Building From Italy: The Isolation Problem

 There's something particular about being a McElroy enthusiast in Italy.

In the United States, there's a community. There are collectors, builders, restorers, conventions. There's Vent Haven in Kentucky with original figures on display. There's a Facebook group where people who truly understand these figures talk to each other. There's Greg Claassen in Kansas, Tyler Ellis at Dapper Dummies, Chance Wolf at Wolf's Magic.

Here in Tuscany, there's me.

I don't say this to complain. Isolation has its advantages — you develop your own solutions, you trust your hands more than you trust instructions, you build a relationship with the craft that's entirely your own.

But there are moments when you finish a mechanical assembly, something clicks perfectly into place, the floating eyes move exactly as they should — and you have no one to show it to. No one who would understand what it took to get there.

That's part of why I'm writing this blog. And part of why I've been reaching out to the American community lately.

If you're reading this from the other side of the Atlantic — hello. I'd love to hear from you.

Alessio

The Typewriter Control Post: Glenn's Masterpiece

 

If there is one element that defines a McElroy figure above all others, it's the control post.

Most ventriloquist figures of the 1930s and 40s were operated with a simple wooden stick and one or two levers for the jaw and maybe the eyes. The McElroy control post is something else entirely.

Glenn McElroy designed a system of typewriter-style keys and levers mounted on a box at the top of the headstick. Each key or lever controls a specific animation: one for the left winker, one for the right, one for the eyebrows, one for the tongue, one for the nose. The jaw is controlled by the thumb. The upper lip by the index finger on the other side.

The result looks like a tiny musical instrument. And in a way, that's exactly what it is — a instrument for playing expressions.

What fascinates me most is that Glenn designed this system to be operated with one hand, while the other hand is free for gestures or props. Every control is positioned so that the performer can reach it naturally, without looking, without thinking.

That's not just engineering. That's ergonomics. That's craft at the highest level.

Replicating this system is one of the greatest challenges — and greatest joys — of building a McElroy replica.

Alessio

Glenn and George: Two Brothers, Two Geniuses

 The McElroy story is really two stories in one.

George was the artist. He sculpted the faces, painted them, gave each figure its personality. Those Norman Rockwell-like expressions — the dimpled cheeks, the bulbous noses, the eyes that seem to follow you — are entirely his work. George had the ability to sculpt a face that was simultaneously comic and deeply human.

Glenn was the engineer. He designed and built the mechanical systems from scratch, with no blueprint to follow and no tradition to draw from. He invented solutions to problems that no one had solved before: how to make eyes float in all directions with a single cable, how to fit fourteen independent functions into a head the size of a child's, how to make it all accessible to one hand.

Together they created something neither could have made alone.

What I find most moving about their story is that they worked in relative obscurity. They weren't famous performers or celebrated inventors. They were two brothers in Harrison, Ohio, building extraordinary things in a workshop, selling figures through Abbott's Magic catalogue for a few years in the late 1930s.

And yet here I am, in Tuscany, Italy, in 2025, still trying to understand what they figured out.

Alessio

The McElroy Body: What Makes It Different

 Most people who discover the McElroy brothers focus on the face. And I understand — those faces are extraordinary. But the body is where the real engineering story begins.

The McElroy body is not just a shell. It's a working space designed around the control post. The chest cavity is deeper than most figures of the era, the neck opening is wider, and the internal structure is built to allow the cradle — the mechanism that connects the head to the headstick — to move freely in multiple directions.

This means the performer can tilt the head, turn it, and animate the face all at the same time, with one hand inside the body. That level of control is what separates a McElroy from everything else.

I have a body cast from an original McElroy mold. Every time I look at it I'm struck by how deliberate every dimension is. Nothing is accidental. Glenn McElroy thought through every millimeter of that interior space before a single figure was built.

That's the level of craft I'm trying to honor with this replica.

Alessio

Building McElroy Mechanics: Where I Start

A lot of figure builders focus on the head first — the sculpt, the paint, the face. I understand why. The face is what people see.

But for me, it always starts with the mechanics.

I come from a background in micro-mechanical work, and the McElroy control system is where I feel most at home. Metal stock, brass rods, small pivot points, levers that need to move with exactly the right amount of resistance — this is the part of the craft I love most.

The floating eye mechanism alone is a small engineering problem worth solving. The eyes need to move freely in all directions, return to center naturally, and respond to the slightest cable movement without sticking or dragging. Getting that balance right takes time, patience, and a lot of small adjustments.

The upper lip sneer is another favorite of mine. When it works correctly — smooth, consistent, with just the right travel — it transforms the figure's expressiveness completely. A figure with a working sneer can look amused, suspicious, contemptuous, or smug, all from the same movement depending on context.

This is what Glenn McElroy understood better than anyone: that expression is mechanical before it is artistic.

I'm rebuilding from the ground up on this new replica. More updates soon.

Alessio

Why McElroy?

People sometimes ask me why I'm so fixated on the McElroy brothers specifically. There are other great figure makers — Marshall, Mack, Selberg — so why these two?

The answer is simple: Glenn and George McElroy didn't just build ventriloquist figures. They built mechanical puzzles that happened to have a face.

When Frank Marshall first saw a McElroy figure at a magicians' convention in 1938, he reportedly said: "Looks like I'll have to go out of business." That says everything. Marshall was one of the greatest figure makers of his era — and he was genuinely shaken.

What makes a McElroy different is the control post. While most figures of that era had two or three functions at most, a fully loaded McElroy could have up to fourteen: floating eyes in all directions, crossing eyes, individual winkers, raising eyebrows, upper lip sneer, stick-out tongue, wiggle ears, wiggle nose, light-up nose, flip-up fright wig. All controlled by a typewriter-style keyboard of levers and keys built into the headstick.

The result is a figure that feels alive in a way no other dummy does. Every combination of movements creates a new expression. The possibilities are in the hundreds.

That's why McElroy. That's why I can't let this go.

Alessio

I'm Back — And the Dream Is Still Alive

It's been a while. Life gets in the way, as it always does.

But the McElroy brothers never really left my mind. If anything, the passion has grown stronger over the years — and now I'm ready to pick up where I left off.

For those who are new here: I'm Alessio, a ventriloquist and figure builder from Tuscany, Italy. This blog documents my journey building a McElroy-style replica from scratch — mechanics included. I've always been drawn to the inner workings of these figures: the floating eyes, the upper lip sneer, the typewriter-key control post. The genius of Glenn and George McElroy is something I think about more than I'd like to admit.

I already have a body cast from an original McElroy mold. The mechanics are my territory — I'm comfortable with metal stock, rods, and the kind of micro-mechanical work these figures demand.

What I'm still looking for is a head cast. If you're reading this and you know of one, or know someone who might — please reach out. I would be very grateful.

The project is alive. Stay tuned.

Alessio