Remembering Woolworth’s

by Karen Plunkett-Powell

  Woolworth Trivia

  In 1918 alone, a billion persons entered Woolworth’s stores and over 820,000,000 bought goods.

  “The Smells of Woolworth’s”

  by Elizabeth Larrabee Woolworth’s was not an empire inherited by a debutante named Barbara. It was a thousand distinct aromas.

  Lily of the Valley and Johnson’s hard floor wax whammed your nostrils upon the in-swing of the glass door.

  Hot chocolate sauce at the fountain. Over-ripe bananas disguised in strawberry smothered splits. A stack of on sale percale house dresses assaulted from the left while freshly inked comic books invaded your senses from racks placed just right to extract the one nickel from your pocket. The nickel meant for the sweetness that exploded through thinly wrapped Necco Wafers.

  Tangee lipstick—THAT was Woolworth’s. A sniff of the orange, waxy stuff was enough to knock you out and that’s what you got for sticking your nose where it shouldn’t be.

  Back in 1911, the smallest Red-Front in America was located in peaceful Claremont, New Hampshire, which generated a sales volume of around $6,000 per year. (This, as opposed to Laconia, New Hampshire’s more tourist-oriented Red-Front, which boasted over $35,000.) By 1992, these figures had changed dramatically, with two of the chains “smallest” stores in Fond Du Lac, Wisconsin, and Jamestown, North Dakota, netting an average of $270,000 per year.

  The vast majority of American Red-Fronts fell into the “medium” category. They were usually located in towns or small cities which had a main thoroughfare, dotted with a full-range of retail stores, including several different dimestores. Their steady sales, although not astronomical, formed the “bread and butter” of the great F. W. Woolworth Co.

  TIME CAPSULE MEMORY

  “Woolworth’s Across the Country”

  I have been to Woolworth stores in many parts of the country. On F Street in Washington, D.C., the store was large, and the floors were sometimes wet from recent moppings with a big gray-curled mop, which looked like a badly made wig. In Newport, Rhode Island, I was there when Old Town still had wooden sidewalks in front of the store. The one in Honolulu, on the main street in Waikiki was a wonder of muumuus, straw hats, and sandals. And the one in old Honolulu, downtown, was close to the Aloha Tower. These stores looked slightly different, but they all had red signs with big gold lettering that said, Woolworth & Co., and old brass cash registers that clanged when a sale was rung up. The drawer would jerk open and the sales clerk would count out your change, and then you left, smiling, holding your five-and-dime treasure.

  —Elizabeth Contessa Heine

  Honolulu, Hawaii, store, 1950s

  These medium-sized establishments shared some of the qualities of the smaller stores. The local ambiance was still evident and the number of employees was still limited, which meant you probably knew most of them by name. In contrast to the smaller stores, though, the medium-sized Red-Fronts almost always had a food service area of some kind, offering a full menu of items for breakfast, lunch, and early dinner. When you walked into the store, the aromas of fried potatoes and eggs from the luncheonette area would mix with those of freshly-made popcorn from the candy center to create a heady (and memorable) sensory assault.

  More space also meant a wider variety of merchandise, which the managers frequently attempted to push via special sales and promotions. In the early days of the company, managers were encouraged to become involved with their communities, therefore, these medium-sized Red-Fronts were often sponsoring charity drives or participating in local holiday events. If you shopped at one of these Woolworth’s, you might also recall strolling toward the back of the store and checking out the latest additions to the pet department.

  TIME CAPSULE MEMORY

  “Woolworth in the News: DATELINE—March 4, 1949”

  “I remember the Woolworth’s in Charleston, West Virginia, for many reasons,” wrote Lynn Hartz. “The toys in the basement, and the paperback books … and the “rising stairs” [escalators]. But my most impressive memory of Woolworth’s was the tragic fire on March 4, 1949.”

  Ms. Hartz still recalls that horrible afternoon in March 1949, when she (only six years old) was walking home from school in Charleston, West Virginia, and noticed smoke coming from the downtown shopping district near Capital Street. Concerned, she hurried home and asked her mother what was happening. She was told that “the worst fire in Charleston’s history” was raging at the local Woolworth’s store. All day long, the fire raged on, with numerous citizens and firemen injured, and seven brave firemen killed in the line of duty. The papers reported that the fire had started in the basement and was not immediately detected. Along with loss of life, damages exceeded one million dollars. For residents of that particular West Virginia town, it was a day they would never forget, and a memory that would always be associated with their local five-and-dime.

  At the turn of the nineteenth century, stores such as those located in York, Pennsylvania; Trenton, New Jersey, and Newport, Rhode Island, were averaging annual sales of about fifty-thousand and enjoyed a steady flow of traffic. By the 1960s, medium-sized Red-Fronts such as in Freeport, Long Island, or Walla Walla, Washington, were generating hundreds of thousands in income for the company.

  The presence, and meaning, of these bustling Red-Fronts took on special significance in times of financial stress. The taxing years of the Great Depression, and of World Wars I and II, caused hardship for millions of people. It was during these periods when the old Woolworth’s dimestores shone brightest—at least in terms of Frank’s dream to offer the working class “so much, for so little.” The Woolworth chronicles are filled with stories of people who relied on the five-and-dimes to get through lean years. Shopping at Woolworth’s was often the only alternative for a struggling family who longed to have presents under the Christmas tree, or who needed to create durable, home-made garments from store-bought yarns and cottons.

  Along with affordable merchandise, Woolworth’s also provided much needed employment. During the 1930s and ’40s, many companies were forced to lay off people by the thousands—but not F. W. Woolworth’s. Along with wage slots filled by hard-working stockboys and counter girls, scores of jobs were available at Woolworth’s warehouses, and in the offices of the great Woolworth Building in New York. Several veterans also told me how grateful (and relieved) they were, to find their old jobs were still available when they returned from military service. For those who remained back home, the local luncheonette was the ideal place to gather together and discuss the war, or to seek solace for loved ones lost. In this day and age of instant communication, organized support groups, and of shopping malls located in even the most remote regions, it might be difficult to imagine a time when the local dimestore was a pivotal source of solace, humorous relief, and social activities. But it was. Donn Hornuk of Iowa captured the feeling of the old days perfectly in his personal account of the five-and-dime era:

  Our F. W. Woolworth store on Main Street, between Fifth and Sixth, here in Keokuk, Iowa, was gone by the early fifties, but I remember it well. Back in the thirties and forties, it filled an important spot in everyone’s life, farmers and townsfolk alike. Our Woolworth’s store was a great deal more than a five-and-ten. It was a gathering place, inside and outside, for friends who hadn’t seen each other for weeks. It was a social event where friends “ran into each other,” sometimes literally, under the two long rows of Casablanca fans that tried to cool that hot-as-Hades store during the summer. Lots of laughter, screams of delight, and hugging, lots of hugs and sometimes kissing, but just women did that. On the street in front of the Woolworth’s on Saturday night, groups of friends would “jaw” for fifteen or twenty minutes in all kinds of weather. Today, a senior citizen center occupies that building site. Woolworth’s not being there brings a dull and distant ache like missing a beloved friend, and it will never be like it used to be. They call it progress. But Woolworth’s was like a great mother hen and the customers her chicks.

  Following
World War II, the United States enjoyed a remarkable period of prosperity. In turn, the local Red-Fronts were ready to take advantage of their customer’s new expendable income by offering an unsurpassed variety of everyday necessities.

  The Five-and-Dimes of Tourist Centers and Big Cities

  Another type of Red-Front, which could fall into either small or medium category, were those based in tourist areas. These five-and-dimes had all the trappings of a typical bargain store paradise, with the additional perk of carrying an endless supply of souvenirs. If the store was located in an historical city, such as Richmond, Virginia, or Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, then these souvenirs were appropriately historic in nature.

  TIME CAPSULE MEMORY

  “The Atlantic City Boardwalk”

  One of my most vivid memories from the old Woolworth’s on the Atlantic City boardwalks was a brassy blond selling this wonderful product called VI-DE-LAN. Vi-De-Lan was a hair pomade made with lanolin and Vaseline. The lady, who had this really “poofy” hair, would put on “just a little bit” of the pomade, sometimes hundreds of times a day. Don’t know if the stuff made her hair so swell, or if it already was that way. We bought a jar of it and had it in the linen closet for years. After awhile, it separated and became amazingly gross. But of course we kept it anyway. After I tore myself away from Vi-De-Lan lady I went inside Woolworth’s for more goodies. The Red-Front in Atlantic City was the one where I bought my treasured ‘45’ record of Peter, Paul & Marys’ “Puff the Magic Dragon.”

  —Geoffrey S. Lapin

  The F. W. Woolworth Company often took extra care to make certain that the architecture of their Red-Fronts blended in with the local historical theme. Such was the case in Scottsdale, Arizona, known as “The West’s most Western town.” The upscale Scottsdale Woolworth’s sported an old-fashioned Western motif, right down to the wooden planked sidewalks.

  F. W. Woolworth stores operating near the ocean had an entirely different feeling than their suburban or city counterparts. Red-Fronts in the Virgin islands, the Caribbean, coastal Puerto Rico, and scenic southern California, offered a preponderance of beach towels, sun glasses and tanning lotion. When you walked across the floor, it always felt a bit “scratchy” from tracked-in sea sand, and the smell of salt water permeated the entire premises. One of the busiest, and oldest seaside Red-Fronts of all time was the one on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. During the peak tourist months from May to September, this five-and-dime was literally teeming with humanity. Since the dimestore was flanked by all manner of amusements (from spin-the-wheel games of chance to fortune-tellers) the managers of the Atlantic City Red-Fronts always needed to create their own form of competitive amusement. Hence, they featured puppet shows, ragtime bands, “authentic” salt-water taffy sales, and special promotions for products such as “singing Hula Hoops” and “magical” hair lotions. As far back as 1910, store number #104 on the boardwalk was reeling in $160,000 per season.

  Laramie, Wisconsin, Woolworth’s store.

  Each type of Woolworth’s store had its own ambiance, and in turn, generated its own type of nostalgia. But the big-city Red-Fronts were in a category all their own; the likes of which will surely never be seen again.

  The sheer size of a big-city Woolworth’s would be almost inconceivable to those who only shopped in small or modest-sized Red-Fronts. The actual variety, range, and amount of merchandise featured in the company’s banner stores was mindboggling. The first high-sales volume Woolworth’s stores opened long before the era of Wal-Mart, Sears, or even F. W. Woolworth’s own subsidiary, Woolco. Because of this, when one of these mega Red-Fronts debuted, it was a media bonanza. Frank Woolworth opened his first big-city five-and-dimes toward the end of the nineteenth century, in Washington, D.C., New York City, and Boston. From there, the company branched out to cities all over North America.

  These large scale Red-Fronts offered almost every type of utilitarian merchandise, as well as thousands of novelty and gift items. Imagine not one but three aisles of toys; party favors piled to the ceiling, rack displays of children’s clothing, including Buster Brown shoes and monogrammed baby blankets. Imagine as well, every conceivable kitchen gadget, bathroom accessory, and sewing notion housed under one roof. It was not unusual to see some type of musical or theatrical entertainment going on somewhere in the store, and colorful posters and placards announced special sales wherever one looked. Roaming the aisles of those particular dimestores was like wandering through a bazaar.

  One of the world’s largest Woolworth’s was in Denver, Colorado.

  Most of the big-city Red-Fronts featured multiple floors; in the early days these levels were connected by broad staircases, later by “electric steps” and modern elevators. Overhead automated air-tube systems sent money and messages flying from one part of the store to another, and during the summer, beautiful fans overhead cooled the masses. if a customer didn’t find anything she wanted on the first floor, it was almost a given she would find something on the next. One Chicago journalist pointed out that, “Woolworth’s stores made everybody feel so comfortable that they managed to sell them things they didn’t even know they needed until they walked in the door.” Most astonishing of all, perhaps, was the fact that until the mid-1930s, one could buy each of these items for a quarter or less.

  As the decades progressed, these stores retained their largesse, but the outdated Casablanca fans were replaced by electric air conditioners, and streamlined luncheonettes replaced the quaint and elegant Refreshment Rooms. What Woolworth’s lost to antiquity, it more than made up for in variety, especially in the food centers. One former district manager, John Compton, clearly recalled that most large downtown Red-Fronts were equipped with the popular lunch counters with their swiveling stools, as well as with pancake bars, delis, bakeries, fried chicken counters, pizza ovens, corn poppers, and nut cookers.

  Which Red-Front was the largest of all? At the turn of the twentieth century, the busiest store in the chain was located in Boston’s Scollay Square (now “Government Center”). In 1912, the highest sales volume store was located on State Street in Chicago. The first Chicago store had been originally opened by Seymour Knox (Frank Woolworth’s protégé) in the early 1900s and had been bringing in record sales ever since. Another Red-Front worth mentioning was the expansive, modernized site in Denver, Colorado. It had started out as a modestly sized five-and-dime in 1904, but by 1965 it was huge. So large, in fact, that postcards were issued proclaiming Denver’s Red-Front as the largest variety store in the world. By 1992, one of Honolulu’s Red-Fronts had earned the honor of the busiest store in the chain.

  In terms of the greatest number of stores operating in one city, both Chicago and New York were neck-and-neck. During the company’s variety store zenith, it operated more than 100 Red-Fronts in Chicago, most of them concentrated in the Loop and outlying middle-class neighborhoods. New York City and its five boroughs also had over 100 stores. In both cases, the stores ran the gamut from small storefronts on sidestreets to expansive sites on major thoroughfares. Wherever the subway took you in the Big Apple or the Windy City, there was a F. W. Woolworth nearby to feed your bargain-hunting fancy!

  Oh, Those Pet Departments!

  From coast to coast, some of the most nostalgic (and humorous) memories of all started in Woolworth’s famous pet departments. The general rule was: the larger the Red-Front, the larger the pet department. Due to most state health regulations, the pets had to be a certain distance away from food areas, which usually meant that living creatures were set up in the rear of the store.

  A July 17, 1997 Associated Press article pointed out that, “There are no statistics to prove it, but there may not be a baby boomer alive who didn’t once own a parakeet, turtle, goldfish, hamster, or baby chick bought there with piggy bank money—and later buried in the backyard or flushed down the toilet.”

  Both fish and fish toys like this one were best-sellers for decades.

  The Woolworth’s Pet Department

/>   TIME CAPSULE MEMORY

  “Talking to the Birds”

  The Woolworth’s in Fair Lawn, New Jersey had a wonderful pet department. The parakeets were near the rear entrance of the store, near the cashier. My mother always headed straight to the sewing aisle; I raced to the birds. I knew that no color of thread or cloth could ever be as beautiful as the blues and yellows of these skittering delights. The cashier would occasionally complain about the racket they made, but I knew they were just “talking.” So I talked back. I chirped, I tweeted, I whistled. And I was certain that the pretty blue one in the top cage was just begging for me to take him home. I passed his request to my mother. I pleaded, cajoled and promised to imitate the lives of the saints forever. Finally, she complied. For under six dollars, I had been able to do the impossible: buy happiness.