By: Maria Williams

When Elonne Dantzer designed Milky the Cow for Kenner, she had no idea the royalties would one day buy her a house. It wasn’t her first toy, and certainly not her last, but it was the first time she got paid not just for her time but for her idea. 

And that’s rare. 

In an industry built on imagination, very few designers actually own the rights to the joy they create.  Most get paid by the hour, their names left off the packaging, their impact quietly folded into a brand’s  story. But Dantzer—a freelance artist, inventor, and creative mind behind toys like Betty Spaghetti and  Poppy Fresh—pushed past that boundary. Sometimes by accident. Sometimes by guts. 

From Hourly Paycheck to Royalty Checks 

Dantzer spent years designing on salary. At Mattel, she helped build iconic product lines. But it wasn’t until she went freelance, working with toy legend Eddie Goldfarb, that things shifted. “He said, bring me ideas,” Dantzer recalls. “So I brought him ten. He sold one right away.” 

That one? Milky the Cow. 

Kenner bought it immediately. It was quirky, interactive, and unlike anything else in the market. Dantzer started seeing checks with her name on them—not from a timecard, but as a percentage of every sale.  For the first time in her career, she was being paid like the originator, not just the labor. 

Mentorship, Royalties, and Reinvention 

Eddie Goldfarb, best known for inventing the chattering teeth toy, became Dantzer’s unlikely creative partner. Every week, she’d make the long drive to his studio in Northridge, California, loaded with concepts. It was a mentorship that paid off—literally. 

“I got five or six patents while working with Eddie,” she says. “We sold to Kenner, Playskool, and more.” 

It wasn’t glamorous. There were no startup launches or LinkedIn announcements. Just two creatives exchanging trust, ideas, and invention. 

When Great Ideas Die in Conference Rooms 

But for every Milky the Cow, there were ten brilliant ideas that never saw daylight. 

“We would spend weeks on a presentation,” Dantzer says. “And then upper management would say,  ‘We’ve decided not to enter this category.'”

This wasn’t rare. It was routine. Even within massive companies like Mattel, teams would pour their time into developing characters, accessories, and themed worlds, only to have them scrapped by marketing teams or shelved indefinitely. 

“You care about it. You believe in it. But it gets sidelined for something less creative that feels safer.” 

This emotional rollercoaster is one few consumers ever see—the heartbreak behind the bright plastic shelves. 

Who Really Owns the Magic? 

Toys are deeply personal. For kids, they become companions, teachers, and heroes. However, the intellectual property behind those toys is rarely owned by the people who birthed them. 

“There are people who do all the heavy lifting,” Dantzer says. “The sketching, sculpting, the vision. And  their names aren’t anywhere.” 

In the toy industry, ideas often become company property the moment they’re handed in. Freelancers might have more freedom but also face more uncertainty. Royalties are rare, and when they exist,  they’re hard-won. 

Dantzer was one of the lucky ones. But even she didn’t plan it. She sculpted Poppy Fresh over a weekend on her own time just because she believed in the character. It worked. Pillsbury said yes. A  new toy family was born. 

What Designers Deserve Now 

Today, Dantzer reflects on decades of invention—some celebrated, others lost to time. But her advice to creators is simple: document everything. 

“I saved boxes of sketches,” she says. “You never know which idea becomes the one.” 

She encourages young designers to ask questions early: Who owns the idea? Is there a royalty option?  What happens if it gets licensed? 

The toy industry isn’t known for transparency. But with creators sharing their stories and designers like  Dantzer finally getting their due, the conversation is changing. 

Because behind every childhood favorite, there’s someone like Elonne Dantzer—sketching in silence,  believing in a character no one else sees yet, and hoping this time, it gets the credit it deserves.