The "real" Zions Cooperative Mercantile Institution has been gone for more than a year now, but I was still a little saddened to report last week that the venerable ZCMI name will be going away next month when the pioneer co-op founded by Brigham Young becomes Meier & Frank.
As long as the name still hung on the front of the stores and the credit card bills still said "ZCMI," we could all pretend that "America's First Department Store" remained alive and well.
I'm not sure why I feel such nostalgia for ZCMI because, truth be told, my working-class family did its shopping "downtown" on Broadway when I was a kid, not "uptown" on South Temple and Main. But ZCMI was Salt Lake's answer to Macy's and Gimbels, and the fact that it had always been there and, I thought, always would be was comforting.
I am fascinated by the nostalgia factor that retailing holds. Will my children look back fondly on Blockbuster and Media Play? Hard to imagine, but maybe so.
The death of the ZCMI name got me thinking of how many Salt Lake businesses have gone to that big mall in the sky since I was a kid and believed everything and everybody would last forever.
I miss the stores, movie theaters and specialty shops I patronized growing up, such as Loftus Novelty and Magic, where I bought my first joy buzzer and "Magic Rings" but, sadly, never got around to purchasing one of their famous rubber chickens. (Loftus still has a wholesale operation here.)
Drug stores with soda fountains of the kind frequented by Archie and Jughead were the McDonald's of my day, and most of us had our favorite downtown bank where we would take our piggy portfolios every two or three months to bolster our passbook savings accounts — not for college tuition but for something really worthwhile, like a Schwinn Black Phantom bicycle. We didn't know about CDs or money market funds back then, and most of those local banks are gone now anyway.
It's interesting how the businesses of our youth seem better than those of today. Was Scott Hardware superior to Home Depot? Was Zinik's sportier than Gart Bros.? Did Al Hohman's Florsheim shop have superior shoes or Collins and Country Squire nicer men's duds? Probably not, but I'd like to go back in time for a day just to make sure.
My favorite store as a kid was Western Trading on State Street between 100 and 200 South.
Western Trading was a war-surplus store. It was dark and cavernous and had a strong smell that I never could identify but I suppose was a blend of cosmoline and moldering canvas. It was an aroma that conjured up visions of Okinawa, Bataan and Utah Beach. I coveted machetes, entrenching tools, haversacks and ammo pouches . . . all kinds of neat stuff for which I had no real need but which I lusted after as today's kids pine for the new Sony Playstation 2.
Then there's the inflation thing. My kids roll their eyes when I launch into an economics lesson by explaining how hard I had to work for my 50 cents per week allowance and just how far an enterprising 12-year-old could make a half-dollar go in 1952.
A bus trip to town cost a nickel. I laid out a dime for a hot dog and another for a large bag of popcorn at Kress's and openly took them into the Utah Theater (don't try that today) where, for 14 cents and two Hyland milk coupons, I could watch 10 cartoons, a Hopalong Cassidy and Roy Rogers double-feature, and a Flash Gordon serial featuring the lovely Dale Arden and unlovely Ming the Merciless.
Afterward, it was a chocolate soda at Keeleys for 15 cents and then back home again on the bus for another nickel.
I know that totals 59 cents, but I could usually find 9 cents under the sofa cushions or redeem some soda pop bottles, and if not, I'd skip the hot dog. It wasn't that big a hardship, because the lady who ran the lunch counter at Kress's was as grumpy as "Crankshaft," especially with kids.
My favorite neighborhood store was Van's, a mom 'n' pop grocery on the corner of Main and Hartwell Avenue that had the biggest penny candy selection in the civilized world. But downtown was where the real action was — the suburban strip mall and movie gigaplex still being but a glint in some developer's eye.
E-MAIL: max@desnews.com