As long as I can remember I have had an affinity for “downtown.” The mere mention of the exclamation, “let’s go to town,” can awaken all sorts of bright things for me. It conjures up visions of times spent in pleasant pleasant places discovering all sorts of items, which heretofore had been secret.
Going to town was especially enjoyable at Christmas time. In my formative years this meant sojourns up and down Houston Street and Alamo Plaza in San Antonio. Christmas decorations were plentiful in all the downtown city streets. There was a generous supply of Santa Clauses, on almost all street corners, all with their kettles and ringing bells. I don’t remember the charity but it must have been something like the Salvation Army.
San Antonio had two main department stores, Joske’s and Wolk and Marx. They were the Macy’s and Gimbel’s of that time and place, and they were top grade when it came to toy departments. We probably did more looking than buying but that was all right too.
But San Antonio was an earlier time. San Diego was something else. I suppose that outside of some of the war years I have been going to downtown to San Diego for nearly 60 years. The other day, while watching Jeff Barnard and Edith Warn work with pre-school children at the Bonita-Sunnyside Library, I was reminded of many of those shopping jaunts.
My own children were that pre-school age when we would dress them up in their Sunday finery for a Saturday on the town. Downtown San Diego was, of course, a lot different in those days. Nowadays we go to Horton Plaza and that seems to be it.
But back in the ‘50’s there was no downtown shopping center. The big attraction was, of course the large department stores. Right on Broadway, for example, there was Walker Scott’s, the most splendid one of the lot. To see the building at the present time brings back a nostalgia and a commensurable feeling at the same time. What was once a large, Victorian edifice is now boarded up and decrepit, like a crone down on her luck.
Ah, but in her heyday Walker-Scott was the anchor of downtown shopping, the epitome of what a store should be. It had about 10 stories, all of them with their specialties. Operators ran elevators and would sing out the specialties of each floor as they stopped. My young charges and I were more interested in the basement, not for its bargain counters but for its toy department.
Santa Claus was ensconced on his throne near one of the entrances and nearby there was a large electric train display, those large Lionel “O” gauge engines and cars, making perfect ovals around a simulated town. The children would give their message to Santa and then stand there, enthralled by the magic of the display.
There were other stores downtown. Montgomery-Ward, and there was also a downtown Sears (Sears-Roebuck at that time). The downtown Marston’s was also a great store, almost as large as Walker-Scott’s but without the train display. Up and down Fifth and Sixth avenues there were other smaller stores, all with attractive windows and many with their own Santas.
Our luncheon meal was invariably taken at Manning’s Cafeteria, which was half a block up Fifth Avenue from Broadway. It had both a street level and a basement and offered the best tasting chicken salad in the county. I don’t remember what the children ate but I always ordered the chicken salad on large slabs of white bread.
After lunch we generally made our way to one of the downtown theaters for a movie. I have written of this in the past, extolling the grandeur of the downtown movie places. There was the Fox and Orpheum on B street, one on Fifth Avenue, and the new Spreckels on Broadway. It was always the ‘new Spreckels” even when it was old and gray.
Eventually we would wend out way to the car and then home. We had accomplished our goal when we came away with our Christmas purchases. But more importantly, we came away with an experience that we could happily and nostalgically dust off each year and relive.
The trip downtown the other day was pleasant and worth while. I spoke to Santa Claus at Nordstrom’s. He generally gives you what you want, doesn’t he? I wish I had thought to ask him for one more Christmas like those 40 years ago. Would have been nice.
