Do you remember ... Christmas Shopping in Binghamton “Yes, it’s Thursday -- hurry up and get your homework done, so we can go downtown right after supper!” Back when I was a kid, that statement was often heard around our house, and, I imagine, in other homes in and around Broome County. But it took on special meaning around Christmas time. Why on Thursday? Because Thursday was shopping night in Binghamton; the stores were open until nine o’clock, and that was where you went on Thursday. We’d pile into the old ’48 Ford Woodie (just one of the cars I wish we had kept), and head down off the back side of Bunn Hill, through the South Side into town, across the Washington Street Bridge, with its clickety-clackety metal-link roadway, and Dad would start looking for a parking place. Our first stop was usually Sears and Roebuck’s, or Montgomery Ward’s, down on Court Street, but if we could find a spot near the Courthouse, Dad liked to park there, as it made for a shorter walk to most of the stores. We always walked up the south side of Court Street, toward Memorial Bridge, because those were the stores we could afford. Woolworth’s was on our “affordable” list, as was W.T. Grant’s and Neisner’s. In fact, Woolworth’s and Neisner’s were both known as “five and tens” because they carried many items that could be purchased for a nickel or a dime. They carried a lot of toys and trinkets marked “Made in Japan,” and that, I guess, was why we could afford them. We kids would each get a dollar or so, with the admonition to “make it last, it’s all there is.” A dollar was, in fact, a lot of money back then, and I can remember having to stretch it for quite a ways. Woolworth’s and Neisner’s were confusing places -- for me, anyway, but I usually was able to find the perfect gift for Mother right away. They had all sorts of measuring spoons and baking pans for a nickel or a dime, and I know that after she passed away, and we sorted out the kitchen drawers, we found some of them that she was still using! For Dad, there’d be a keychain or a tie clip, or maybe a pocket notebook. The trick was to get him and Mother to look the other way while we bought their presents. I don’t know how we did it, but they were always “surprised” on Christmas morning. Then on to one of the other exciting places we’d stop at during our trip – downstairs at Grants! That’s where the toys were! Airplanes and cowboy outfits, dolls and stuffed animals, and even back then some of them talked! No, not with batteries and microchips, but with little strips of plastic, or waxed string attached to sounding boxes. The strips had little grooves moulded into them, and if you pulled your thumbnail along them just right, the vibrations would sound like “mama” or “I love you,” or a cowboy would say “Howdy!” Of course, you could only see those strips or strings after the toy was broken and taken apart … Otherwise you had to pull on a string coming out of the doll’s back, to make it talk. But they were too expensive, even in Grant’s, so we had to pass on them, and be satisfied with the rubber balls, or tops, or little puzzles that we could afford. Eventually the stores would start to get a little bit crowded, and we’d hurry along, so that we could have time to stop at all the places on our list. We’d hurry past most of the stores – Woodie’s Record Shop would be playing Christmas music, and Hamlin’s usually had ribbon candy on sale. Then past Kern’s Hobby Shop, with all the model planes hanging in the window, and across the bridge to Front Street, where we’d cross over to the Rexall Drug Store. I remember one Christmas a few years later, when I filled my whole Christmas list in that Rexall Store, on Christmas Eve, including that awful “Evening in Paris” gift set – sorry, Sis ... Back across the bridge was where the real magic started, in the windows of Fowler’s and McLean’s department stores. We loved the animated displays in those windows! There was Santa’s workshop, elves making toys, kids ice skating, deer and rabbits singing Christmas Carols, even a manger scene, with moving animals -- a scaled-down version of the one on the courthouse lawn! There were whole worlds in there, and a little imagination was all I needed to get lost in them. They all looked warm and inviting, and I could have stood and watched them for hours, but we still had a few stops to make. I don’t know which was more enticing on a frosty night – the aroma of freshly-roasted nuts wafting out of the Planter’s Peanut Store on Court Street, or the smell of the popcorn machine downstairs at Philly’s, but I imagine I could argue it either way. At any rate, we hurried past the Peanut Man, (okay, maybe we’d stop for a chunk of peanut brittle) then to the car for the short ride to Philadelphia Sales, on Clinton Street. Dad would circle the parking lot a time or two, and find a spot, and we’d all hurry in. Philly’s was a magical world all its own, with all sorts of places to get lost in. There were stairways with only two or three steps, and others with full flights of stairs, and no matter which ones you took, you ended up in the same places! Or so it seemed, anyway, and right near the back door was the Popcorn Machine! It was just an ordinary popcorn machine, like any other popcorn machine, but there was something about it that makes my mouth water even after all these years. I’ve heard others say the same thing, so I guess I’m not alone in thinking that. Someone recently told me that same machine is still working, at the Windy Hill Candle Factory in Port Crane, so I went up there and checked. Sure enough! Popcorn still tastes good too! Anyway, if we had behaved ourselves well enough, Dad would buy a bag or two, and we’d eat it on the way home. Now Philly’s is gone, and Woolworth’s and the rest have been gobbled up by big business. Things are still open on Thursday nights, but they’re open every other night of the week as well. Now the stores have moved out to malls, where the people have morphed into crowds, the toys into plastic ‘gotta-haves’, and sometimes we have to look hard to find the reason why we’re doing all this in the first place. It seems “Holiday” shopping has evolved into a competitive sport that’s more like work than anything else. And at the end of the competition we drag ourselves back home, tired and foot-sore. And when we get there, we throw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, turn on the TV, and call it a day. And I wonder if our grandkids see any magic in that ...
Posted on: Tue, 09 Dec 2014 14:52:34 +0000
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