Who really cares about a defunct department store? Well, it turns out a lot of people do. There is a Facebook page devoted to Marshall Fields, and to hear people talk about it, you wonder why it ever disappeared—a place where truly, the customer was always right.
Marshall Fields, the man, opened his first store in 1892 and "Give the lady what she wants" became one of the enduring hallmarks of the Marshall Field's department store. The Chicago Landmark, now a Macy's store, is a 12-story building that spreads across an entire block on State Street. Sadly, the last time I went there, it cost me $59 to park for an hour and a half.
While iconic MF décor was retained, such as the first and largest Tiffany glass tile ceiling in the world, Chicago architect Daniel Burnham's original fountain and the original name plaques and signature bronze clocks remain, so many people who can compare the two will agree that Macy's can never be Marshall Fields. It's hard to believe that it was only back in 2007 that Macy's took over this franchise, because the idealism with which memories are wrought seem like they belong back in the 1800s.
I took on the task of finding out what Marshall Fields was like from the 1930s to the 1960s because of a fiction novel I'm writing that carries the name in its title. What you'll see here are a compilation of memories, along with some research that I've done that will appear in the book. I welcome any and all feedback! My hope here is that more people will share what they remember based on this, or this will jog their memories, or that they will tell me if I've gotten something wrong before I try to get "Dinner at Marshall Field's" published.
Field's in the 1930's was focused on maintaining and advancing a strong sales and service culture. "Give the Lady What She Wants!" was driven by the belief that "enthusiasm, plus knowledge, plus courtesy, equals good selling."
Pamela Day Vlies remembers the elevator, how the operator always called out what floor they were approaching, and you could hear different dinging sounds, depending on what floor it was. You could even tell the operator what you were interested in purchasing and he'd know just where to take you.
Many people in Chicago would choose the iconic clock outside Marshall Field's to meet under. Michele Eisenberg shared an old wives' tale about it: "It's said to be one of several places in the world where you'll run into people you know." Jean C. said her parents always met under the clock when they were courting. Her mother worked there, and she knew her way around as well as she did at home. She knows about the suicides that prompted them to put wire screening around the open spaces on the upper floors (likely during the Depression).
Bob Eltzholtz remembers, "You used to be able to get from O'Hare to Fields on the Blue Line without ever going outside. And when you got to Fields, you thought you were still at O'Hare because the luggage section had a cool light installation to mirror the colored tiles at O'Hare."
When asked about their memories, invariably people talk about Frango's, the mint chocolates. Macy's brought back this Field's signature "a couple of years ago," according to Vlies. Frangos were created in Seattle by someone at the Frederick & Nelson Department Store back in 1918 and re-formulated and introduced in Chicago in 1929. Frango mints were produced in large melting pots on the 13th floor of the State Street building until 1999, when the demand for the candy overwhelmed the in-house facility. Tinney Heath, a fellow author, likes to pretend she's in the 60s when she buys the candies today.
The Walnut Room remains on Macy's 7th Floor as the major restaurant event, especially at Christmastime, where its centerpiece is a three-story tall Christmas tree. That tree used to be real, but starting in the mid-1960s it was replaced by an artificial one. Vlies remembers the tree as being huge, "but I was little." Steve A. in Omaho, too, saw a tree as tall as eight stories, probably going right up the center of the building, and it could, too, as the center of the store is open, with four sided floors going up at least seven stories, and up up into the 9th.
Jean C. disagrees: It started in the Walnut Room and went up to the 9th floor. That could be true. While it seems the building was built to put a tree right into the heart of it, finding one that tall would have been very difficult. And perhaps all these stories are right at different points in time.
Everyone remembers the Christmas window displays, because perhaps Marshall Field's took such care in putting them up. Michele Eisenberg thought of them right off when asked and Tinney Heath called them "truly amazing." They often included moving parts, and demonstrated the fantasy that was Christmas in all its many myths.
For those who remember that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer was an icon of Montgomery Wards, you might be surprised to learn that Field's too had a Christmas icon. His name was Uncle Mistletoe. He was a bright, cheery fellow with a black top hat and heavy red overcoat. Uncle Mistletoe was introduced in 1947 and was Field's holiday ambassador through the 1970's. He had his own TV show from 1948 to 1952 and was a fixture at the Cozy Cloud Cottage in the store alongside Santa through the early 1980's.
A floor for toys, and a floor for books, remembered Heath, and kids treats like ice cream clowns. Jean C. used to watch the model train for hours while her mother shopped in the toy department. These memories indicate how much in awe children could be when visiting this department store.
Heath still has one of the MF signature shopping bags, in dark green. Earle Garber will never forget the Ambrosia Chocolate Shop, also on the lower level.
Jean C. shared what she remembers about places to eat there when I was doing research on a counter service for the novel: "The Walnut room was always the more elegant of the dining rooms and rarely changed. They never had a counter but there were several other restaurants. The Narcissus Room was more casual but still not counter service, the English Room which may be the one with counter service; I don't recall because Mom never liked it. That eventually became a sandwich and salad restaurant. In the 70s they had The Bowl and Basket (I think that was the name) which was behind the cafeteria and was mainly soup and sandwiches. And yes, they had a cafeteria. There was also a room across from the English Room, which at one time was mostly pasta dishes, but before that I couldn't say because, again, Mom didn't care to go there. When we went to Field's it was lunch in the Narcissus Room and afternoon tea in the Walnut Room.
The only counter service I remember distinctly was in the food court in the basement in the 90s, and an ice cream parlor sort of affair on 7, but again that was the 80s and 90s." Marshall Field's had more places that served lunch than supper because of attracting business people and people on the way home would often stop at the diner for coffee and pie before the long trek home.
So perhaps the basement diner in my novel is my own creation, but it serves the purpose of the book, and what's the harm, really? Yes, not all of these memories have dates, but that doesn't matter. They're all Marshall Field's, and they're all gone now. Although you could let me know if you find someone you know under the clock, because that clock (and its legend) is still there.
Janet Elaine Smith remembers the lemon meringue pie, and eating in the basement diner, the one that's featured in my novel. It took some doing to find out more about this diner, though. One of my contacts who declined to be named said that the best bet for a diner was in the basement – just a little diner with a waitress and counter service. The Fountain Dinette was located in the Basement Store on the South State side of the building. Today this would be right below where the women's cosmetics are sold and close to the subway entrance to the store. They had what was called bargain basement – not clearance items, but more like having a K-mart in the basement of a Macy's. But again, I have no date on this basement diner.
Something that I didn't remember at all until I was told: The store itself closed at 6 p.m. back in the 60s and was never open on Sunday.
Marshall Field's would never discriminate, or like one fellow thought, that the basement shopping was for black people. That just wasn't true. Anyone could shop anywhere and they liked it when people just explored and dreamed about what they could get someday. And also, you never knew when someone was going to become rich and you don't want to shun anyone for not having the money at any time. Marshall Fields loved the American dream.
Steve A. said that you went to Marshall Field's because you lived in Chicago. But when I lived in Eau Claire, I went to Marshall Field's because it was the only decent clothing store in town. Oh, they had others. But this was the only decent one. By 2005, though, it was just another Younkers (and that's gone now, too).
It's hard to say when things began to change. Perhaps in the early 60s, when instead of a real tree, they began to put up an artificial one. Perhaps when they put Uncle Mistletoe to bed for the last time.
Jean C. noted: "Another thing I remember is that until the 1980s the store was pretty much stuck in the 1930s/40s. When I was little, it was sort of art deco glam, really elegant, you know? But by the 70s it was looking very down-at-the-heels and badly needed renovating."
And it got renovated. Hinky Dink Kenna's in the basement was opened as a brand new restaurant as part of a restoration of the entire State Street store between 1987-1992. During this restoration the lower level was transformed essentially from the bargain basement into the look and feel it has today. Gone was bargain basement. In 2003 InField sports bar replaced Hinky Dink Kenna's.
Marshall Field's was one of the first places you could say "charge it." They had revolving credit even in the 1800s, but only for exclusive clients. You had to qualify and that was hard to do. People used to get Marshall Field's to deliver just to show off to their neighbors. Jean Hibben remembers the first time she could say "charge it." Marshall Field's issued her credit when she was young and no one else would. She still remembers the pleasure of that day.
Yes, Marshall Field's is a memory now, because times have changed. I still remember the shock and horror I felt when I heard that ALL Marshall Field's had been taken over by Macy's. But we can't go back, as much as we'd like to. We can only remember.