Wanamaker memories

The Eagle at Wanamaker’s was always a meeting place. I can remember going to Philadelphia on the subway from Camden. Mom would walk us down Stevens Street. We would turn right on Broadway and catch the subway. This was prior to the high speed line and the turnstiles were really wooden. The driveway and the house no longer exist. We lived at 309 South 6th Street in Camden. I think this is now the green area of Cooper University Medical Center. This is where I started school (Broadway); saw escargot in baskets, poultry hanging by the neck and where I learned that a store with a neon pretzel does not sell pretzels.
There were times I remember ducking under while the older people put the token in the slot and walked through. The train went over the Benjamin Franklin, past Whitman Chocolate and Old Saint George’s. It was a great view. Campbell’s Soup was on the going home side of the bridge a little further down the Delaware River. We would stop at 8th and Market to shop at Lit Brothers. Dad worked at Lit’s when he was at Penn so it was considered a pilgrimage. After we shopped a while we went to Strawbridge and Clothiers which was across Market Street. We dressed to go to shopping. I remember being cold in my dress, my winter coat, anklets and Shapiro’s shoes. Even though I was cold the walk to Wanamaker’s was full of wonderful sights.
I remember the sights and smells of Reading (RED-ing) market. We seldom ate at the market because we were headed for the Cranberry Room at Wanamaker’s. We met my paternal grandmother, Honey, and headed for lunch. I have many memories of the restaurant. It had deep cranberry walls and starched white tablecloths and napkins. I think the favorite menu item was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The water in Philadelphia had a funny taste to it. My sister and I were dress alike in either in a Nova Scotia Tartan or Royal Stewart pleated skirt. All I remember was the stupid straps. After lunch we would get into the elevator (there were walls of elevators).The nice man in the maroon uniform would take us to any floor we wanted. Sometimes, if we were lucky we would be on the main floor when the organ was playing. At Christmas there was a neon light show, narrative story and organ music. Oh to be able to see that huge green board with all the tubes and see that organ. While I was checking some facts, and looking for some pictures I found out, maybe reminded, both the eagle and the organ came from the St. Louis State Fair.
As I grew older we moved away from the Philadelphia area. I came back to the Philly after high school to go to nursing school. Oh what fun it was on the subway and/or subway surface cars going to classes at Penn. Lunch was usually at Pagano’s and Roberta Flack’s song “Killing Me Softly” was playing in the background.
There were times I left Methodist early enough to scoot into Wanamaker’s and grab something prior to transferring to the line that would take me to a lab or class. After graduation I was able to shop in a more relaxed way. I think my second credit card was Wanamaker’s. I know the first on was Strawbridge and Clothier. The purchases I remember making at Wanamaker’s were a shirt and tie for a good friend (pale yellow Cutlass Classic Convertible) who was graduating from medical school. (Jefferson). The other treasure I bought was violin music books. There was a wonderful assortment of music books. I spent hours rummaging through the stacks. I finally settled on a bluegrass and something else book. Three months later I accidently took the books out with the newspaper. I still miss the memory, not the books.
Watching the video of the random acts of culture churned up numerous memories for me. I am sorry there was nothing like this locally for the girls to know and love. Thank you so much to all those who sang and the foundation for bringing the spontaneity back into center city. The facebook friends who posted the link will never really know the joy it brought.
I cannot dwell on what the wrecking ball of change has destroyed but I can still remember the parsonage in Camden. The wrought iron fence around the yard, feeding pennies to the parking meters so the policeman would not give tickets to those parked. Decorating the front porch of the parsonage with the bishop’s funeral flowers was a highlight. Climbing the vertical iron railing was a blast. I think we entertained the patients at Cooper Hospital. I still remember listening to Mr. Mason play the bells in the tower and the smell of Ralph the caretaker’s tea. Camden was a great memory mom and dad. I promise never to throw toys out the third story window again.