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HOLLENBECK: Sweet memory brings past to present |
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Monday, 07 April 2008 |
It might have been a scene in a movie, but I found myself mentally watching me, my lifetime friends Sandra and Sally and our three mothers lunching at the old downtown Goldsmith’s tea room in Memphis.
Store models were showing all the latest fashions while we dined on summer salads and chicken cacciatore and sipped iced tea and Coca-Colas at linen-clad tables.
I was sitting at my desk at work when this image occurred like the proverbial bolt out of the blue.
How many times did such an event actually occur? I wouldn’t venture a guess. Suffice it to say they were legion.
We’d go to Memphis for a day’s shopping, with downtown Goldsmith’s as our central location. We’d pull into the tunnel parking area and enter our favorite retail establishment at the basement level, passing by the bakery that showcased gorgeous wedding cakes (where one would be baked for my first nuptials several years hence) while en route to the real shopping sections.
Goldsmith’s was a Southern woman’s haven. Founded in Memphis in 1870 by German immigrant brothers Jacob and Isaac Goldsmith, the two got their start with a $500 investment by opening a dry goods store on a muddy lane — the notable Beale Street. From this humble venture grew a chain largely located in the Memphis metropolitan area until 2005 when the nameplate was eliminated and replaced by Macy’s.
One of the most popular slogans of the department store in its heyday was “Memphis’ Greatest Store.” If the marketing moguls hadn’t already called it that, my mother would have anyway because she LOVED Goldsmith’s. It was HER store and became part of “home” for those of us who lived in Northeast Arkansas and regularly traveled to that city for various important matters, shopping being not the least of these.
Another popular slogan for Goldsmith’s was “All About the South,” and it really was. Maybe Northern women (and men) shopped there at times, but it was Southern-grained in so many ways. Thinking about it reminds me of a phrase often espoused by the late Georgia-born-and-bred columnist Lewis Grizzard: “American by birth, Southern by the grace of God.”
In later years, we occasionally patronized some of Goldsmith’s other locations, particularly the Oak Court Mall store — but none captured the personality of the downtown store. When it came to Goldsmith’s, downtown was its heart and soul.
As little girls — and even later as teens — we “dressed up” for our shopping trips to Memphis. Our mothers, much of the time, even wore hats and gloves. For Sandra, Sally and me — and occasionally our friend, Anita, also would come along — it was fun to dress alike. Since we sang together in two choral groups, we had matching outfits, which we’d wear for some of these excursions.
We did this mainly for one reason — to attract attention. There’s no need in denying it, for by no stretch was this an exercise in modesty. Four teenage girls who weren’t too hard to look at could turn more than a few heads when they were dressed identically. (Southern females may appear demure, but there’s usually motive in their madness.)
This has nothing to do with shopping or Goldsmith’s nostalgia, but I do recall that it was one of these singing ensembles we wore the year we went to see Eddie Fisher perform at the Cotton Carnival in Memphis. My mother always enjoyed reminding us later on that we had had the choice of seeing Elvis Presley or Eddie Fisher — and we had chosen the latter. There’s no accounting for teenage taste.
In researching Goldsmith’s on the Internet, I learned that it was 1993 when the downtown store closed. This place that was so much a part of my childhood and youth and was still viable to me during the few years I lived in Memphis as a young matron now houses the Belz Museum of Asian and Judaic Art.
While I would have preferred a more Southern-oriented entity at the site — for no reason other than I just would — it’s nice to know it houses something of cultural value. It’s one block west of The Peabody, another treasured piece of my past, and it’s accessible from the Main Street trolley line. It’s also within walking distance of fine dining establishments, many delightful attractions on Beale Street and the elegant Orpheum Theatre, which housed the Malco Theatre during my youth and where I saw Robert Goulet for the last time when he played King Arthur in a touring company of Camelot.
One of Mamma’s favorite things about Goldsmith’s was its personal shopper. This was particularly true in her latter years when she was no longer the driver for the many she had chauffeured in earlier years.
She was on a near-friends basis with this individual, who would recognize her voice over the phone before she would give her name. I remember a conversation Mamma told me about in which she was ordering Christmas gifts for various relatives. Personal Shopper, knowing the family tree practically by heart, reminded her of one person she’d omitted.
“Mrs. Parnell, what about Gloria? Aren’t we going to get anything for her this time?”
She was inquiring about my former sister-in-law who lived in another state and remained like a daughter to Mamma for all of her life. For most Christmases, Mamma would send her gift via Goldsmith’s mail service after consultation with Personal Shopper.
And, of course, something was ordered for Gloria. Personal Shopper saved my mother from a terrible oversight. (These didn’t happen.)
If there are personal shoppers in heaven, I hope Mamma reconnects with the one she collaborated with at Goldsmith’s. They were quite a team.
And Goldsmith’s was quite a store. Thinking back on it made for a nice trip into yesteryear.
Lynda Hollenbeck is associate editor of the Courier.
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