Shopping: a first draft

Shopping is one of those activities in which I've always had an interest, but to which, at the same time, a bit of an aversion. This probably traces back to those all day downtown shopping expeditions I used to go on with my mother when I was a lad growing up in San Antonio, but of that more anon. Not all shopping involved such effort. There were in those days a variety of door to door salesmen who would come through our neighborhood knocking on doors and displaying their wares to housewives who were willing to give them a chance at a sale. My mother's sales resistance was weak, so we always assumed there was some kind of mark on our door -- although I never actually found it -- encouraging all passing peddlers to give us a go. Over the years she purchased several sets of encyclopedias and at least two rather expensive vacuum cleaners.

We also had regular visits from the Fuller Brush Man, who as I recall sold us all manner of very useful brushes, some of which I wish I had now. Then there was the guy selling Stanley Home Products; some were ideal companions to use with your Fuller brushes. But to me the king of all door-to-door salesmen was the Jewel Tea man, who would drive up in a large brown truck that was actually a sort of shop on wheels, from which he extracted his enormous sample cases that he opened up in our living room, turning our available furniture into displays of his merchandise. My mother must have been one of his best customers, she always bought something, sometimes quite a lot, although I don't recall that we bought much of the tea. She and my grandmother even purchased sets of Jewel Tea china, Autumn Leaf, the remaining pieces of which sit lovingly boxed up in my garage.  I can't recall now how often these various door-to-door salesmen would come around, not weekly I think, but on a fairly regular schedule. I do remember sitting by my mother as she listened to the sales pitches and examined the products, with me urging her to purchase just about everything we were shown.

I suppose I was early won over to shopping from home, and there is no question I preferred home shopping to the great expeditions to downtown San Antonio's various emporia. These journeys would begin very early, since we first had to catch a bus, which meant a hike to the bus stop where we would wait for our bus, then a long ride to the downtown shopping district, which was somewhat spread out, especially since most excursions began at the downtown Sears store that was located blocks away from the main shopping streets, Houston and Commerce. I can't believe my mother really enjoyed these marathon shopping days any more than we did, considering she sometimes had to carry my little brother for part of the way, or seek out a stroller in the stores. Amazingly these were often available. But my mother was nothing if not determined and organized. She led these expeditions like a general, and by the end of the day (which was probably only early afternoon) we were loaded down with packages waiting for our return bus.

The high point of downtown shopping for my brothers and me was the bribes we got in the form of treats, mostly candy from those wonderful counters at Sears or one of the other downtown department stores.  We also had lunch to look forward to at Woolworth's which had a large lunch counter where we got sandwiches on toasted bread that always seemed so much tastier than the ones we would have made for ourselves at home, and those soda fountain cokes made from syrup and fizzy water that were so much better than any coke from a bottle. Problem was, after lunch we were ready for a nap, not more shopping. Those last few stops were always the hardest, even when we might be rewarded with a toy, but then we could sleep on the bus on our way back home.

Less arduous were the more routine weekly shops at the grocery stores on West Avenue. My mother's preferred store was the Home-Owned grocery, which had old wooden floors, often covered in red oiled saw dust, and a produce department that always smelled wonderful. I remember we used to sample the fruit before buying, even the watermelons and cantaloupes were plugged in season. And the butcher, who seemed to know every one of his customers by name, would cut and grind your meat to order while you did the rest of your shopping. What we couldn't find at Home-Owned, we bought at the slightly larger and more up-scale Piggly Wiggly down the block. If stopped for something from Parker's Pharmacy, across the street, there was always a good chance we could get a soda from the fountain before heading back home. And if time was sufficient, and we could persuade my mother, or if she needed something for her sewing, we might stop in at the Winn's variety store and check out the toys.

Of course, if it was toys we were looking for, nothing could compete with Ann & Tom Brown's Toy Store on Hildebrand Avenue. This was toy heaven, where everything imaginable was on display in what was surely the golden age of toys. There were dolls and doll houses and toys and games of every kind imaginable, as well as bicycles and wagons and elaborate A.C. Gilbert chemistry and erector sets. But for me nothing could compete with the electric trains, all the latest Lionel and American Flyer sets and accessories. I spent many hours in that special room where there was a giant layout with various trains running over trestles and through tunnels. Eventually I was even given admittance to the back workroom where locomotives and other operating accessories were repaired and reconditioned. Once I watched as my old Lionel 2026 locomotive was lovingly brought back to life.

I'll bring this to a close now, but I may return to this as another chapter in my memoir of growing up in San Antonio in the 1950s.