Kitschy appliances were all the rage in the 60s and 70s. And my mom had her fair share of them. Sure, she used her trusty electric skillet most often. She'd make her own spaghetti sauce and would brown a pound or so of ground meat in her electric skillet before adding it to the sauce. She used her electric skillet to make hamburgers, fry chicken and, at Passover, she'd use it to make matzo brie (fried matzo), one of the few things I like about the springtime Jewish holiday. The electric skillet was always out, always on display on the counter of our avocado-colored kitchen, because it saw so much regular cooking action.
My mom had a pressure cooker, too, and that also got plenty of use in the Pincus kitchen. At least once a week, my mom would stuff that pressure cooker with little cubes of beef, cut-up vegetables and homemade dumplings. Then, she'd clamp the lid down tight and, several hours later, she would extract the most delicious beef stew you or I ever tasted (of course, this is a biased opinion).
When my parents passed away in the early 1990s, cleaning out their house was quite an undertaking. Apparently, my parents never threw anything away. When the hall closet was opened, it was as though we were hovering behind Howard Carter as he entered King Tut's tomb. Fittingly, that closet looked like its contents had been touched since 1922. There was a long-forgotten collection of one-time used appliances that hadn't seen the light of day since the Nixon Administration.
A fire destroyed the then-closed Million Dollar Pier in 1981. So much for making a return.