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Jerry Goebert never carried a lunch box to school. But he can tell you the year, make and model of the one you carried in less time than it takes to slap together a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.

In the past four years, the 37-year-old Penn Hills, Allegheny County, resident has become an expert on classic, American-made lunch boxes.

A computer consultant for Ciscorp of East Liberty by day, he spends his free time at flea markets and yard sales in search of metal and vinyl memories of cafeterias past.

Goebert says his 560-box collection is one of the largest in Western Pennsylvania. His nearest rivals are Bill Poole, a Mt. Lebanon resident who has collected lunch boxes in 400 different styles, and Dave Russell, a Wilkinsburg resident who has about 540 different ones.

State laws in the 1970s and '80s prohibited the manufacture of children's metal lunch boxes, amid safety concerns that children were being injured when they were hitting each other with them.

Since then, the lunch boxes have become increasingly rare and valuable.

Collectors advertising in national publications such as "Hot Boxing" magazine are offering up to $600 for specific makes and models.

For Goebert, the pop culture journey began four years ago when he purchased a "Flintstones" lunch box for 50 cents at a local church sale.

"I was up to 60 or 70 boxes before I knew there was such a thing as collecting them," he said.

"And I think I had 200 before I paid more than 50 cents for any of them."

The basement of his home has been transformed into a mini-museum, with the treasure of countless flea markets lined up in alphabetical order along four walls of shelves.

Television is a major theme. From "Lassie" to "Charlie's Angels," the lunch box designs mirror popular shows of the 1950s, '60s and '70s.

There is an entire series of early "Barbie Doll" lunch boxes and a black patent leather model from the mid-1960s that comes complete with a Thermos in psychedelic black and gold.

Among Goebert's personal favorites are the 4,000-edition "Bach's Lunch" boxes designed for Volkwein Brothers Inc. music company and the 1960 "Astronaut Dome" lunch box by American Thermos.

Besides setting up exhibits at the local public library, he has taken his collection on the road to national conventions.

Last month, Goebert packed 200 lunch boxes in the back of a car and drove to a gathering in Tennessee to trade with other collectors.

His three children, Mary Jayne, 10, Anna, 5, and Matt, 4, used to be allowed to take lunch boxes from the collection to school.

"Now, they only take the plastic ones," Goebert said.

Why does he do it?

"I've always collected things," Goebert said. "First it was records, then stamps. I also collected board games, but I traded them for my boxes."

"It's just his personality," said his wife Ellen, 31. "Everything's in order on computer sheets. I think it's real healthy."

As lunch boxes have become scarce, collecting has become more scientific, practitioners say. Their unofficial bible is the 1989 "Price Guide" published by Massachusetts collector Scott Bruce.

It lists the year, make, model number and market value of classic lunch boxes. Although Goebert is relatively new to the collecting scene, fellow lunch box enthusiasts regard him as a serious competitor.

"Jerry's pretty fierce," said Poole, 44. "We each have lunch boxes that the other one needs. But I don't trade with him much. He's too intense for me."

Goebert still stops by the Goodwill store in Wilkinsburg every day on his way home from work to look for lunch boxes.

Recently, he began writing articles and poems for "Inside the Lunchbox," a monthly newsletter published in Utah.

Although no one knows how many classic lunch boxes are waiting to be rescued from trash cans and garage sales, Goebert said his collection will "max out" at around 800.

Until then, he is content to keep looking.

"It keeps me busy," he said. "And I get thrilled for weeks when I find something I don't have."

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