Nutty gang travels to Annapolis for Peanut Pals gathering

The radiant yellow face of Mr. Peanut greets visitors outside the otherwise stately and stately historic Governor Calvert House.

“He’s cool, he’s handsome, he’s, dare I say, sexy?” he said Scott Schmitz, president of the Peanut Pals Club, a group that advocates for the Planters peanut monocle mascot, at their annual meeting in Annapolis this past weekend.

By their own admission, these are the legume’s most “die hard” fans; if it’s related to Mr. Peanut, they either have it or want it. Collectors, most of them gray-haired retirees from across the country, sat at tables showing off their wares — Mr. Peanut tote bags, paint sets, even an 80-year-old chocolate bar wrapper that’s been preserved and valued at $1,000.

Tony Scola’s first experience with Mr. Peanut wasn’t a good one. He was a baby on the Atlantic City Boardwalk when a costumed Mr. Peanut showed up.

“He stuck his face in the stroller and I went absolutely crazy. I just had a meltdown. I started crying,” he said. “So when I was a kid, my siblings, if they wanted to pick on me, they’d say, ‘Mr. Peanut’s coming to get you.’ And I’d just have another meltdown.”

But now the retired radiologist from outside Philadelphia, who is also accompanied by his wife, Lenore, is a Mr. Peanut enthusiast who serves as a kind of researcher and historian for the group. Of his large collection, Scola’s favorite item is not particularly flashy.

“It’s actually a label that would have been on a can of oil. But they’re rare because most of them are lithographed directly onto the can. You don’t really see the paper label on its own.”

**“I feel like this was done as a mock-up by the print shop to see if people approved the graphics before it went into mass production. So this is basically a prototype,” Scola said.** Scola holds a plain red and blue square of paper that reads, “Planters Hi Hat Peanut Oil, the ultimate vegetable oil for cooking and salads.” Mr. Peanut poses happily below.

Everyone has a different reason for getting involved with the character with the top hat and glasses. For Scola, you could say he started collecting as a way to overcome his fears.

“Fast forward about 40 years… My brother was a psychiatrist, and he sent me a little Mr. Peanut figurine and he said, ‘May your fears become your strength.’ And I said, ‘Oh, that’s a good life,’” Scola said.

The Scolas, like many of the attendees, are avid antique dealers. And many of them said that at some point, amidst the flea markets and estate sales, there is an item or character that stands out and becomes your passion.

Many of the pieces, including this patriotic book, were aimed at children.

The anthropomorphized peanut was created in 1916 by a young schoolboy as part of a contest. A Pennsylvania commercial artist then added the dandy top hat, walking stick, and monocle.

There’s so much memorabilia, partly because Schmitz, the club’s president, says Planters was one of the first to advertise to children.

“Just like McDonald’s, you walk in, you can buy some peanuts, but you can also buy a plastic knife for a spoon set for the kids. You can buy little Mr. Peanut mugs and banks for 10 cents,” Schmitz said.

He says at one point there were 69 Planters peanut shops on Main Streets across the country.

The glory days of Mr. Peanut and his illustrious fans may be waving out the rear-view window. Planters has recently divested itself of much of the physical Mr. Peanut merchandise that is so valuable to collectors, in favor of digital advertising.

“It slows down the collecting process a little bit, because it’s not on the market as much as it was when I started collecting in the ’80s and ’90s,” said Schmitz, who noted that younger people aren’t really jumping on the bandwagon.

As for the current Pals, they’re still going strong. Schmitz said the group has reunions planned for the next three years. In the meantime, fans have plenty to keep them busy. After all, there’s one thing the Peanut Pals have never found: a Mr. Peanut aluminum lunchbox.