Wini and the King of Someplace - 1. I. Part 1 – Spring/Summer 1912 Chapter 1: One of Our Own

Wini and

the King of Someplace

Christmas at Famous-Barr 1913

A Novella

By

AC Benus

Contents

Part 1 – Spring/Summer 1912

I. Chapter 1: One of Our Own

II. Chapter 2: Lunch at the Chili Parlour

Part 2 – Autumn/Winter 1912

III. Chapter 1: "He's dumb, Miss Barrett"

IV. Chapter 2: The Buster Brown Boy

Part 3 – Spring/Summer 1913

V. Chapter 1: Holy Image

VI. Chapter 2: A Confessional Stroll Down to the River

Part 4 – Autumn/Winter 1913

VII. Chapter 1: Ribbon-Cutting and a Boy's Shoebox

VIII. Chapter 2: From the Both of Us

Cover Art: Famous-Barr postcard from 1912.

I. Part 1 – Spring/Summer 1912

Chapter 1: One of Our Own

Saint Louis, Mo.

Friday, April 19, 1912

Dearest Mother,

Oh, the news is worse than dreadful. My hands tremble a bit as I type this, but I'm sure you have been following the newspapers, and the horrendous loss of life aboard the Titanic. The events are sadly well known by all, and yet the tragedy has suddenly become very personal.

My job in Saint Louis to help these two companies merge harmoniously is stressful enough at the moment, and then word came in our weekly meeting this afternoon that Henry Samuels was recovered from the icy waters. We've lost one of our own, as the dead man was Ladies' Fashion Buyer for William P. Barr & Company in Paris.

The atmosphere in the office is one of sheer upset. No one dares say it aloud, but the mere fact Mr. Samuels was summoned back to town to attend the series of 'adjustment meetings' for all the management staff raises guilt. He was rushing home to Saint Louis and booked passage on the doomed ship. If the order had not been given for him to come back, he would still be alive, in Paris, and safe with his family.

Oh, it breaks my heart, dear Mother. Breaks my heart. Why do bad things happen to good people, and the Barr people assure me Mr. Samuels was very good indeed. A father to three, a caring husband to a lovely French wife. Oh, Mother, I know you do not have answers, but still I am human and can ask why bad things happen to people who do not deserve them.

Well, I better change the subject while I can. That is, before my tears start rusting the typewriter keys in place; that would get me nowhere fast.

I enjoyed your last letter, and hearing how the ground is thawed in Pittsburgh now, and it's delightful to imagine your garden will soon be in bloom again. If I am honest with you, and with myself for that matter, sometimes I suffer severe bouts of homesickness. Your letters help, but naturally make me long for a settled life with you again.

What helps me as well is knowing I have a chance to assist here. I don’t remember if I told you last time or not, but they have settled on a title for me. Now...I say jokingly...you may address my correspondence to the Marquette Hotel as "Miss Winifred Barrett, Integration Consultant, Famous and Barr Company."

I know; I can see your expression. It's a mouthful! But it does give an accurate description to the staff here of what I am tasked to do. What the title cannot say, and which I have been finding myself explaining a dozen times a day, is that I am from Boggs & Buhl in Pittsburgh, and was liked for my work in smoothing the way last year when The May Company – for whom Famous-Barr is the flagship enterprise – took over. In case you're wondering, Mr. May likes keeping the name and history of the company's department-store units alive and thriving. "Can't buy history" I've heard him say on more than one occasion with his soft and gentlemanly German accent.

In any event, I hope to live up to Mr. May's expectation in the twelve months I am here.

In closing for today, I will tell you a new piece of information I recently learned. This company is progressive, and maintains a hundred-fifty-acre resort for the exclusive and free use of its staff to promote 'health, fitness and welfare.' I've been hearing wonderful things about it, as with the warming weather, many people around here are making plans to visit it for a few days. It's partly wooded, and partly under the plow for natural grains and produce, and there are cabins and bungalows of many sizes. It fronts the Meramec River and the pictures of boaters and swimmers make it look truly delightful. My closing comment on the resort will be to tell you it even has its own train station!

I know I will be busy, because the new store building is scheduled to open in less than a year now, but hopefully I will be able to send a first-hand report on this "Famous Farm."

If you see my brother and his wife sometime soon, please say 'Hello' to them from me. Well, to Maggie for sure...my brother...either way. You know he and I seldom see eye-to-eye, and speaking of which, I have been writing my nephew Thomas and receiving glowing accounts of his college life in Boston. He seems to love it there. Well, I suppose he would; he's away from his father.

Well, dear Mother, for now, this will have to do.

Please take care of yourself.

Your affectionate daughter,

Winifred

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Saint Louis, Mo.

Wednesday, May 1, 1912

Dear Thomas,

Your grandmother sends her love, but I know she writes you too, so perhaps she wants you to receive double doses. Now, don't make that face, which I can see even from here – the one that looks like you've just been invited to swallow a twofold shot of cod liver oil. Smile, young man! You'll look more appealing to the young ladies if you do.

Thank you for your message, and I do so love to receive updates on your engineering program. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology sounds like a place where brains and rationality rule. That's more of what America needs, that and mechanical engineers like you will be. Keep up the good work.

Since you have a natural interest in the subject, I thought I'd feed you occasional reports on how the construction of the Railroad Exchange Building is going. I was not surprised to learn from you that it is well known and being talked about. It's not everyday the largest commercial structure in the world is being built, and I'm happy to be 'an eye witness,' as you put it, to its progress. Right now the steel frame is up to about the fifteenth floor, and they are following pretty closely behind with the terracotta façade and windows. They have the sidewalks blocked off and traffic is slow all around the construction site, but I must say the remarkable ivory color of the exterior rising above the dull mesh enclosure of the construction fence is very, very striking. The whole city is abuzz about the size and grandeur of the building, so it's nice to know even some in Boston are talking about it too. It will be a wonderful addition to our growing nation.[1]

In your letter you asked me what it's like to work here compared to my own store, and I'll simply say my position is none too enviable.

Sure, I've worked since I was eighteen at Boggs & Buhl – for eleven years now – and I like a challenge, but this job is a task and a half! The blending of two different work cultures is daunting. Barr's people, of whom there are a great deal more, are proud and protective of their sixty-plus years of being the 'biggest and best.' I'm afraid there is a bit of looking down on the Famous folks as ready-to-wear upstarts. The sudden death of Mr. Barr in 1908 threw his staff into turmoil, and they very much doubted the great man's ambitious plans would continue. My chief weapon is to point out to them how Mr. May is not only completing the Railroad Exchange project, but giving Mr. Salomon, who is Superintendent of Famous-Barr, carte blanche to see to it that every detail is 'perfect.' Perfect means no expense spared, and I work closely with both May and Salomon to make sure the Barr staff have their opinions heard.

Write this down and file it away for use later, Thomas, but marriages are hard – not that I'd know in real life. Well, anyway you know what I mean.

Speaking of which, how are your mother and father? I know you don’t really speak to your pater, as I try to avoid that as well, but I'm sure your mother keeps you abreast of his moods and whims.

I encountered an ornery one here at the store, one who put me in mind of my dear brother, your father, so let me tell you.

His name is Mr. McIntire, and he's the manager of the Delivery Department. I introduced myself one recent afternoon and explained my duties. He curtly said the Barr people in his employ were doing what he told them, so they were fine and didn’t need 'bothering.' As I was wondering why the man, who I'd say is about thirty-five, slender and a bit wiry, did not invite me into his office to tell me to vamoose, I concluded it must have been for the benefit of the men and youth working on the loading dock where he had me standing around.

As I tried to collect myself, an unexpected sight appeared. A young boy, who is about eight years old, came up to McIntire and asked what his next task of the day was. His boss directed him to a mountain of empty cardboard boxes and told him to "Break those down."

Later on I discreetly inquired of a coworker in the office who the blonde-haired waif could be, as he's the only child I have seen working on the premises, and Famous is not the kind of place to exploit child labor. I learned he's an orphan, and that somehow the institution where the boy is being raised approached McIntire – or the other way 'round – about getting this 'Bauer' gainful employment. I don’t know why this child is not in school, but I shall find out.

Well, I'm afraid that's about all the ink from my typewriter ribbon I can spare you today. In conclusion, I will say I'm very happy for you. With the ending of the school year coming in a few weeks, I know you were concerned about going back to Pittsburgh and 'him.' I think it's perfectly wonderful your friend has invited you to spend a "Bohemian Summer" at the end of Cape Cod. I've always heard Provincetown, Mass., is lovely and would love to visit it myself. Your friend sounds like a fine young man, and I hope you have fun together.

Oh well, there's no thought of vacation for me. I have a job to do first!

Your doting aunt,

Wini

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1912

Sunday, May 12th

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Marquette Hotel, Saint Louis, Mo.

Dear Diary,

I am troubled again, but you are used to absorbing my woes, so I needn't fear your judgment. Some mornings I wake up in my modest hotel room, look around and wonder how I got to this unfamiliar spot. Other times, I leap out of bed determined to 'suck the marrow out of the bone,' or 'paint the town red,' or 'live life to the fullest' – or such other clichés as strike my fancy at the moment.

In reality, I sit in my hotel room, pen in hand and commit my sorrows to paper hoping the look of them will be enough to absolve my 'sin' of self-doubt. In this day and age, a career woman like me cannot be seen in public wondering where her life is going, so you, dear page and journal of my thoughts, must bear the brunt of my troubles in private.

However, as I say, sometimes I am filled with the vigor of my task, and this Friday I 'screwed my courage to the post' and did it.

I announced my big idea for global company integration, and placed the fate of my job in their hands.

Picture it, the paneled boardroom with its long mahogany table, seated around which were the distinguished men of business. Between their fingers or lips slowly smoked stogies, and all eyes narrowed and trained on me standing at the end nearest the door.

"What we need," I proposed, "is company cohesion. An ironclad reason for our gifted and experienced staff not to jump ship to our competition, which, let's face it, is abundant and formidable in the Saint Louis marketplace."

A chorus of grunts rounded the table in grudging acknowledgement that the fourth largest city in the U.S. was indeed a retailer's paradise, plus a den of cutthroat business practices.

"And what do you have in mind?" one of the beady-eyed bean counters asked. He had set down his cigar and was leaning expectant elbows on the tabletop.

Here it was – I knew my idea was not cheap.

"I propose, sirs, this company create an employee-run mutual benefits society."

That got their attentions. Mouths went agape around the table, smokes became forgotten, and spines stiffened.

I explained: "This association would be an extension of our existing progressive edge, vis-à-vis the Famous resort, etcetera, and make us shine further in the retailing industry as a whole. I envision this society being an independent, self-governing body with board members elected by the employees. Staff and store contributions would be used to create a budget to provide wages while sick, pension funds, vacation pay, operate a café and lending library, even hire a nurse and doctor to be on site."

"Miss Barrett, what you propose is not inexpensive," said Mr. Roscoe, Chief Financial Officer.

"Sir, my thinking is this: size is our friend in this instance. We have several thousand employees. If each is asked to donate a small amount – on a graded scale so all can participate, say from 10¢ a month upwards – then the staff will contribute the lion's share of the operating expenses. This will also reinforce the feeling of the Association being theirs. On the other hand, the employees also need to know the company cares about their welfare, so perhaps 25% of the society's funding can be matching donations from Famous-Barr."

"I don't know…" drew out Mr. Roscoe in a slow rat-a-tat. "Sounds pricy."

I addressed the entire table. "It won't be free, sirs, but it will more than pay for itself by increasing staff retention, loyalty, and happy customers because FB sales folks will be proud to represent such a progressive organization."

There was now open grumbling from the moneymen, which only ended as they noticed Mr. May at the far end of the boardroom from me lean forward; Mr. Salomon was seated to his right.

May's ineffable German way of speaking rolled across the table between the now-silent executives.

"Miss Barrett, have I ever told you how Eagle Stamps operated at a loss for several years when it first started?"

"No, sir." I was slightly confused, but I knew he was referring to an independent venture he and his partners had set up to reward customer loyalty with stamps – a discount for paying cash earned the stickers, and full booklets of them could be redeemed for either money or goods. Many stores across the U.S. now gave and accepted Eagle Stamps. It was a huge success, a true innovation, and apparently Mr. May's personal idea.

"Well, young lady, it's true. For seven long years the Eagle Stamp Company operated at a loss on the books, but it always succeeded at its higher purpose. Of giving people reasons to be loyal. Just as we reward shoppers' fidelity, so should we support and promote the overall welfare of our employees."

Grousing ceased.

The president glanced at Salomon, who had a slight 'look what the cat swallowed' grin.

Mr. Salomon rose to his feet. "Who here agrees in principle with the creation of a 'Welfare Association' for Famous-Barr staff to operate, and for permission for Miss Barrett to draw up a detailed proposal? Ayes – raise your hands."

All hands lifted in concert, albeit a few bean-counting ones did so rather slow and reluctantly.

"Motion carried," Salomon announced.

Now, Dear Dairy, I have my work cut out for me!

Oh, I don’t know; sometimes I'm up and sometimes I'm down. How much is due to homesickness, to missing Mother and the familiar? Perhaps time will tell me more, but for now, there is no reason I should not be proud of my professional accomplishments.

More tomorrow, for bed calls and Monday morning will be here sooner than I know.

P.S. I found out the child is actually named Arnold Bauer, but for some reason is treated like an adult in the armed services – thus 'Bauer' is how he is known. Perhaps this has to do with his institutional upbringing. I also learned that the lad is slow, and was withdrawn from class as a 'hopeless case.' Mother, as a veteran of schoolrooms, knows there is no such thing, only a key to unlocking learning potential. More later.

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