Right Where We Live - 7. Chapter 6: A Merry Little Christmas Now

Chapter 6: A Merry Little Christmas Now

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[1]

RIGHT COMBINATION!

A little bird told us that Joe James, our Third Floor reporter from the Sorority House Shop, played Santa at the inaugural party of the American Legion Famous-Barr Memorial Post. Certainly Joe has the right personality . . . and the right build . . . to be a kracking good Kris Kringle.[2]

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Second Childhood?

When the snow was deepest, we heard that Bill Rosenstein (Spring Avenue Warehouse) was seen coasting 'Belly Bustin' style down the steepest part of Art Hill in Forest Park. All that creakin' heard around the warehouse ever since are just poor Bill's joints payin' the price.[3]

★  ★  ★

Family Feel

Our One Big Famous Family is known far and wide, because, even as a large organization, we maintain the intimacy of a smaller business. Take for example a recent report from our Mail Order Department. Fresh requests have come in from California, from such famous personages as Billie Burke and Olivia de Havilland. It seems Billie ordered in a fresh stock of Famous Chocolate-Covered Cherries as gifts, and Olivia just had to have our holiday Toyland catalogue. Yep, folks, Famous-Barr is the place to shop . . . even Hollywood types know that!

★  ★  ★

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It was barely noon and already Betty felt exhausted. Saturday, December 22nd: the last day of shopping and open stores meant long lines and harried staff.

The morning had started one hour before opening for most employees – two or three for some – but not to boost sales, or talk last-minute marketing technique. No, this company threw a holiday party for every department – 5,800 people served cake, cookies, Tom and Jerry, eggnog and fruit punch. After which they were handed bonus checks with smiles and 'Well done!' handshakes, ending the party by exchanging gifts with one another.

The entire beehive buzzed with laughter and a riot of Christmas merriment this morning, while Betty on the Beat had popped in on a dozen parties or so to get the scoop, and see some happenings for herself.

Famous was family, and after witnessing mornings like these, Betty Higginbotham seriously wondered about ever wanting to leave it.

She was in a crowded Elevator No. 31 heading up to the Ninth Floor. The Welfare Association had not only hired the aspiring authoress and socialite socialist to be editor-in-chief of Store Chat, but also as store historian. In this role, Betty thought she better see and jot down details of Christmas 1945 for an official report.

Why go back up to Santaland? She had seen it the week of Thanksgiving, and then again the Sunday the store hosted parties and shows for thousands of kids, but there was something luring her back. Perhaps she was getting sentimental as her youth aged, or maybe a Saint Charles Street Patter report from her colleague, Marylou Dougherty, stirred a desire to revisit this year's display.

Pardon Me . . . But some of the mannequin and papier-mâché models used in this year's store displays are too good to be believed. If you don’t credit us, just ask Jemma Martin (Switchboard 'Plugger'). She bumped into one fine Victorian-looking lady this morning, lowered her head and begged pardon in the most old fashioned of ways. The 'dummy' acted dumb and said nothing in return. Poor Miss Martin, snubbed by plaster and paint.[4]

A stream of older ladies got off at the Sixth Floor, no doubt heading to the ceramic-tile floors of Famous-Barr's main restaurant.

Younger ladies got onboard, and immediately told Yvonne Walcott, the elevator operator, they were headed to the City of Beauty Shop on Nine to get dolled up for their soldier boy friends' arrival on Monday – the day before Christmas.

The thought of a happy reunion, and the sequestered holiday which would follow for those young ones in love, with good cheer, and a good cozy fire, and not much else, was just as much a part of this year's season as anything.

Another entry in this week's Store Chat – the one featuring the second 'Christmas 1945' cover – said it all pretty well.

Many thanks from us on the

Eight Floor, where Toyland

Riots and boisterous

Rovings are nearly done for the year.

Yes, not even

Xavier Cugat (whew, an X) could distract

Multitudes of shoppers on a mission.

All will soon be bought and sold,

So, we wish you a Merry Little Christmas.[5]

Elevator No. 31 slowed, the doors gracefully pulled back and the ladies stepped out.

"Thanks, Yvonne," Betty said, exiting with a warm smile for the operator.

"You're welcome, Miss Betty – and by the way – we all think this week's newsletter is fantastic. Maybe the best one ever."

Betty would have said more, would have tried to hide her unbecoming flush of pride, but the flow of on-boarding kids merrily clutching their souvenir Santa Books, and their happy-but-tired parents made further comment by the Store Chat editor unproductive. Instead, she held her hand aloft and nodded respectfully with a smile.

Betty turned, and instantly got swept up in the festive atmosphere of the Ninth Floor. To her left were chatting ladies waiting out hair appointments in the open area before the City of Beauty suite of salons.

But, as she slowly turned on her heels and extracted the pencil from behind her ear to take notes on her ever-ready steno pad, the magic portal to Santaland waited.

A gazebo-like gateway was glowing with roof tiles dusted in mica snow, and had its foundations buried in flowing drifts of cotton batting. Beyond was a three-quarter-sized recreation of 5135 Kensington Avenue – the Movieland version of where Meet Me in Saint Louis had taken place.[6]

She stepped inside and let her sharp reporter senses adjust to the lower light level.

Set up as a meandering queue of motion, music and entertainment for the visitors to Santa, it followed the course of the film throughout the year leading up to the 1904 World's Fair.

Every season was represented, although winter and the preparations for Christmas occupied half of the display, and was naturally saved for last.

Betty started the course, letting herself be absorbed by the moment. Children watched the animated figures with silent awe – an awe frequently broken by a full-throated question to their parents of: "Did you see that?!"

As spring passed into summer, and Judy Garland boarded her immortal streetcar ride, Betty made a few notes.

• Life-size figures in motion.

• Beautifully painted faces and hands, and real clothing of the old-time variety, some of it starched in position to show wind blowing, or a general flurry of movement.

• The Display Department really outdid themselves this year!

As Betty continued to jot impressions for posterity, a small glimmer of thought pressed itself forward, namely, how Voin had outdone himself too with next week's column. It was simple and direct, but spoke to the heart via logic and hope. Speaking as it did of momentum and the spirit of change, it was just right for this time and place, and so was the second holiday cover.

Gary in the Art Department, with Betty's suggestions, had worked the perfect image. A night-blue sky with pinpoints of stars arched over a fore field covered deep in white. In the background stood a village of snowy roofs and a church steeple. Windows glowed warmly with an amber light.

All was tranquil – finally, after years and years of war, destruction, death – a dove of peace descended. Placed in the center of the cover, the beautifully rendered bird raised its wings to slowly land grasping a twig of holly in its beak, while over its head shone the brightest star of them all. The star of peace.

The only text on the artwork was 'Christmas 1945' and the name of the periodical. Betty's heart glowed to know she played a part in bringing it to life.

As the Store Chat editor moved on to view the delightful autumn part of the Santaland display, she chuckled to see Tootie – Judy Garland's young sister in the movie – made up as a hobo for her Halloween costume.

It turned out the book's author, Sally Benson, was none other than the passionate little girl who does not want to leave her life in Saint Louis in any way.

Miss Benson began publishing Meet Me in Saint Louis serially in The New Yorker Magazine, and soon was writing a version for Broadway. Hollywood came knocking, and then to crown her entire success, she was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in literature.

What a whirlwind of success, and the knot in Betty's chest was unabashedly jealous. But, hopeful too. If a woman like the 'Tootie' of the story could publish and change the world for the better, so could Betty the aspiring novelist.

She had taken the job at Store Chat thinking she would only half-engage with the people here and have plenty of time to work on her book. The reality proved more complex, for she did have the time to delve into her novel, but Store Chat meant more to her now than she could have ever imagined; meant more to her precisely because of the people. This company was family, and somehow Betty had become the oddball aunt everybody knew and respected because she had her finger on the pulse of everybody else's business.

As she walked along, she allowed her acceptance to be less and less grudging. She could happily stay at the store, even if her novel never got published, and she never got famous. In this regard, the fact of Sally Benson's Meet Me in Saint Louis achieving success on the page, on Broadway, and then in a Technicolor film – all in only three years – upset her. It happened to be the same amount of time Betty's been at the Store Chat desk, and she doubted very much The Prize commissioners read it.

She paused midstream in her course with a sobering thought. As she regarded the way Judy Garland's character comforted Tootie after her All Hallows' Eve bonfires and frights, Betty wondered, 'Will anybody in the future read my Store Chats; will anyone ever think my work is witty and charming in years to come?'

She inhaled a deep breath and resolved that whether they did or didn't, what mattered was her Family read and appreciated it here and now. She had to be content for what it meant to Famousites week to week, right now. How many and wonderful were the letters from service men and women who were grateful to have this piece of home with them.

Betty Higginbotham might not stay at Famous-Barr forever, but she would always be a Famousite at heart.

She moved on to the winter part of the display, and like the Corner Window downstairs, waltz music lilted overhead to lighten the spectator's step.

More delightful vignettes followed as the ladies got ready for the Christmas ball, and love was in the air from Judy Garland for the handsome neighbor boy.

'And what of love?' Betty silently mused. The 'love' she so frequently observed and reported on from and about others of her family? 'Well, after my first novel is published, I might slow down and look around. But for right now, this socialist socialite is having too much fun with her independence!'

From the wonderful ballroom scene, the action moved to Tootie's bedroom. She waited up – well past midnight – to speak with the holiday Big Man himself. The little girl feared there was no way Santa Claus could find them in New York! And besides, everybody knew cramped Manhattan apartments had no fireplaces, unlike their cozy Saint Louis abode.

This was the moment in the film where Judy Garland tells her sibling not to fret over a future we cannot control, but sings the song and the message of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas Now.

And it was true, but not enough to assuage the young girl's fears and anger.

Betty stepped to the next part of the display and related to Tootie. Here, the Display Department had recreated all of the girl's movie snow people down to the smallest detail – including a fur wrap for the gossipy neighbor woman.[7]

The display in Santaland caught the last moment before Tootie knocked them all over with words on her lips about how New York was the bad guy – the big heartless bully – destroying their lives; 'You can't do anything there like you can in Saint Louis!' If she, Tootie said, cannot enjoy her snow people, then no one would.

And in Betty's heart, she agreed. The final scene of the film came to mind. The glorious moment when the relocation to New York was just a bad memory, and the Fair – The World's Greatest Fair – was opening in the spring of 1904. Judy Garland gazed at the wonders and had a homespun moment of awe.

It's all 'Right here, right where we live.' That's what matters.[8]

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Voin's View

Christmas time is always a challenge. The store is bursting at the seams with shoppers, and we are stressed and pushed to the limits of endurance. But we pull together, and we get through the challenges, together. As an example of 'above and beyond' the call of duty, we heard this week how Bethany Gowen and Jake Hemslock (both of Toyland) pushed a truckload of toys all the way from the warehouse, through the Tunnelway, and into the processing room on the Eighth Floor. They chipped in and turned up their sleeves, knowing they were doing it so others would benefit. They did their part.

Well, we have a little over 360 days to get ready for next Christmas and the new challenges we cannot even imagine. We will be ready for them. Yes, because we are Famousites through and through. We can lead our industry and our city to ever-fairer fields of honor and equality. We roll up our sleeves when a task is at hand, and we all do our part knowing it's to help our fellow man and woman have an easier time in life.

Will you be ready by Christmas 1946 and the changes about to confront us? We will have three branch stores soon, thousands of new folks, and we must be prepared to see surprising faces stepping up to bat – but, it's their turn. With our support and encouragement, they will do us proud and carry the banner of 'Store For All The People' into the decades to come.

Please encourage them.

Remember: Progress springs not from the job we've done, but from the work yet begun.[9]

– Voin Reinhardt

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Wearing his blue and red Saint Louis Stars pajamas, robe and slippers, Reed Johnson tiptoed downstairs on Christmas morning.

He was quiet, for it was early and he did not want to wake his mom and grandma.

Getting down to the landing, he walked carefully into the living room, heading for the coffee table.

He knelt and felt his heart race – his plate of chocolate drop cookies and glass of milk for Santa had been touched. A pair of his fingers came out and pressed crumbs, which were brought up to his mouth for a taste.

Reed jumped to his feet and walked to the fireplace. On the side nearest the tree was a switch at the outlet. He bent over, depressed it, and their family tannenbaum came to life with light and subtle movement from the tinsel. Wrapped presents in holiday paper and mounds of frilly ribbon had proliferated overnight.

The boy's hand came out as he walked along the front of the mantelpiece and idly felt the heavy bottom of each filled stocking.

'Later,' he thought; now he had a destination, one that excited him even more.

The young man switched on the lamp and admired Duffy's Advent calendar. He recalled the Captain's words about not knowing what's behind the each door, but not to be afraid.

He opened the largest pair of doors – the ones center bottom, between the lady columns. It said: "Merry Christmas from Famous and Barr Co."

Reed heard a noise. He glanced and saw a shadow retreat on the other side of the glass door behind Olive's lace curtain. Before he could stop himself, a murmur of "Santa…?" escaped his lips.

He flew to the door and ripped it open. Besides the blast of Christmas morning cold, the first thing he noticed was a large box with a satin ribbon sitting on the doormat. The second thing he noticed was Mr. Voin Reinhardt in overcoat and gloves about to descend their porch steps.

The man halted his retreat and turned surprised eyes on the boy.

"Mr. Voin…? I thought you were Santa."

The Store Chat columnist came back across the porch so he could speak in a lower voice. "No, Reed. But I did bring you a present." He gestured to the box. "However, when your grandmother sees what's inside, you better say Old Saint Nick brought it for you."

Reed was confused. "How come?"

Voin laid a finger in the side of his nose. "Don’t want to get me in trouble, do you?"

The boy vehemently shook his head, then suddenly remembered the good news. "Did you hear? My mommy is starting a new job on Wednesday selling makeup. She says she's so happy and excited."

Voin told him through a grin, "She'll go far. I have no doubts, Reed."

An indistinct and muffled sound arose from somewhere. For a moment, Reed thought Voin's tummy had growled, but then….

The boy slowly dropped to sit on his shins, the box between his knees. Reed glanced up, and he couldn't be sure, but it seemed Voin was looking at the silver star atop their tree.

The moment the boy set his open palms on the sides of the box, a whine came from within it.

Reed tore off the lid, and a golden-yellow cocker spaniel puppy wearing an enormous red bow stuck his head out. The boy scooped the dog into his arms and dissolved into giggles as the pup licked his face.

What the lad could not have known, is that Voin Reinhardt was indeed looking at the tinfoil star and speculating it had an extra twinkle of approval in it.

The young man, laughing and knocked back on his seat in joy, was accosted by pure love – a love that sees no arbitrary element like race, age, gender – or who a person loves. It's divine.

Reed grabbed securely onto his wiggling dog and clambered to his feet. He sidestepped the empty box and hugged Voin's midsection, pressing the puppy against both of them.

"Merry Christmas, Santa Claus."

Voin stroked the lad's head.

"Merry Christmas, son, from your father."

~