SHOPPING DAYS IN THE FIFTIES

When I was a little girl, there were no malls or shopping centers in the outskirts of town. The only place to really shop for anything other than hardware or groceries was downtown. When we did “go to town” it was a big deal.

First, we had to get ready – than meant dressing up in our best clothes. This custom continued even when I was going with friends to town without an adult accompanying us. (One friend always had to wear a dressy hat and white gloves which she promptly removed as soon as we were out of sight of her mother.)

Next, we had to walk to the bus stop. We had two choices – we could walk a shorter distance and wait for the “shuttle bus,” which only came once every hour, or we could walk about a mile and catch the direct route downtown. With mother, we usually took the shuttle, but when I went with my friends, we would opt for the walk.

Mother would herd the three of us onto the bus for the ride to town, and although we didn’t much like the smell of the exhaust, we were excited to be spending the day shopping.

We loved to go to Harvey’s Department Store where there were carousel horses all around. I seem to remember live monkeys there, too. They were the first store in town to have escalators and we loved riding them as well. And eating at the lunch counter in the basement was a treat, also. I usually got a grilled cheese, but sometimes I chose a hot roast beef sandwich instead. Other choices for places to eat were the Woolworth’s lunch counter (the one featured on national news when the sit-ins were held in the sixties), the Krystal, or for really special times --- Cross Keys Restaurant. Later on the in the afternoon we would stop at Candyland’s for a chocolate drift or “chipped chocolate” ice cream.

Actually, Mother didn’t like Harvey’s as much as she did Castner Knott’s and Cain Sloan’s. She usually bought most of her sewing fabrics and patterns or “ready made dresses” from those places. I think Harvey’s was probably for us girls since we liked it so much.

I remember once when I was about eight or nine we were shopping at one of the stores and I became separated from the rest of the family. I looked all over the floor and then got the bright idea that they had left the floor. So I got on the elevator and went down to the second floor and searched and searched. I went back to the elevator and told the operator about it and she asked me what my mother was shopping for. When I told her clothes for my sister, she took me to the third floor (where I was originally). The door slid open and there was Mother wringing her hands. I thought she would be mad at me for leaving the floor, but she took all the blame herself. And she was probably so relieved that she didn’t have room for anger.

Those three department stores were all together on Church Street, but we had to walk down Fifth or Sixth Avenue to get to Loveman’s on Union. That’s where Mother always bought her hats. There was a milliner there she especially liked named Harry. He always treated her like she was the only customer he had. He was quite a salesman.

By the time we had traipsed all over town (probably only five or six blocks altogether), we girls were worn out. So we would drag ourselves back to Church and Sixth to wait for the bus. Then another walk home from the bus stop. All of us were worn out.

It must have been quite a chore to take all of us to town for the day; no wonder Mother didn’t do it very often. But those trips stand out in my mind as being very special occasions.