than $600. But the beloved rag doll still commands attention.

Lindenberg says she has been trying to find out what company is making the authentic Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls so she can stock them.

"I've had customers ask me for Raggedy Ann," she said. "There are people who do the rag-doll style with porcelain faces. But it's not the same."

Through the miracle -- or curse, depending on the day or topic -- of e-mail my mother, a redhead, said she never wanted a Raggedy Ann because of the clown-like hair.

When she grew up, Raggedy Ann grew on her. She tried to buy one for me, but none could be found in our small Indiana town. Then she spotted a newspaper ad for "handmade Raggedy Ann dolls."

She called Dad at his office, gave him the address (that took him more than an hour to find) and told him to buy one on his way home.

"It looked good until I turned it over and saw the face," Mom wrote. "The lady was no artist -- ugliest face on that doll. Wanton, pale, everything but cross-eyed."

We managed to find a "real" one later, along with her brother, Raggedy Andy, and a book or two about the pair.

"Raggedy Ann was my favorite doll growing up. I loved the stories, too," Lindenberg said. "When I felt bad, I'd look at her little heart that said, 'I love you.' "

Lindenberg loved Raggedy nearly to death. Her mother replaced the doll's face, then finally broke down and bought a second one after the first all but disintegrated. Lindenberg still has that second Raggedy.

"I just loved her," she said. "Every Christmas I'd tell her, 'Don't you worry. You're still my favorite.' "