F. W. Woolworth and the Five and Dime (eBook)

Foreword

“That sure is a big hole, Dad!”

I was sitting on my father’s shoulders looking through a window cut through a plywood fence built to protect the basement of what would become the new F.W. Woolworth store #112. “It has to be, son,” my father replied. “For all the business we are going to do in the new store, we need a basement big enough to hold a lot of inventory.”

My father, George W. Nelson, was manager of the current store #112 located on Commercial Avenue on the southeast side of Chicago. Old #112 (as it came to be called) sat in the middle of the block between 91st and 92nd streets, with an S.S. Kresge store right beside it. The year was 1951, and as I was only five years old, I don’t remember much of old #112 except that the U-shaped lunch counter was positioned at the rear of the store, which struck even a five-year-old as weird. The new #112, which was to be located down the block at the corner of 91st and Commercial across from Goldblatt’s department store, would be more than twice the size of the old store, with a lunch counter running along the entire south wall. It would share the location with a Kenny shoe store, not a competitor. Based on the size of the hole in the ground, I was sure the new #112 would be the best Woolworth store ever!

When opened in 1952, the new #112 was a marvel in the Five & Ten world (although since 1935 Woolworth was technically no longer a “Dime Store” but more properly a “Variety Store”). Unlike the old #112, which had a cash register at each counter, the new store had four checkouts at the front of the store. Only the candy, jewelry and food departments had separate cash registers. The store not only had a huge lunch counter but also a large kitchen, which allowed the preparation of turkey dinners, spaghetti and Salisbury steak in addition to the standard fare of hamburgers, hot dogs, club sandwiches and sundaes. In addition to the large basement, #112 was two stories tall. The second floor was rented out to doctors, dentists and other professionals. At opening the store was staffed by 84 employees, including three assistant managers, five office girls to count the money and pay the bills, four stockmen and 15 waitresses for the lunch counter as well as three cooks. These employees enjoyed separate break rooms for men and women as well as an employee cafeteria serviced by a dumbwaiter. To a now-six-year-old boy, the most marvelous luxury in the store was the candy department. All types of chocolates, jellies and penny candies were neatly arranged in bulk display cases. As a high-potential theft item, all candy in the stockroom was locked in the “candy room.” Another dumbwaiter was used to transport the treats from the candy room to the display cases on the main floor.

I was also amazed by the pet department, which took up the entire back wall. Parakeets, canaries, goldfish, tropicals as well as turtles and tadpoles competed for the customer’s attention. As a boy, I was not as impressed with the other departments such as cosmetics, jewelry, notions, housewares or ladies clothing. I have never forgotten, however, the name of the woman who staffed ladies undergarments, Myrtle. I thought it extremely funny that Myrtle rhymed with girdle. Six-year-old boys have a strange sense of humor.

It was great fun to have your father manage a Woolworth’s store. Besides being able to take advantage of the 10 per cent employee discount, after the store was closed I was allowed to run up and down the aisles. If you took off your shoes and got a good running start, you could slide in your socks 20 feet or more on the polished marble floors. For special occasions, I could ride the dumb waiter from the candy room to the candy department. What fun!

Another tradition was for my mother, Mary, and me to meet my father on Friday nights at a tavern across the street from #112, Lenny Carmeci’s. Lenny later went into the music business and discovered a group called the Champs, who had a number-one hit with Tequila. At Carmeci’s we would join my father and the Assistant Managers as they relaxed over a few cocktails (or “highballs,” as they were called in the 1950s) before going out to dinner. My father would give me nickels to play the jukebox. The Yellow Rose of Texas and The Tennessee Waltz were my favorites. Several times an evening he had me take over a draft beer to a white-haired man with a thick beard. At first I thought he might be Santa Claus, but I later found out he was the king of the Gypsies who also resided on the southeast side. These Friday night beers were my father’s way of saying thanks to the king for keeping his “subjects” from plying their trade at store #112.

Store #112’s expansion was not an isolated incident. Variety stores were being expanded or new stores built all over the country. By 1954 there were over 2,300 Woolworth’s in North America, employing over 93,000 men and women. Moreover, it was not the only variety store enjoying growth. S.S. Kresge, S.H. Kress, W.T. Grant, J.J. Newberry, J.G. McCrory and others were also at the height of their success. Today these stores are only memories. Most people under the age of 40 are unaware of their names, much less their accomplishments. Beginning in 1879, for 100 years the variety stores dominated retail trade in the United States. The contributions they made to the American way of life were enormous. From understanding the cost savings of volume purchases, to private labeling, to building national distribution networks, to shaping the downtown landscape of thousands of communities or even the introduction of Christmas tree ornaments to the United States, they had a major impact on life in America.

This book will examine a number of these variety stores from their beginnings, through their growth successes, until their demise, but it will concentrate on the first and the best of them, F.W. Woolworth. It is my hope that this examination will provide a better understanding of their contribution to American society.

My interest in variety stores stems from their importance in my childhood. As I grew up, besides my father, two other Nelsons were in Woolworth management. My great uncle, also a George W. Nelson, was the first to work for the company. He started in the 1920s as a “learner” and retired 45 years later as a Regional Merchandise Manager in the Chicago office. The stores and districts he managed are lost from my memory, but I do recall that as Merchandise Manager he was in charge of the notions departments. These included sewing, hair goods, gloves and handkerchiefs. I was told by his peers that he was one of smartest men ever to work for Woolworth’s. He had the ability to visit a store, walk the aisles and stockroom and figure out the dollar amount of that store’s inventory within a thousand dollars. As a young man he suffered from rheumatoid arthritis, which limited his mobility. My father always said that without this disability, he would have been promoted much further up the personnel chart.

My father started at Woolworth’s as a “learner” in 1939. He was a 1938 graduate of Streator, Illinois High School, as was his Uncle George. His first job was selling Chevrolets for the Virgil Z. Hill Motor Car Company; but seeing his uncle’s success at Woolworth’s, he applied there also. His first assignment as a “learner” was at store #1746 on 18th Street in Chicago. This was a small store even by 1939 standards. It was so small the El tracks ran right over it. When the trains came by, the entire store would shake. Away from home for the first time, he stayed at the YMCA. After promotion to Assistant Manager, he served at other Chicago area stores, until he was transferred to Rock Island, Illinois. It was in Rock Island that he met his future wife and my mother, Mary Smith.

The manager of the Rock Island store allowed my father to go home to Streator to celebrate Christmas 1942, but he had to be back to work by 9:00 a.m. on the 26th to begin preparing for inventory. Up early, as my father was racing to get back to Rock Island, it began to snow. Skidding, he lost control and the car flipped over. My father ended up in the back seat with a broken back. After months in traction, he was able to come back to work. Because of his injury, the draft board declared him 4F and unfit for induction into the armed forces. My father had mixed emotions about being unable to serve. While willing to defend our country, he did not meet the same fate of many his high school classmates, who gave their life to protect our liberties. The accident did give his Woolworth’s career a boost. With many F.W. managers called into the service, my father’s training was fast-forwarded. In January 1944, he was promoted to Manager of the Woolworth store in downtown Monmouth, Illinois.

My parents married in June of 1944, and in 1946 I was born. I don’t remember anything of Monmouth because in January 1947 my father was transferred to store #1040 on 43rd Street on the Southside of Chicago. Other than my father and his Assistant Manager, the employees and clientele were all black. Although #1040 was smaller in size than the Monmouth store, because its sales and profits were larger this move was considered a promotion. In 1949, he was transferred to old #112, which as you know became the new #112 in 1952.

My father’s promotions continued. In 1953, he became the District Manager for the Western Michigan territory, and in 1955 was transferred to the Englewood district in Chicago. In 1957, he was promoted into the Chicago district office as Merchandise Manager for health and...