Remembering the Wiz Personal Locker

…and that’s about as much as I can remember off the top of my head of the otherwise extremely catchy jingle that was sung throughout a commercial for the Wiz Personal Locker, a backpack whose commercial I’ve spent literal years trying to find, and have had absolutely no luck with.

Even now, most of what you’re likely to find on the internet amounts to pictures on Pinterest and the like, the odd eBay or Etsy page, or as part of ads for those “get these great prize!” schemes you’d see in Boys’ Life magazine, as preserved by Google. People who even know what I’m talking about has proven to be even rarer finds.

But I remember it all so very well. During after-school television in the late ’80s, the ads for this item weren’t really inescapable, but they were certainly prevalent. And I’m not sure I ever wanted another backpack as much as I wanted this one.

Jingle aside, it just seemed cool. A locker on my back? For everything I stack? As a kid who was usually organized to the point his parents would brag to their friends about it (yet they never trusted me enough to have toys which incorporated slime. Go figure), well, sign me up!

Despite the prevalence of the ads, however, actually finding one was another matter. None of the stores around us ever seemed to have any, nor were they ever advertised by them as well as they were on TV. It almost felt like one of those times when you wind up getting a commercial for something that was simply never meant to be seen by you, like for some event or place that’s in another part of the country.

But then it happened. I had a tendency to go through the Sunday paper as a kid, checking out circulars to see what sales I could spot for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles figures or NES games, to say nothing of the Sunday comics, and there it was: One place boasted having them. I don’t remember the name of the store, but I do remember that it was rather out of the way.

Does anyone remember when these jewellery department stores were a thing? (Are they still a thing?) They were like these big box stores, but with a certain significant chunk focused on jewellery, maybe crystal ware, stuff like that. Brendle’s was one such place. It was one a whole other level from other big box stores — the lasting impression of the Brendle’s I got to visit was that they had a number of Transformers from earlier in the line that I never saw on the shelves of our local Kmart, Walmart, K&K Toys, and the like.

I don’t think this was a Brendle’s, but it still stuck with me like that. When we went, we naturally didn’t just pop in and out — we shopped a bit. I recall seeing a Super Mario Bros. coloring book there, which my parents gladly got for me, as well as the Super Mario Bros. Game & Watch, which they gladly did not. Seeing that blew my mind, as I’d never seen it before, and I would never see it again — in person, anyway. (Obviously, the internet has changed that.)

But while we were there, I got it at long last: my very own Wiz Personal Locker.

I think we got it just in time for the first day of school, and… it was something of a disaster.

For starters, the backpack did not keep its shape once you started putting things in it. To the point that the shelf inside would not remain fastened. It just wasn’t very sturdy, so once some weight was placed inside, it became less of a rectangle and more of a vertical parallelogram (translation: slanted rectangle).

This would extend to the straps. I thought it was really cool how the straps could snap onto themselves, keeping the dangling bits out of the way. Except again, the application of any sort of stress, i.e. weight, saw that go right down the toilet. *Pop!* *Pop!* And off they go.

The design wasn’t living up to expectations, to be certain, but it was the last thing that sealed the deal — or rather, its fate.

It was not long before the simple rigor of everyday school life took its toll — possibly within the first day, but certainly within the first week. The material began to tear, I think along the seam, exposing the foam innards. After all the time trying to get my hands on one of these, one thing became unfortunately certain: This one had to go back.

And back we went, to that far-from-us retailer to make good on the return policy. I was unquestionably crestfallen, but I was ready to get another one. Surely it had to just be the one pack that was defective, right?

Sadly, I never got to find out. I don’t remember the specifics of the conversation, but I seem to recall it being made clear that whatever backpack I walked out of the store with would be the one I was carrying for the rest of the year. I still wasn’t quite ready to give up the dream just yet, but I do believe there was a little parental “Are you suuure?” nudging going on that led me to decide that no, I would not get another Wiz Personal Locker.

So I wound up with another more generic, yet altogether robust bag which got me through the year. Maybe even into the next, I don’t quite remember.

Because as good as those packs may have been, they weren’t etched into my memory the way the Wiz Personal Locker was… for better or for worse.

There is one other article I’ve been able to find about the Wiz Personal Locker, and they seem to remember the rest of the jingle: “The Wiz is the wiz, for everything there is. There a place for your shoes, and everything you use.” Sounds pretty close to me.

They also reveal that there was a subline for the even younger set, the “Wiz Too Junior Locker,” and that the production of these lasted long enough for there to be some featuring licensed characters, including the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney’s Aladdin, and Jurassic Park, among others.

Did you own a Wiz Personal Locker (or Wiz Too)? How did that work out for you? (Better than it did for me, I hope!) I’d love to hear all about it here, or you can reach me on Twitter at @LBD_Nytetrayn.

Thanks for reading!

All images courtesy of and used with permission of SlimeCity on Etsy.

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David Oxford is a freelance writer of many varied interests. If you’re interested in hiring him, please drop him a line at david.oxford (at) nyteworks.net.

David Oxford

David Oxford, or “LBD ‘Nytetrayn’,” as he is sometimes also known, is a freelance writer of many varied interests who resides in Toronto, Ontario, Canada. If you’re interested in hiring him, please drop him a line at david.oxford (at) nyteworks.net.

For a full list of places to find him online, click here.