YOU CAN chalk it up to my contrary nature, if you wish, but when I was standing in the family room at Gary and Ruthe Gobin’s Bedford home, I couldn’t help but think of the old “Saturday Night Live” skits set in the Olympia Greek Diner.
I’m talking about the one in which a customer asks John Belushi — playing an English-impaired, monosyllabic waiter — if he can have a “cheebooga” and a Coke.
“No Coke,” he said. “Pepsi.”
Not at the Gobin household.
Ruthe and Gary Gobin have dedicated a room in their Bedford home to everything Coca Cola. (DAVID LANE/UNION LEADER) |
Within the walls of the Gobin family room, it’s all Coke, all the time. You can tell by the clock on the wall. It’s a Coca-Cola clock.
The clock hangs next to the antique Coca-Cola serving trays that are affixed to the wall (which is covered in Coca-Cola wallpaper) right next to the shelves that hold the shiny red-and-white metal Coca-Cola picnic coolers — there are eight of them upon a first, cursory inspection — and every single one of them, like the carbonated beverage they promote, is The Real Thing.
It’s a surreal thing, this family room.
“What can I say?” Gary smiled. “I got interested in Coca-Cola collectibles and Ruthe and I started picking a few things up in antique shops. The next thing you know, you can’t stop yourself. It’s like being an alcoholic except I’m a Cokeaholic, only this kind of Coke doesn’t get me in trouble.”
It doesn’t get him into trouble unless you count the trouble he and his wife have finding new. . . ummm, make that old . . . Coca-Cola collectibles.
“When we started, we could go into an antique shop and almost always come away with something we didn’t have,” said Ruthe, who pronounces her name with a long E, like RUTH-eee. “Now it’s harder because we have so much.”
How much?
More than you can imagine.
Let’s start with the cornerstone of their collection. It’s a genuine Coca-Cola “Victor” bar that’s exactly like the one you sat at when you got a soda from the fountain — two straws, to share with your sweetie-pie — in the old corner store, circa 1945.
“A company called Vintage Vending in Salem did the restoration,” Ruthe said, “but it’s not a replica. It’s an antique from the ’40s.”
Meanwhile, there must be 400 different kinds of Coca-Cola doo-dads, knick-knacks and bric-a-brac on the shelves behind the bar. There’s the Coke napkin dispenser, the Coke ice bucket, the Coke straw holder, the Coke yo-yos, the Coke pencil sharpener, the Coke stapler and the Coca-Cola stamp dispenser in the shape of a mini-cooler.
Did I mention the beaded Coca-Cola purse?
Did I mention the wall-mounted, diner-style Coca-Cola menu board with the blackboard sitting beneath the forged metal top, complete with the embossed Coca-Cola logo and the reminder that Coke is “Delicious with Food.”
How about the antique metal six-pack holders designed for the trademark 6½-ounce bottles? Or the elegant Tiffany Coca-Cola lamp or, at the other end of the economic spectrum, the classic waxed paper cups, in 16-, 22- and 32-ounce sizes?
And then there are the dolls.
Let’s start with the seven official Coca-Cola Barbie dolls, clad in the haute couture of Coke. Then there are the Madame Alexander Coca-Cola Dolls, collectibles clad as Coca-Cola car hops, complete with poodle skirts and roller skates.
Next come the several Buddy Lee dolls, round-headed icons dressed as soda jerks, which is not to overlook the high-end Franklin Mint Dolls, 14 of them, with their ornate turn-of-the-century garb and their hand-crafted wooden Coca-Cola artifacts.
When you think about it, all of the dolls in the collection could be viewed as a form of art imitating life, since the dolls mirror exactly what Gary and Ruthe Gobin do, which is to collect and display Coca-Cola memorabilia.
By the way, when it comes to the beverage itself, Gary’s a Diet Coke guy. As for Ruthe, given her druthers, she freely admits she’d prefer a Coffee Coolatta from Dunkin’ Donuts. If that seems like heresy, well . . .
The Gobin family Bible is nearby.
It’s on the desk next to the computer with the Coca-Cola mouse pad and the screen saver that says “Drink Coca-Cola at Ruthe’s Bar & Grill.”
Their Bible is Petretti’s “Coca-Cola Collector’s Price Guide.” It’s a six-pound, 687-page, epic compilation of all things Coke, but rather than looking through the book and deciding what to seek, Gary and Ruthe prefer the random thrill of the hunt.
“E-Bay is good,” Gary said, “but any time I see an antique shop, I stop. It’s a challenge to find something good and to find it at the right price, so that what’s I try to do when I’m on the road.”
He’s on the road a lot.
Gary is the used-truck manager for McDevitt Trucks in Manchester. He travels all over the Eastern Seaboard picking up trucks for the company, so when you consider Gary’s vocation and his avocation, it should come as no surprise that the Gobins have a staggering collection of mini-Coca-Cola trucks and cars.
They’re displayed in clear Plexiglas shelves mounted on the walls all over the family room — Dale Earnhardt Coca-Cola cars and Buddy L Trucks dating back to the ’50s — and many have been lovingly restored by Gary Gobin Jr.
“If you can find a mint, untouched piece, it’s worth a lot more than a restored piece,” Gary Sr. explained, “but those mint, untouched pieces are hard to find. It’s a balancing act. Sometimes you get stuff that’s so bad, you have to do something, even knowing that if you try and restore a piece, it can lose a percentage of its value.”
That having been said . . .
“Gary has a real knack for restoration,” Gary Sr. smiled. “He works at Merrill & Sons, an auto body shop in Weare, and he’ll spend hours sanding a single piece to make sure it’s 100 percent before he’ll start painting it. He’s a perfectionist, and he’s going to inherit all of this.”
Not for a while, however.
The Gobins have plans.
“If I live long enough,” Gary Sr. said — and as he spoke, I swear to you the old-fashioned juke box in the corner played the 1970s jingle, “I’d Like to Buy the World a Coke” in an eerie counterpoint — “I’m going to add on a room in the basement and we’ll have a second Coke room downstairs.”
“We probably have half as much again down there already,” added Ruthe, whose color photographs of their Coca-Cola collection were recently published in “Country Collectibles” magazine.
“That’s because I prefer the older stuff,” Gary Sr. explained, “so when I get the older stuff, I take the newer stuff out of this room and store it downstairs.”
As we spoke, Gary was sitting on an old Coca-Cola cooler that now serves as a coffee table. Ruthe was sitting on a small sofa strewn with embroidered Coca-Cola throw pillows and I was sitting on a recliner draped with a fleece Coca-Cola blanket and the only way we could have been more immersed in Coca-Cola was if we were dropped into a vat at the bottling plant.
When the song stopped, it got quiet for a moment.
They watched me as I started looking around the room — a bit in disbelief — one last time. Then they looked at each other and laughed.
“What can I say?” Ruthe laughed. “We’re collectors.”
“It’s our hobby,” Gary nodded.
Take it from me.
The Gobins? When it comes to Coke collectibles?
They’re The Real Thing.
John Clayton’s “In the City” column appears in Monday’s Union Leader. His e-mail address is jclayton@theunion
leader.com
