CHRISTMAS IN THE CITY OF LOVE

 A few weeks before every Christmas, we made a pilgrimage, not to Bethlehem or Mecca but to Gimbels and Lit Brothers.  I think of this every year around December 1...

... It's a very early Saturday, the first weekend after Thanksgiving 1953.   Mom, Nanny, and I walked to the Public Service Bus garage and waited (what seemed like forever) for the bus to Philly.  I was filled to the brim with excitement.  This trip was the beginning of the best part of the kid year, as heralded by the Millville Daily Republican (which wasn't published on Sunday?) that posted its first little box in the box on the front page = "25 days 'till Christmas".  I made a mental note to get my Christmas must-have list in order.  But right now I was focused on waiting. 

Now waiting for a bus is worse than waiting for a tea kettle to boil.  Time slows in a way only a physicist could understand.  But finally, the big shiny behemoth roared out of the garage, and we were on our way.  The bus driver said, "Vineland Margaret?" and she replied, "No, Eddie, all the way to 13th and Market streets." The fare was a buck fifty each – a costly trip in kid finance, but worth it; we were on our way to wonders that predated Disney World.  The trek took over an hour as we stopped to pick up new passengers every 14 feet.  The bus is full.  And then we sailed over the big bridge and were there.  Downtown Market Street and the big stores were all in a row.  Lit Brothers, Gimbals, Woolworth's, W.T. Grants, Sears and Roebucks, and the Taj Mahal of Retailers – John Wanamaker's.  And we were going to walk every floor of them all.  This was our day to "window shop" Christmas. 

However, our first stop was traditionally at Horn & Hardart's Automat.  I had seen their commercials on TV for months, and now I could taste their delicacies in "living color" instead of black and white. Mom let me put 30 cents in a slot this year. A little door opened, and I grabbed a ham and cheese on white from the little box. This menu was a fine instant cuisine that predated the fast food burgers to come, but that was years off at this point.  Another quarter in a row, and I got a slice of very spicy apple pie with a slice of yellow cheese on top.  My mother splurged and spent 40 cents on a BLT, her favorite. Nanny had liverwurst (which I wouldn't acquire a taste for until I was introduced to it at a Jewish Deli in Atlantic City years later).

Now the fun finally began - Next stop, Wanamaker and the train in the sky. 

Escalator or elevator?  This was great fun for Millvillians, as we basically have a one-story town - we rarely rode up anywhere in Millville.  I voted for the escalator because, as we glided to the next floor, we could see the delights below and the sparkling decorations on each aisle.  As she did every year, Mom cautioned me not to get my foot caught in the moving steps, which seemed impossible to me - but.  Five floors later, we arrived at the Toy Department, which occupied an entire floor - this was a kid's dream come true.  Riding high above the countless counters of model airplanes, puppets, and pop guns was the Toyland Express Train, also known as The Rocket, which circled the perimeter of the floor twice with about 25 kids aboard on each trip.  I always waited in line for the ride first so I could get my bearings - over there was the Hopalong Cassidy stuff in the first aisle, the board games over there.  Bikes below.  I waved to Mom and Nanny.  And then saw "Santa" (his helper, of course) seated on a giant golden throne.  (I would later see Gimbel's Santa; I like him better, he had a real beard)  After I made the two revolutions on the Polar Express of my day, I was then off to view the treasures up close.  I moved through the rows of glass-topped counters like a hunter on a safari, up and down each aisle, scanning the displays.  I particularly liked the toy gun arsenal and the Gilbert's Erector Set display of a skyscraper that resembled the Empire State (which no kid would ever be able to duplicate).  Ticker Toys were not a favorite - too babyish. 

On the way down, we would ride the elevator and stop on each floor as the uniformed operator  called out their wares  - When he  said, "3rd floor, ladies' underwear." I always giggled.  This announcement cracked me up every year.  

Next, out in the windy air, I visited every store on the street - Lit Brother's featured a complete set of kid armor for $300.  I knew that would not be on my Christmas list.  I was a realist, even at the age of 10. Anyhow, I probably was too big for it.  Plus, there would never be another kid in my neighborhood that I could have a joust with. 

We stopped several times along the busy sidewalks filled with shoppers carrying armloads of packages, often in front of furniture stores, to pretend we were buying a pop-up easy chair.  Actually, we went in to sit down and rest our feet for a few minutes.  We moved from the easy chair to the sofa and tested each for its potential comfort!  Those with footstools were mainly of interest.   Nanny found one recliner with a vibrating seat, which we all tried.

Our last stop was always at Lit Brothers - a small but wonderful department store. Here, there were more exotic toys to see. In the massive atrium, patterned after a Roman temple, a free and famous hourly concert of carols took place, accompanied by a giant tree on a marble-pillared balcony high above the crowd. The tree was decorated, as advertised, with 20,000 lights that blinked in time with the music.  After every carol in the book was played at ear-splitting volume, there was a big finale. The tree danced to Joy to the World as red and green spotlights made it sparkle, and as every year - WOW! was all I could say, along with a bunch of oh's and ah's from the large crowd.  The lights slowly dimmed to the last chords of Silent Night, and the show was over.  Done until a waiting crowd filled the atrium again.

We were done too - well done.  We had walked all day, and Nanny said her "dogs were barking!"  She always had an old saying that made me laugh.  As the big stores closed, we caught the bus home, and I slept most of the way back to Jersey, dreaming of my idol Hopalong Cassidy and his double-holstered cap guns with simulated pearl handles - the dream ended all too soon when the bus lurched to a stop, and we were home again.

Years later, I realized that every time Mom had walked away that day "to look at something" as I gazed at the toys, she was ordering stuff  "for Santa" and a week later the "big brown" truck would bring many of the things I said, "I really...really like" to Stratton Ave.   

Our holiday shopping was over, and I slept well that night.  These were some of the best days in my life.  But those great monuments on Market Street are gone now and replaced by internet orders to an invisible store called Amazon.  They're just memories  - when a magic bus trip took us to a wonderland in the City of Brotherly Love.