I’ve written before about the time that Santa came to visit my brother and me at our house. That’s the only time I remember Santa coming to visit me as a child before he dropped off our presents. But I remember one time when we went to visit Santa at the mall.
I was four or five, and my paternal grandparents lived in Vancouver, Washington, across the Columbia River from Portland, Oregon. Our family visited these grandparents for Thanksgiving in 1960 or ’61.
On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, my parents took my brother and me to Lloyd Center in Portland. Lloyd Center was a large shopping mall. It still exists today, but in 1960 it was brand new, and it was still a novelty in 1961.
I had never been to a shopping mall before. My parents, brother, and I all dressed in our Sunday finest for the expedition. I wore my good tweed coat and my red velvet hat with the white fur pom-pom. I loved that hat, which my mother only let me wear during the winter. But it fit for several years, so I got to enjoy it until I decided it was too babyish.
(I know there is a picture of me in that coat and hat, but I can’t for the life of me find it.)
Not my Santa at the mall, but similar
The stores were overwhelming. I knew about J.C. Penney’s, because those stores were everywhere. I knew of Meier & Frank, the big Portland-based department store, though I’d never been in one before. I’d never heard of most of the other stores. The shopping mall had at least two levels, with an escalator running between them.
I was scared to death of the escalator. I’d seen a Mickey Mouse cartoon, in which Mickey got flattened in an escalator. He went round and round until somehow he popped out, magically three-dimensional again.
It didn’t help that my mother kept telling me, “Hang on! Hang on! Don’t let your shoe get caught.”
Petrified, I let several escalator steps pass me by, until one of my parents grabbed my hand and pulled. I stepped on and rode to the bottom, nervous for the entire flight, scared I wouldn’t know how to get off. That’s what had happened to Mickey. He’d been sucked in at the bottom.
Another jerk of a parental hand, and I stumbled off. Still in one piece.
And off we went to find Santa.
I don’t remember a thing about sitting on Santa’s lap. But I know I wasn’t disappointed on Christmas morning, so it must have been an effective visit.
What are your first memories of a shopping mall?
When I was old enough to remember a first, there were no shopping malls. That makes me old, doesn’t it?
Our hot spot was downtown Kansas City, with Macy’s at the dead-end street of Petticoat Lane. Emery, Bird, Thayer was at the top of that shopping area with a mechanical Santa in the front window. He slapped his knee as his mighty “Ho, Ho, Ho!” echoed from the loud speakers.
Each of the big department stores had their own Santa inside with a long line of eager faces, waiting to deliver their list to the bearded fellow.
By the time we drove for two hours to get to Kansas City, and I followed my mother through the shoe department at Harzfeld’s, the dress departments of Klein’s, Jones, Emery Bird’s, Jones, and Macy’s, I wasn’t too anxious to stand in line for another hour to see some fat man in a red suit. I was just glad to see our Oldsmobile appear driven by a valet from the upper reaches of the Capitol Garage at the end of the day. Maybe that’s why I don’t like lines and shopping to this day.
Sally,
Your memories of downtown Kansas City are very similar to my husband’s. He grew up in a small town in mid-Missouri, and his family also came to Kansas City for Christmas shopping.
Thanks for the comment,
Theresa
One of our neighbors dressed up as Santa every year and visited out house on Christmas Eve. The mall in the town I grew up in was open, no roof covering the stores. Anchor stores were Alexander’s and Caldor’s. My first job was at the Kresge’s in that mall. Now it’s a huge, 2 level, all enclosed number with Macy’s and JC Penny.
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