Goodbye Historic Department Stores

One of the saddest trends of the last 20 years has been the decline of the grand old department stores in many downtowns. Nearly everyone over 40 can remember the trek downtown at Christmas to see the decorations and sit on Santa's lap. (If you can't remember it, rent the movie "Miracle on 34th Street" and you'll get the idea.) Almost as sad as the stores' decline: Where downtown stores have hung on, they've been renamed. The latest great old retail name to disappear: Marshall Field's in Chicago.

Marshall Field's wasn't just a big store. It was the big store in Chicago, a place so familiar and cherished that, if you wanted to be sure to meet someone, you told them to stand "under the Field's clock" on State Street. Field's didn't invent the department store (the first true department store was Bon Marche in Paris in the 1850s), nor was it the first in America (there was one in New York by the early 1860s, but none was more beloved. Field's motto was, "Give the Lady What She Wants," and it was in customer service that the store made its mark.

It was also appreciated for its longevity. Rebuilt after the Chicago fire of 1871, the downtown Marshall Field's store was rebuilt again after a second fire and eventually located at Washington and State, an intersection it still commands like a fortress. But come next year, the fortress will have a new name, Macy's. As you can imagine, this does not sit well with many Chicagoans. "Macy's should stay in New York, and Field's should stay in Chicago," one shopper told the Chicago Tribune. Some of the sales people in the store weren't pleased either. "People really come here for the name," one told the Tribune. "It's a Chicago icon."

Don't take it personally, Chicago. Other cities have lost cherished retail names: Rich's in Atlanta, Lazarus in Cincinnati, Goldsmith's in Memphis, Burdines in Miami. All are now known as Macy's. Why the changes? The owner of these stores, Federated Department Stores, thinks having the same name on all its stores will help with marketing and other costs.

And what do Chicago's political leaders think of losing the Marshall Field's name? Actually, they've been uncharacteristically calm about it. "Retailing has changed and lifestyles have changed and business has changed," Mayor Richard M. Daley said. "But we should never be afraid of change."

War of the Suburbs

If you want to make people in a neighboring town foot-stomping mad, what could you do? Here's a sure-fire way: Put up a barricade between the cities. Think this sort of thing doesn't go on? It happens all the time.

It's happening now in suburban Chicago, where the neighboring cities of Hammond, Ind., and Calumet City, Ill., are in nasty dispute because Hammond wants to close off access along State Line Road, which forms the border between the two. Why? Hammond officials say it's because their residents are seeing a rash of property crimes and suspect the criminals are driving in from Calumet City.

This, of course, infuriates Calumet City residents. "The thought of having my access to my car mechanic, to my eye doctor, to the little grocery store, to the little churches . . . we just couldn't see that cut off," an 80-year-old resident told the Chicago Tribune. And what about Hammond's fear of Calumet City's criminals? She hooted, "There are just as many thieves in Hammond as Cal City."

The real reason for the proposed barricade, some Calumet City residents say, is that their city has a more diverse population. As one pointed out, the two places have lived side by side for years without significant problems. "The only thing that's changed is that African-Americans have moved in," he added. No, it really is about crime, Hammond's mayor insisted. "This has nothing to do with race," he told the Tribune.

After Calumet City angrily refused to allow Hammond to build a six-inch curb-like barricade along State Line Road's median, Hammond officials are considering other ideas, including adding a lane on the Indiana side and placing the barricade there or turning some of Hammond's westernmost streets into cul-de-sacs, to prevent Calumet City residents from getting very far into Hammond.

Hey, but at least a six-inch curb is discrete. There's nothing subtle about the bright orange gates and five-foot barricades that the Miami suburb of Southwest Ranches has erected to keep out residents of neighboring Pembroke Pines. The dispute: Not crime but traffic, say Southwest Ranches residents. According to one city council member, leadfoot suburbanites from Pembroke Pines roar through rural Southwest Ranches, where families keep horses and ostriches. "They're running over our animals," he told the Miami Herald. "They've aimed at people getting mail."

Pembroke Pines residents are offended, of course. "It makes us feel like our neighbors don't like us," said one whose house looks out on the padlocked barricades. It also slows emergency vehicles, others pointed out.

Footnote: So what are these barricades really about? Probably not about crime or traffic, said one professor of conflict resolution who was interviewed by the Herald. Those are usually excuses for something deeper, a fear or dislike of others' lifestyles. "You can't sue people because their lifestyle is different than yours," she added, "but that is actually the concern most of the time."