Long Before I Became a Teacher

By Rita Murstein Wohl

Over the ridge and sloping down near the river was the furniture store. Across the street was the hat maker. Haddie was very straightforward but warm. If you didn't see what you liked, she would make it for you. Many hours were spent designing and gently speaking well of others. Haddie didn't gossip. She spent her time twirling tulle and netting. There was a small assortment of feathers and small piles of felt waiting to be pressed into a superior design. Mama often took us with her. It was our female bonding.

Down the way was Main Street. On one corner stood one of our tallest buildings, five stories high. The top floors had offices and it always smelled like medicine. The Orr Felt Building had one of the few mechanical elevators that I knew of, but the ground floor was the best of all. Woolworth's was there. It was beige and brown and full of everything in the world. I think this is where I did my first and only theft. I stole two cellophane straws. The thrill was too much for me and that is why I went straight, I think.

In the next block over were Krege's and Murphy's. They were also beige with wonderful chocolate wood framed cases, with large chocolate and gold signs like candy bars hanging down on gold chains. Murphy's was on the corner in a lovely yellow brick building. All of the dime stores looked and smelled like Hershey bars. I bought a beautiful canary on layaway at Murphy's. It later, but not much later, had a nervous breakdown and died on its back.

A few steps over was Gallagher's Drug Store. It had a huge glass square of candy cases much bigger than I ever got to be. I lost my Mama in that store and still remember crying while she held my hand and led me back through the store while people smaller than I stared and made the experience go from tragic to traumatic. If my sisters or I had gotten a good report card, we sat in a booth at the back and could order Sundaes from the soda fountain for 25 cents. If we didn't do so well, Mom would order dopes for us. One scoop of ice cream was a dope. Chocolate. Fifteen cents.

The greatest place in the world was Bussers Ice Cream Parlor. You immediately smelled the soda and chocolate. The place was roaring from the giant belt churning the cream in the basement and reaching up to the gears upstairs. Nothing in the world will ever smell so good again. The counter and the tabletops were soft gray marble and the ice cream chairs were green.

Right next door was Brown's Department Store. This was the real thing. Rollers sent tubes with the money racing through the tracks to and from the office. Later the tracks became pneumatic tubes. We would go to the back of the second floor to stand in front of the dressmaker while staring at the bleak backs of the few other big buildings in town. The end of the block opened to the town square that had granite water fountains and flowers.A huge gray stone castle commanded an entire view of the area. The sidewalk was fitted with thick colored glass rounds. I loved to feel the round raised smoothness of them under my feet. I was so sad to discover they had a purpose - to light up the basement for the workers. I wanted them to be there just for beauty. We would march up the decorative iron steps to the large cool lobby. On the left, Pop would buy a cigar and shoot dice a few times. There were some sizable round holes in the large leather lobby furniture. I am told they were gun holes. Somehow, I always related them to Abraham Lincoln.

Around the corner again and we come to the furniture store with the funeral home across the street. This store has the biggest windows in town. Above it was the Elks Lounge, restaurant, bar and card room. Above that were the spooky maroon draped meeting rooms.

The furniture store was special. You didn't see one every day. This was where I stopped and stared. I stopped there after school and after funerals and after walking the gas light route to and through downtown every year. During this historical tribute, people put their old furniture and treasures in candle lit windows and stores did it too. I started there for the crowded Saturday night stroll down Main Street when the farmers were in town.

People would always gather on the sofas and talked in lowered tones if there were customers in the store. I remember telling my friend that a chair cost $3000 dollars because it was so big. I wanted so much to be a big shot so that my Daddy would let me be the elevator girl on occasion. I would ask which floor(there was only main and the basement). Then he would lower the big wooden gate and I would start pulling the rope for our journey.

Christmas was fabulous. The boxes were pulled from the back workroom and out came the shiny red and green trimmings. They were scratchy, but wonderous. We had to be a little older before we were allowed to help hang the swags. My mother spent a lot of time there talking to the people and handing out candy.

My father had the first TVs in town - Admirals and Motorolas. I told him to sell out. They were only fads. Did you ever know anybody's advice to ask for because the opposite was the right answer?

The store was close to home so we could always get there for nickels and dimes if we needed to. It was close enough so that we could eat dinner before 5:30 after the store closed at 5:00. Mr. Looney was the salesman and always looked the same. Miss Sigler was a wonderful and loyal secretary. There was usually a furniture finisher up the small steep ramp to the back where the furniture would be loaded onto the trucks.

The store was a place for serious family talks, celebrations, planning and mostly, with saddened heart I say, for memories.