Boise is a big town, almost three times bigger than it was when my family went there shopping for school clothes every fall in the late 1950s. Only my sisters got clothes; everything I needed was readily available in Weiser at Everybody’s Department Store. Actually, my sisters didn’t get more than one dress, shoes and maybe a coat. The selection was bigger in Boise, but the prices higher.
The reason for the trip was to get out of Weiser.
My father, who never needed clothes, went to the music stores where he tested out the new home size electric organs, which he hated but could not resist doodling on, bought sheet music and chatted with the sales people, who in those days knew a lot about music
My mother enjoyed shopping at The Mode, Falk’s ID and other downtown stores we in the hinterlands considered classy. Sometimes a great bargain fell into her lap; like the year she found a White Stag car coat that fit my older sister perfectly for $9, marked down from $16. Nine bucks was a lot for a car coat – Everybody’s had them for $6, but they weren’t White Stag and didn’t have the running deer logo on the collar.
The highlight of the trip was C.C. Anderson’s Department Store. It had escalators that glided you up and down from the ground floor to the mezzanine. If I promised to be good, my mother let me go and ride the escalators while she and my sisters tried on stuff. Often I would run into another aficionado about my age and we would race each other up the down escalator, ride sitting on the moving handrail and otherwise not be good.
We always ate lunch at C.C. Anderson’s in the restaurant on the mezzanine. Sometimes C.C. Anderson himself would appear in the restaurant. Old, small, round and bald like Winston Churchill in a three-piece blue serge suit, he would chuckle and toss the kids small packets of Chiclets gum. I always got my school shoes at C.C. Andersons and later would get my high school graduation suit there.
Last month C.C. Andersons closed for good. It had been Macy’s for about 20 years and, before that, it was The Bon Marche for almost 30 years. The family had sold the store after C.C.’s death sometime in the early 60s. You can imagine my surprise when The Idaho Statesman ran a story purportedly about the store’s history that didn’t mention C.C. Anderson. So soon they forget, or, more likely, never knew. The Statesman is owned by McClatchy Newspapers, a California based chain that only knows or cares how much money Boise puts in its coffers.
You can still go to Macy’s at The Boise Town Square Mall, which has lots and lots of escalators, but no kids playing on them. The uniformed security guards wouldn’t put up with it, I am sure. It has a big food court selling everything from cinnamon buns to Mexican food all of it tasting pretty much the same.
You can sit there all day and no chuckling old man will toss you a packet of Chiclets.
You must be imaginative, strong hearted. You must try things that may not work. And you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from.
Posted by: Jordans 4 | July 14, 2010 at 01:35 AM