I haven't weighed in on the flap about the name change which will affect Marshall Field's chain of Chicago area stores. My attitude has been pretty much "que sera, sera." The CEO of Federated Department Stores, which now owns Field's — his name is Ludicrous or something like that — has made a business decision.
But I'm hoping that Mr. Ludicrous won't make the same mistake that one of his predecessors made a few years ago. It was between Halloween and Christmas when the windows were all decorated with holiday cheer. In the window of North Michigan Avenue's Saks Fifth Avenue store, an exhibit showed mother and daughter mannequins standing on a snowy street, bundled up in their "go into town" clothes. The caption under the images said something like "After we see the 'Nutcracker' at Lincoln Center, let's go to Saks." It was clear that the window display had been imported from New York where it had been used in earlier years. I decided then and there to take my business elsewhere.
I frequently spend time in New York, though I rarely shop there, and I understand their civic pride. I do know, however, that the pride doesn't extend west of the Hudson River.
I can almost see the "written in Manhattan" ads that will appear: "Come to Macy's State Street. Every purchase will get you points toward a free ride on the Circle Line boat around our island." Or maybe this one: "Shop at Macy's State Street — only a short 'N' train ride from Brooklyn."
The decision on the name change will probably return to bite him on his rear end. The reason for that toothy incursion in his posterior isn't because of the name change, though that won't help him. Instead the reason is the fact that department stores are the dinosaurs of retailing.
When they were first organized, they served much the same function as shopping malls fill now. They would solicit specific brand manufacturers to rent space in their marts and offer a particular brand of merchandise. To some extent, that practice continues today with cosmetics manufacturers being the prime example of that sort of selling. As time went on, the owners of the structure began to bring in merchandise for their own retailing space and stores as we have come to know them were developed.
Over the past quarter century, the suburban mall has overtaken the department store as the retail venue of choice for most shoppers. Downtown shoppers have deserted State Street's retail behemoths and have gone shopping either in specialty stores or in outlet malls. There was a time when retailing on State Street (dubbed "That Great Street") included stores like Baskins, Lyttons, Goldblatt's, Sears, Weiboldt's, Mandle Brothers, The Fair Store, The Boston Store, Carson Pirie and Marshall Field's. The latter two are the only remnants of those glory years.
And this change in American taste is only a part of a still broader picture which I have labeled "The Blanding of America." There was a time when regional differences gave areas of the country a unique charm. I could buy crab cakes in Maryland and lobster in Maine; I could buy candy "rocky mountain rocks" in Denver and "See's" candy in Los Angeles. Texas would offer Mexican fare, New Orleans was where you went to enjoy Cajun and Creole foods, and Chicago was home to great steaks. While those things are still available in their respective destinations, they are also in every supermarket in the land — in frozen food sections, in restaurants and in fast food franchises. Nothing much is unique to a region — in fact, nothing much is unique to America.
The same thing is true of the banking industry. Chicago's First National Bank, The Continental Illinois National Bank, The LaSalle Bank, the Harris Trust Bank, Washington Mutual Savings and so many others are owned by out-of-town interests, draining their profits from Chicagoans. None of them are uniquely Chicago and, though they employ Chicago workers, their decision-makers are somewhere else considering the bottom line effect of anything they decide to bring into our City.
Even clothing has been made bland. Our TV mentality and the wide distribution of style magazines has made teenagers look the same whether they're in Great Falls, Montana, or Salem, Massachusetts. Our trend setters are Hollywood celebrity wanabees, whose moments of fame last only a few months if that long.
So, what department stores offer in New York, Chicago or L.A. is not different from what those stores offer in Keokuk, Abilene, Tucson or Charleston. In fact, that's one of the reasons for the success of Wal-Mart. Price is one factor but universality is the other. TV commercials are expensive to produce, but once in the can, they can be used coast-to-coast. Why offer variety when low prices bring in customers? Why provide choice when a celebrity can be bought to promote the most ordinary fashion?
Accepting this fact of life is one reason for the "que sera, sera" attitude — whatever will be, will be. For that reason, I am considering offering the Mayor of Chicago the following suggestion: Why not offer the unused Loop Block 37 to Wal-Mart to build, as Wal-Mart has always wanted to open in a central Chicago location? Since there are almost no locally owned stores left downtown, the suggestion seems reasonable. The blandness that will be typical of Macy's is already at hand in the Wal-Mart store — and they advertise that their prices are always lower. |
