NEWS REVUE SPECIAL
The Prince of Plush or Ty's Tribulations or Beanie Baby Blues
“Biltmore Resort Adrift after Latest Pool Plans” (Noozhawk)
Montecito Biltmore proposal is in the pits after Santa Barbara’s Architectural Review Boards says nay.
The Santa Barbara News-Press published my column about Ty Warner in June 2022.
A biography of Ty Warner by Zac Bissonnette appeared on bookshelves six years ago though I do not recall The Great Beanie Baby Bubble being discussed widely in Montecito despite Ty’s presence there. (The national attention span has generally narrowed from books to squibs, bytes and blurbs posted on anti-social media.)
When I read Bissonnette’s volume in 2016, I believed the material therein provided the basis for a meaty newspaper column. This was due to insightful anecdotes with reveals into Ty’s character.
Alas, I did not have a column at that time.
But I have one now. And Ty’s antics, keeping the Biltmore shut tight to the detriment of the community, plus being a defendant at Santa Barbara Superior Court in a labor dispute with over 300 discarded Biltmore employees plus being sued by his ex-live-in-partner of several decades…?
Seems enough cause to revisit this bio, put Ty on the chaise lounge with a view to better understanding his reclusive and eccentric nature.
So, for those who never heard of this biography nor have time to read a book, here’s what you need to know from an author who spent two years intensely researching the man Chicago magazine described as hidden “behind an impenetrable wall of plush.” (Plush is the toy industry word for stuffed animals.)
First off, Ty has a penchant, historically, for litigation. At the ripened age of 77 this has not appeared to have changed, leading one to believe he may actually enjoy a swirl of lawyers and motions around him as his entertainment of choice.
That said, please understand that we Americans reside in a highly litigious culture (lobbied heavily by lawyers) in which predators seek to sue people with deep pockets. (This is a national sickness that clogs the courts and badly deserves remedy.)
Decades ago, I had a taste of this kind of litigation when I was implicated in a lawsuit against Barnum & Bailey Ringling Brothers Combined Circuses over private-sector intelligence I conducted for that entertainment company.
To his credit, circus owner Kenneth Feld had an ironclad rule: Never cave to a lawsuit; always fight until it is no longer fight-able.
Why?
Look, Ken Feld employed lion tamers and acrobats. Potential lawsuits were everywhere!
If you give in and settle, it is a signal to everyone everywhere to file a lawsuit for any frivolous reason.
Feld quite rightly vigorously defended any case filed against him.
For sure, paying defense counsel cost his company a lot of money. But the message he conveyed to everyone else thinking of launching a lawsuit against him was clear: Do not expect an easy rollover settlement because, at whatever the cost, we will fight you as long we can (and the way our judicial system operates, think Bleak House by Charles Dickens). You may win in the end (after about eight years) if your case has merit, but you will have to work it, prove it and live with it all that time; and the stress of this, if you fixate upon your victimhood, will in the long-term be detrimental to your physical and mental well being.
The Ken Felds and Ty Warners of the world are accustomed to litigation; they either don’t give it a thought or, as may be the case with Ty, enjoy the drama. And guess what? For them, legal expenses are a tax write-off.
Okay, enough of a rant, let’s revert to Ty’s psyche, according to Bissonnette’s bio of him.
As a child, Ty is reported to have felt emotionally abandoned.
“I need to be taken care of like a five-year-old boy,” he told the gal, Faith McGowan, with whom he was having a relationship at the time. Then, years later when asked, during community service as part of his tax evasion sentencing, “How did you come up with the idea of Beanie Babies,” Ty replied, “I tried to think like a kid.”
So, in Ty have may have Nietzsche’s eternal child. Which in a way is cool, no?
Ty is said to be rather vain and has always striven to remain physically young, perhaps to remain a child: Facelifts and “black sheep embryo injections,” add sculptured eyebrows and hair coloring. These were Ty’s tactics—along with fur coats and top hats—from long ago, even before he became fabulously wealthy. Not quite Michael Jackson but he may have an addiction to plastic surgery. (Jeez, maybe he moved to Montecito to blend in…).
Furthering this insight along, Ty’s favorite movie is reputedly based on Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray, about a man who never ages.
Ty was fired by stuffed animal manufacturer Dakin after many years as a highly successful salesman (he had added his own creations to those he was peddling for Dakin, a definite non-no). Then, after striking out on his own to attemp several different gift product lines, including musical boxes, a vision outside his window late one night when he could not sleep compelled him to return to plush, even though that industry had entered a steep decline.
Ty’s mission: To produce prime plush and become wealthy.
Ty’s defining characteristics, according to the author: “Creativity, ruthlessness… and an aptitude for persuasion.”
Ty’s secret to success: “Low prices and obsessive attention to quality,” in addition to his innate ability as a marketeer/salesman. This led to $5 and $10 Beanie Babies.
Interestingly, for Ty it is always about the eyes: Stuffed animals must have mesmerizing eyes and always be positioned on shelves to make eye contact with buyers. Add Ty’s obsession with lighting, with getting it just right. Because Ty is the perfectionist’s perfectionist: Every toy (in the early days) had to be trimmed and brushed by hand.
Ty’s mother was reportedly diagnosed paranoid-schizophrenic. Maybe a genetic explanation exists as to why—according to Bissonnette’s bio—Ty bugged the office of Sharon Altier, his general manager.
A former employee of Ty told Bissonnette, “Mental health isn’t his strong suit.”
But let’s face it, creative genius and mental issues are practically twins—and if you don’t believe me, read about Brian Wilson of The Beach Boys.
Ty is said to have an obsessive dislike of overweight people and the large portions served in restaurants, which, to his thinking, create a culture of over-eating and obesity. (No question, our culture of over-eating renders many Americans inactive, lazy and overweight.)
Ty, according to the bio, strives to control and needle those closest to him, yet he becomes codependent on persons with whom he is in a relationship to the point of stalking those who choose to break away.
At a time (mid 1990s) when Ty stashed $100 million in European banks as a hedge against potential judgements should his new hotel ventures fail, he reneged on an offer to build a $100,000 house for his sister Joy (she told Bissonnette).
It seems odd to me (if true) that Ty never met any of Joy’s seven children (as of 2016) and would not help pay for her hip replacement surgery. Joy claims that their dad, Hal, molested her from the age of six. All this seems very sad, stemming from a difficult family dynamic growing up.
Should Ty be condemned, pitied—or applauded for surviving childhood trauma?
It was said, by Ty’s counsel in a memorandum before sentencing for tax evasion (in 2014), that Warner has never done any estate planning. If this has not changed, Joy will be sole heir to his multi-billion-dollar fortune.
When Ty toured Joy around his Channel Drive estate while it was being built, “He led her into the formal dining room,” writes Bissonnette, “with seating for at least 40 people.
“‘This is where we eat when we have company,’ Ty explained.
“‘Who would you have over?’ Joy asked.
“He was quiet. Then: ‘Nobody,’ he said coldly.”
Very sad, speaks volumes. Kind of like Ernest Hemingway’s shortest story: “For sale, baby shoes, never worn.”
Good grief.
