Susan Renaker Nikas still remembers the duck that saved her parents' ceramics business nearly 70 years ago.
The tiny bird was white and seemed to be gliding on a lake, designed on a whim by her mother. As an afterthought, her father added it to an order sheet for the dishware that the couple had been selling, somewhat steadily, despite a few nagging production problems.
The duck, however, changed everything. Customers snapped it up.
"From that point on, they decided to make animal figurines. They didn't have to worry about them leaking," joked Nikas, who runs the operation that John and Maxine Renaker started in their Culver City garage in 1945.
Over the decades, the miniatures produced by Hagen-Renaker Inc. have hooked generations of collectors willing to part with a few bucks for a small item or a few hundred for a larger, more intricate figure. Retired models have been known to sell online for several hundred dollars.
But now, the company is struggling because of foreign competition and a changing retail scene. Hagen-Renaker once operated two factories with 300 employees; one factory remains these days, in San Dimas, employing just 18 workers. And Nikas, 74, acknowledges she may be presiding over the final days of her family's company.
A typical week will bring in $9,000 or $10,000 in sales, Nikas said, with about half going to cover payroll costs. A "Got Bunnies?" mail marketing campaign, timed to coincide with Easter, led to a $13,000 sales week.
But Nikas isn't quitting yet.
"I'm a pessimistic optimist," she said. "I like to give chance a chance."
The days in the Renaker garage were few. In 1946, Maxine's carpenter father, Ole Hagen, built the family a combination home and factory in Monrovia with the help of his brother, Arne. In thanks, the two were given first billing in the new company's name.
Hagen-Renaker took advantage of the consumer spending boom after World War II and thrived through the 1950s. Maxine and John hired craftspeople to design and hand paint the figures, and a few of the stalwarts developed faithful fan bases for their works, by turns quaint, cartoonish and realistic.
The products were an early fixture at Disneyland, with collectible ceramic sets such as Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and cookie jars shaped like Dumbo and other characters.
The 1960s brought the first bout with cheap imports, which slammed the U.S. ceramics industry. In response, the company tried new lines of critters and worked to cut costs, said Ed Alcorn, a Florida collector who maintains an online store and museum devoted to Hagen-Renaker.
Alcorn once paid $80,000 for a group of 10,000 Hagen-Renaker items, many of which he resold. His favorite is a 9-inch-tall Arabian horse that is featured on his website, http://www.hagenrenakermuseum.com.
"Look at the muscles on it that seem to ripple with movement," Alcorn said. "Look at the vein structure in the horse's face. Hagen-Renaker makes the finest ceramic animal figurines in the world."
The company's current 220-piece product line runs from a half-inch-tall chick for $4 to an 11-inch re-issued horse that costs $400. Dogs are the most popular, Nikas said.
In the mid-1960s, Hagen-Renaker moved to a sprawling property in San Dimas with a factory that was more efficient than the old Monrovia one.
Meanwhile, Susan Renaker was pursuing careers in music and teaching. She married Ted Nikas, who owned the popular Prison of Socrates coffeehouse in Balboa, where Susan often performed folk music.
Nikas remembers when her father, then approaching 60, started making plans to turn much of the ceramic factory's property into a plant nursery. Maxine issued a call to arms to her four children and other family members: Please come back and help.
It was 1974, and Nikas was teaching history to middle school students.