Remembering Woolworth’s

by Karen Plunkett-Powell

  Thousands of similar stories can be found in the historical archives of the company. It wasn’t until the final months of Woolworth’s 118-year history that this charm and spectacle began to disappear. At that point, employees knew their time with the once-great company was limited, and it was difficult to muster up any semblance of enthusiasm.

  This spirit of drama and artistry, of dreaming-up creative ideas that would make a splash with millions of budget-conscious customers, was a tradition started by Frank Woolworth over a century before. These days, we take such merchandising events for granted, yawning at the latest ad for a gala sidewalk sale or a 150-story high Godzilla balloon heralding a grand opening. However, in the early days, before the advent of these and other high-tech amusements like video arcades, ten-screen movie theaters and Disneyland, many working- and middle-class Americans looked to their weekly shopping trips to Main Street for diversion. Frank Woolworth capitalized on this knowledge, and in some cases, pulled out all the stops to give his patrons a true spectacle.

  The Woolworth’s Roof Garden and Vaudeville House

  As a poor farmboy growing up in northern New York, Frank was not exposed to much artistry or theater, but his sensibilities rapidly matured after his first venture to Europe in 1890. He didn’t waste any time transferring some of his newfound drama into the framework of his American stores. The term “Refreshment Room,” for example, was a phrase borrowed from the British, as Frank thought it a much more sophisticated term than “restaurant” or “food hall.” The magnificent frescoes he incorporated into his great Woolworth Building in New York reminded him of Paris; the lively “ooompa” and march bands that amused patrons during some of his grand openings in New York and Chicago, were reminiscent of his experiences in Germany and Switzerland. It was in Vienna, however, that his primary artistic passion, which was music, was fueled to near capacity. The performances of Vienna symphonies brought tears to his eyes, so inspiring him that, in later years, he actually imported a piece of Vienna to his Woolworth’s store in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He accomplished this through building “the wonder of wonders,” the Woolworth Roof Garden and Vaudeville House.

  Frank had premiered his first tiny store at 170 Queen Street in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in 1879. By the end of 1890, he had replaced this one with a bigger site on 6 and 8 North Queen. Still not satisfied, Frank opened an even larger, more expansive five-and-ten on November 6, 1900, and this was the landmark that added true drama to his emerging commercial empire. Located in a new five-story Woolworth “skyscraper” on the corner of North Queen and Grant, the five-and-dime itself was situated at sidewalk level, with leased offices filling up the interim floors. The store alone was enough to raise eyebrows, with its profusion of merchandise, displays, and employees, but the most spectacular part of all was located high above the sidewalk, in the Woolworth Roof Garden. To get there, patrons would walk through the five-and-dime proper, then take a modern elevator to the top of the building. Upon arrival, they were astonished to find an exquisite roof garden resplendent with exotic greenery and flowers. They were treated to a bird’s eye view of the skyscraper’s gold-domed peaks, colonnades, and peristyles, enhanced by colored lights. An observation area offered panoramic views of the city and surrounding countryside. The local Intelligencer reported the Woolworth’s skyscraper was so high that “the people appeared in the streets below like pigmies.”

  The highlight of all this rooftop opulence was a large stage and auditorium area, known colloquially as the Woolworth Vaudeville House. It was here that Woolworth introduced some of the best entertainment on the East Coast to the growing and heterogeneous population of Lancasterians. Vaudeville was in its prime in 1900, and Lancaster was dotted with flourishing opera and vaudeville houses, including the popular Colonial Theater and Orange Street Opera House. When the week’s work was done, whether at factory, retail establishment, or farm, the population would stream to the town’s amusement centers to enjoy the acts of current headliners. Favorite performers at Woolworth’s Vaudeville House and other theaters in Lancaster included the Four Musical Maids, the Famous Miners’, Miss Josephine and Her Quartette of Colored Youngsters, and the “authentic Indian rain dances” of Princess Wan-A-Tea. All of the vaudeville houses, including Frank’s Woolworth’s, presented several different forms of entertainment in one night, so along with the songsters and dancers, there were also magicians, ventriloquists, comedians, and acrobats. Animal acts such as Wesley’s Sea Lions provided additional sure-fire crowd-pleasers. One of the more memorable evenings was the night that F. W. Woolworth’s featured a genuine European symphony orchestra, straight from Vienna. On that balmy weekend in Lancaster, the sounds of master violinists and percussionists filled the auditorium, allowing Frank Woolworth to bring the music he loved into the realm of the Pennsylvania’s working-and middle-class families.

  By 1910, vaudeville was already on the decline, as fledgling movie houses and nickelodeons started showing short silent flickers. Many of the vaudeville houses, in Lancaster and in large towns across the country, started to offer both silent movies and vaudeville performers on the same bill, but it was soon clear that minstrels and acrobats were being passed over in favor of this marvel of moving picture entertainment. Frank Woolworth was never one to balk at changing times, and he was certainly not the type to hang on until the bottom fell out of the market. So, he razed the beautiful roof garden and its auditorium and replaced it with modern offices, which he rented out for top-dollar rates. In 1911, he remodeled the site’s sidewalk Red-Front, thus creating the largest ever Lancaster five-and-dime, complete with an exquisite Refreshment Room that specialized in fried oysters. In the rear of the store, one could find a lavish executive office, entered by walking through a plate-glass doorway and past two life-sized, hand-carved lions. Over 35,000 locals and scores of dignitaries attended the grand opening. That afternoon, Frank smugly boasted to one reporter: “We’ve got some of the best people in town here. Don’t it do your heart good?” It was certainly good for Frank’s wallet. The day’s sales were astronomical, and the media fairly gushed with praise for the porky, silk-hatted Merchant Prince who brought elegance to the world of the five-and-dime. Although they would miss the roof garden for years to come, the Lancaster county patrons were pleased to be gifted with a new spectacle to replace the old.

  Woolworth’s in Hollywood

  By 1916, the sixty-four-year-old Frank Woolworth’s health was seriously deteriorating, and he was ordered by his doctors to take a few weeks off for some rest and relaxation. Frank’s first vacation preference was Europe, where he loved to bask in the healing waters of expensive spas and indulge in exotic, rich French foods. But World War I was wreaking havoc overseas, making that sojourn impossible. As an alternative, one of his colleagues suggested he visit the Pacific Coast of the United States, a region he had never seen before. Frank agreed and so set out with a large party to take in the scenic mountains and Yellowstone, and tour a sampling of his hundreds of West Coast F. W. Woolworth’s stores. In the beginning, Frank attempted to arrive at the stores undercover, but this plan was quickly shelved. Word of his arrival quickly leaked out, both to employees and the press, until his every move became a topic of great excitement with the local media. The King of the Five-and-Dime was finally on the West Coast, and his loyal employees were both excited and proud about this milestone. Indeed, such a hoopla was created that one would have sworn that it was the president of the United States, not the president of F. W. Woolworth’s, who was coming to town.

  For the entire span of his five-and-dime tour, Frank was greeted with banners, lavish entertainment, executive banquets, and massive crowds. It is unclear exactly how restful this trip was, considering his hectic schedule, but it is documented that one of his favorite experiences of the sojourn occurred in Los Angeles, California. It was there, at the “picture center” known as Universal Studios, that Woolworth experienced the thrill of a lifetime. Frank was invited to Universal for a private studio lot
tour, followed by an opportunity to watch the filming of a silent movie. Knowing of Frank’s great love for all of the dramatic arts, the director asked Frank to step in front of the cameras. He instructed Frank to act the part of a man who had lost his wife in a crowd. His task was to walk across the room, looking for his spouse. He was then to show apparent concern when he couldn’t locate her. Reportedly, Woolworth did exactly as he was told, and was lauded by the director for a job well done. For the time being, the name of both film and director is a mystery, but Frank Woolworth certainly documented this event in his famous series of General Letters, which detailed his business and personal adventures for his managers and colleagues. If the Venator Group ever releases its Woolworth archives to the public, the unsolved mystery of Woolworth’s debut in the silent pictures will most likely be unraveled.

  Silent Movie Trivia

  The original backdrop for a major scene in “Poor Little Rich Girl” (1917) starring Mary Pickford featured a “doll-sized” F. W. Woolworth’s store. This was one of the first times in film history that a miniature painting was used to create the illusion of a location

  Another pre-Depression movie that specifically involved F. W. Woolworth’s was the 1929 musical, The Girl From Woolworths. Frank was gone eight years by the time this film debuted, but he would have probably gotten a kick out of its use of his company’s name.

  The Girl From Woolworths was one of the earliest feature films to incorporate a “Vitaphone” musical sound score. By the end of 1927, only about 200 movie theaters in the country were even equipped to run such sound (it took several years before talking pictures totally replaced the silents) and for this reason alone, The Girl from Woolworths was a special film.

  First National Pictures produced this 60-minute musical as a showcase for up-and-coming actress Alice White. In The Girl From Woolworths, Miss White portrayed the character of Daisy, a singing clerk in the music department of a Woolworth store. One day, lovely, talented Daisy meets handsome Bill Harrigan at a subway, and they both fib about the nature of their real jobs. Harrigan invites Daisy to dinner at the fabulous Mayfield Club, where the owner promptly offers Daisy a job as an entertainer there. Daisy is ecstatic, but Bill is jealous; he wants her all to himself. In the end, Daisy forgoes her career for the love of her life.

  This issue of Movie Magazine, 1930, offers a double treat for Woolworth nostalgia buffs. Above: The cover features Alice White, who starred in The Girl from Woolworth’s and inside, here, is a rare telegraph from singer Al Jolson, who frequented the fomed Hollywood Woolworth’s.

  The reviews for The Girl From Woolworths were mixed. The sets were hailed for their splendor, but the script itself fell short of expectations. The audience did like several of the songs, such as “Crying for Love” and “What I Know About Love.” Whatever the reviews, The Girl From Woolworths is yet another testimony to just how much the Woolworth’s five-and-dimes had become part of America’s lifestyle by the 1920s.

  A study of The American Film Institutes’ Catalog of Feature Films uncovers a number of other pre-Depression movies which featured five-and-dime themes. In October 1927, United Artists released My Best Girl, a thirty-five-minute silent featuring actress Mary Pickford. My Best Girl was the Cinderella tale of a struggling five-and-ten counter girl who falls in love with the owner’s son. Five and Ten Cent Annie arrived a year later, starring Louise Fazenda, Clyde Cook, and William Demerest in a slapstick comedy about a street cleaner who is head-over-heels for a lovely dimestore salesgirl. In the end, the girl gets her man, and the fortune he inherits from his rich uncle, but not before several perilous adventures.

  Cast members Alice White, Charles Delaney, and Rita Flynn

  Another Mary Pickford movie that offers up a bit of historical “Wooley” interest is Poor Little Rich Girl. This was one of the very first silent flickers to use a visual backdrop to give the illusion of a location shot. For Poor Little Rich Girl (1917), a doll-sized backdrop of a Main Street city block was created, complete with an F. W. Woolworth’s 5 & 10. (Ironically, “poor little rich girl” was the same phrase used to define Frank Woolworth’s infamous granddaughter, Barbara Hutton in later years.)

  All such films capture a part of the Woolworth’s tale for posterity. Since F. W. Woolworth’s was the first, the largest, and the most famous five-and-dime store of all time, it is likely that even the generic dimestore movie depictions called on F. W. Woolworth’s for inspiration.

  The Woolworth’s Medley: Sheet Music, Ragtime, and “The Woolworth March”

  The moving picture industry underwent great strides during the 1920s, thirties, and forties. Production techniques became increasingly sophisticated until all the silent flickers were replaced with talkies. Elaborate musical sound scores and dance scenes became the norm, spawning big screen singing stars and a surplus of movie gossip magazines. All of this had a direct effect on the type of products that F. W. Woolworth’s carried in its stores, and which trends the company followed in its quest for the billion-dollar sales mark. Along with celebrity photos, memorabilia, and Hollywood magazines, F. W. Woolworth’s cashed in on the post-1910 popularity of sheet music, and later, into the phonograph album craze.

  Actually, nickel and dime sheet music made its Woolworth’s debut surprisingly early in the game, late in 1886. During that period, the chief still only owned eight stores (a far cry from the thousands of Red-Fronts operated during the company’s heyday) and was showing gross sales of about $100,000 per year. He’d recently moved his offices from Lancaster, Pennsylvania, to New York City and designed the famous Red “W” logo. His stock in trade was still tin pans and sewing notions, but inspired by his love of music, he decided to test out sheet music in several of his Red-Fronts. Four years later, he experimented with the concept of selling sheet music through direct mail. This was F. W. Woolworth’s first foray into mail order, and although the idea didn’t take off at the time, it opened the floodgates for the company’s future catalog business.

  Frank’s managers were not particularly keen on selling sheet music. They kept trying to tell him that this was a “sticker” item which only sold when a particularly hot song, such as “The Band Played On” or “After the Ball” caught the fancy of the masses. Eventually, Frank was forced to agree with them and he dropped sheet music from the Approved Manager’s Buying List in 1893. One notable exception to this rule occurred in 1896, when demand for “The Merry Widow Waltz” reached such proportions that even Frank’s skeptical managers agreed that it was one of the year’s “must-sell” items.

  In the meantime, Frank indulged his love for music elsewhere by commissioning his own composition called “The Woolworth March.” Designed for full-orchestra, the march bearing the King of the Five-and-Dime’s name was first played in 1900 during his New York city store premier, then played on throughout the next two decades, from coast to coast, whenever he was hosting a special event. (An updated centennial version was composed in 1979.)

  Around 1910-11, the public became enamored with a new form of music called ragtime. Ragtime was not just listening music, it was lively foot-tapping music, and in response, Frank installed a pipe organ in his new Fifth Avenue Red-Front. Tunes like Alexander’s Ragtime Band vastly entertained his Manhattan customers but Woolworth wanted them to empty their pocketbooks as well, and it bothered him that his organ player was not increasing sales for any particular item. It seemed a merchandising natural to connect live music with the sale of sheet music, but he needed to figure out how to do it.

  Frank muddled over this dilemma for a while, and finally came up with an exciting, novel idea. He hired piano players and singers to perform in his larger stores—not just during grand openings, but all of the time. He surrounded them with displays full of colorful, ten-cent sheet music and folios, and instructed them to play or sing any given sheet music tune a customer requested. The idea caught on and Frank once again made mercantile history. Sheet music was placed back on the “Approved Buying List” in 1911.

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nbsp; Soon, sheet music was selling like hotcakes. His customers purchased vocals, galops, love songs, and hymns by the thousands. The music section of Woolworth’s rapidly expanded to include accessories such as music stands, metronomes, and small instruments. Aside from ragtime, one of the biggest boon of all was the growing availability of affordable phonographs. Consequently, in 1915 alone, F. W. Woolworth’s sold 20 million sheets of music and over 5 million phonograph records. Those numbers more than tripled by 1917, with “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” alone selling 2.6 million copies. That same year, patriotic tunes like “Over There” and “Hunting the Hun” were added to the roster of Woolworth’s best-sellers.