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"This is one of those reflections that we all do in this late stage of our lives:"
I think it was 1931. My father had lost his job, like a lot of Glen Ellyn residents in a year or two previously, and, as my mother said, we were living on split pea soup. He had found a job, but it was a substantial step down from his position as Production Manager for Temple Radio to a foreman in the syrup house at Corn Products in Argo. That sets the scene for my (at 5 or 6) little tragic story.
All too occasionally, my mother, through some inherited investments, would get an extra dividend, usually from "Mr. Wrigley," as the Wm. Wrigley Co. was called. There were times when all she got was a small carton of gum. This time she actually got a check for $20.00.
"C'mon, David, let's you and I go into Chicago. I'll treat you to lunch in the Walnut Room, and we'll look around in some of the stores," she decided. A trip to State Street was an adventure. On one other occasion she told me, with a certain amount of nostalgia in her voice, "David, vaudeville isn't going to be around much longer, so I'm going to take you to the Rialto (Theatre) so you can see what it's like." This time, the $20.00 had to be used, so off we went on the Aurora & Elgin. We did the "Marshfield shuffle" and ended up on Wabash Avenue.
Our tour on Wabash took us to several stores: Mandels, Goldblatts, I suppose; Carson's,
and then a stop at the Boston Store. Marshall Field's was being saved for lunch in the Walnut Room, then home and we'd call it a day.
Now $20.00 today doesn't seem like a lot of money. But in 1931 it would buy you almost everything you needed. Had you found twenty bucks on the street, it might just as well have been a gold bar! In 2003, based on the CPI, it would buy you $241.83 and probably a bit more today; the GDP (Gross Domestic Profit) deflator measures it at $204.33; in terms of unskilled wages, it amounts to $739.19, and if you look at the GDP per capita, it becomes $1,226.14. Comparing its relative share of the GDP, it is a whopping $2,871.61 (see http://eh.net/hmt/compare on the internet). As far as our story is concerned, it was a LOT of money.
I formed an opinion rather quickly about the Boston Store. We stood at one of the counters on the ground floor not more than 30 feet from the Wabash entrance. I suppose it was a jewelry counter. My mother loved jewelry.
While she leaned over the counter -- with me standing alongside -- examining a brooch, I think, her purse was open at one side. A foreign hand and arm appeared from behind her and snatched the $20.00 bill. Hand and bill took off for the entrance. I felt I had let a thief lift my mother's possession, and along with it the day's anticipation and expectations. No brooch, no lunch at the Walnut Room. In short, it made a bummer of a day for us.
"Well, at least we have a ticket to get home," my mother muttered after the store detective and floor-walker showed up. Poor mom! She was in tears. Everything, everything, it seemed, like life savings, had been swept away. It was a quiet disappointing ride home on the 'L' and the CA&E. No conversation, just an occasional sigh. The best I could muster was "It'll be all right Mom."
DAVID HOY
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