I miss him like it was yesterday. I miss the way he always was there for me, like a best friend. I miss the way he helped celebrate birthdays, my wedding, and the weddings of all my dearest friends, baby showers and barbeques. And the way he celebrated Christmas.
No one celebrated Christmas like him. No one put the time and the effort into decorating for the holidays like he did. No one—no one—had a bigger, a taller, a grander, more beautiful Christmas tree.
No one opened his doors to so many people, so many different people, from all walks of life, from every corner of the globe like he did at Christmas. Visiting his main house at State Street and Randolph downtown Chicago was nothing less than magical. The way he decorated his windows brought tears to the eye of even the most cynical, most heart-hardened Scrooge. People would get dressed up—ladies in their gloves and beautiful hats and winter’s finest, men in their top coats and their top hats, little girls would dress in their special holiday outfits with white tights and black patent leather shoes. Even little boys would wear their Sunday suits under their winter coats, all just to come see how he’d decorated the windows. People would stop and stare with wild wonder and delight. You could see groups of people gleefully pointing to things in those windows that perhaps no one else had noticed. “Oh, look at this,” they would say. “Look at that.” It was akin to watching fireworks shoot up into the sky and explode into a rainbow of color on the 4th of July.
People would stand 10 deep just to get even a glimpse of his beautifully decorated windows. They would snap family photos in front of them and under his great clocks and under the plaque announcing the history of his home. People would come back year after year regardless of how wickedly cold or snowy or windy it was to see how he’d decorated the windows this time.
His windows told stories of his family. Uncle Mistletoe, Aunt Holly and their friends Olio, Molio, Aunt Judy, Skippy Monkey, Obadiah Pig, Tony the Pony and Humphrey Mouse. You may never have met them, but after a few years, it felt as though you had known them all your lives. They may have come ’round only for four years, but you were sad when they had to leave because it was as if part of your own family had left you.
But eventually, you got used to the new stories he told in his windows. Even if they were simple Disney stories or stories about book characters.
Because, after all, it was Marshall Field, and he could really do nothing but good at Christmas. He was like Santa, bringing you memories and gifts that touched the heart and that truly would last a lifetime.
It was amazing the things Marshall Field offered at Christmas. Anything you could possibly imagine…real cashmere sweaters, dazzling diamond jewelry, handsome timepieces, an array of ties for dad that took one’s breath away, personalized stationery, beautiful writing utensils, the best luggage and trunks for fine world traveling, even pots and pans and vacuum cleaners…Marshall Field had it. And if he didn’t have it, he knew who did and how you could find it.
Oh, and the way he treated us ladies. “Give the lady what she wants,” he always said. “Give the lady what she wants.” No one says that anymore.
He welcomed people into his kitchen and dining room, which he called the Walnut Room. And it was in the Walnut Room where one’s parents or grandparents taught us about manners and how to be a lady or a gentleman, which fork to use first. Which spoon was for soup and which fork or spoon was for dessert. And it was in the Walnut Room where the Great Tree stood, standing tall and proud and shining with what seemed like a million starry lights and almost as many glorious ornaments. At some three stories high, that tree always took my breath away.
He left us though—through no fault of his own, mind you. And someone took Marshall Fields’ place. And Christmas never, never has been the same. When Marshall Field left Chicago, left his homes in the suburbs…a part of Christmas left, too.
People protested, people begged him to stay. But the evil Mayor Richard Daley said, for lack of better words, “Be gone with you.” And he let this…not even a person, not a local face…this New Yorker come in and kick out Marshall Field.
It still hurts. I still miss him. It’s been four years. Four years, and it feels like yesterday. And Christmas…well, Christmas has never been the same. I don’t know what to do with myself at the holidays. No one offered up the holiday goodies like Marshall Field, and no one ever will. They say everyone is replaceable, not Marshall Field.
No one made my heart race at the holidays like Marshall Field did. No one made my heart sing at Christmastime like Marshall Field did. When Marshall Field left, so did some of my Christmas spirit. I still can’t bring myself to visit his replacement. I can barely say his replacement’s name…Macy’s.
Yes, that Macy’s, of “Miracle on 34th Street” fame. Macy’s of some 150 years of history. Marshall Field had been around Chicago since the 1860s in some form or another. Yes, Macy’s may have a lot of history. But it’s not Chicago history. It’s not my history. Marshall Field is my history.
Marshall Field was my go-to at Christmas. Not just for the things he offered, but also for the way his family treated me…like a lady, always—always—like a lady. Marshall Field believed the customer was always right. Who these days still believes that?
Marshall Field may have been just a place, a store to some people. Not to me. Marshall Field was home for the holidays.
And the holidays…well, they just aren’t the same without Marshall Field.
-30-
Copyright Bulldog News Services December 2009. All rights reserved.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
What has happened to journalism?
I find myself at a crossroads today. As a loyal reader of The Chicago Tribune for some 30 years, and as a professional journalist, I'm afraid I actually may have to cancel my subscription. The Tribune used to be, and proudly proclaimed itself so on its once mighty flag, "The World's Greatest Newspaper." That, for me, at least, no longer is the case. Today's front page — let me reiterate, FRONT PAGE — the most important page, carried above the fold a most unimportant story about the Illinois Lottery lady, Linda Kollmeyer, and her so-called "Lindaisms?"
This is what the Tribune has become? Is this what journalism has become? Fluff on the front page? When cities and villages and towns across the state are flooding and residents are crying out for help from their local and county governments to repair, to replace decades-old drainage infrastructure that does little now but...well, does little but increase flooding in many areas now? With scandal now seemingly a constant in state governments, with President Obama desperately trying to turn around the economy, we readers are treated to little more than teasers and advertisements on the front page of major metropolitan newspapers and little more than press releases in our so-called local newspapers? When news of the President of the United States is relegated to quick tidbits on Page 3 (another once sacred news page), shared with a story about how quilting can be edgy, and to left-hand pages once reserved for jumps (the continuation of articles)...is this is what journalism has become?
Have we as readers really caused this blatant dumbing down of newspapers? Is this really what our newspapers should be giving us with our morning coffee? Are our attention-spans so short now that all we can tolerate are little stories with really big pictures and graphics? How can we find out what's really going on in the world around us if so few are willing to invest in real reporting? The Tribune's flag now boasts "The Midwest's largest reporting team." Really? So, what. If you aren't going to use that team to report the news in the Midwest, what good is having the largest team in the Midwest?
There always has been a fine line between giving the readers what they want and what they need to know. But these days, all too often, newspapers in general are light on the things we need to know about, such as how President Obama's new education overhaul really affect us, how will the once bi-partisan funding bill affect you, how will it affect your neighbors? Your parents? Your children? Time was, newspapers used to report that kind of thing. Reporters used to ask the question, "How will this affect the everyday Joe?" Do we not do that any more? Do we not do that enough?
Are we as journalists to blame? Are we no longer asking the right questions? Does anyone even know what the right questions are anymore? In a time when there is less and less room for news because advertising revenues are down and, when there are ads, they take up three-quarters of a page, perhaps few of us journalists see fit to ask how this action or that motion or that new ordinance will affect the everyday newspaper reader. Do we quietly think to ourselves, why bother? So few papers print longer stories today, maybe there's just no room to satisfy all of the questions who, what, where, when, why and how? And that most important question of "How will it actually affect Joe or Jane Doe?"
Maybe it's time reporters take back journalism. Maybe it's time for journalists to take back newspapers. So many newspapers now are owned by conglomerates headed by bean-counters, by bottom-liners, by mega-moguls who admit they have little to no idea what journalism is, or was, all about. Why is that? And what does it mean for the future of our newspapers? What does it mean for our so-called "local" newspapers that today cover "news" no more local than two, three or four towns over, unless all you really want to read is the police blotter. Local newspapers are closing left and right. Why? Because mom-and-pop newspapers can't afford to keep on good reporters and because they can't afford to offend or scare off certain advertisers by printing in-depth or investigative pieces. Mom-and-pop newspapers are hurting because they can't afford the space to answer all the questions because the advertising revenue isn't there to support what's called the news hole. I say, it's a slippery slope we journalists are on. How do we as reporters take on newspapers' new owners? Can we? Dare we try? Would it matter?
If the readers don't care, if the readers are satisfied with softer news, if the readers are content with not learning how the actions of our leaders, of world leaders, will affect them, maybe all of this is moot. Could well be I'm totally off base. Maybe readers really don't care that the goings-on of the White House, that stories about terror suspects and stories about the expansion of Al Qaida are falling farther and farther to the back of the newspapers. Maybe readers really do want more stories about how quilting can be edgy.
If that is the case, then I am truly saddened. I started reading the newspaper because it was full of interesting information about what was going on in my town, about what my local, state and national governmental officials were doing and how it would affect my family and my neighbors. I continue to write for newspapers because I want to be a reporter who reports the news and how it will affect, as one wise scribe once said, "the guy in the green pick-up truck." That could be you driving that pick-up. Could it really be true that trends in quilting are more important to most readers than the latest developments in cancer research or where the U.S. is in hunting down Osama bin laden or what's happening in Afghanistan or how Secretary of State Hillary Clinton is doing in her new position?
If so, perhaps newspapers really are doomed. And if that's true, maybe we all are. After all, newspapers have been the cornerstones of so many of our lives for so long. Newspapers have chronicled everything from the "shot heard around the world" to the killings of our national heroes to the election of the first African American president. What if—just think about it—what if, newspapers stopped reporting the news?
-30-
Copyright Bulldog News Services 03/2009. All rights reserved.
This is what the Tribune has become? Is this what journalism has become? Fluff on the front page? When cities and villages and towns across the state are flooding and residents are crying out for help from their local and county governments to repair, to replace decades-old drainage infrastructure that does little now but...well, does little but increase flooding in many areas now? With scandal now seemingly a constant in state governments, with President Obama desperately trying to turn around the economy, we readers are treated to little more than teasers and advertisements on the front page of major metropolitan newspapers and little more than press releases in our so-called local newspapers? When news of the President of the United States is relegated to quick tidbits on Page 3 (another once sacred news page), shared with a story about how quilting can be edgy, and to left-hand pages once reserved for jumps (the continuation of articles)...is this is what journalism has become?
Have we as readers really caused this blatant dumbing down of newspapers? Is this really what our newspapers should be giving us with our morning coffee? Are our attention-spans so short now that all we can tolerate are little stories with really big pictures and graphics? How can we find out what's really going on in the world around us if so few are willing to invest in real reporting? The Tribune's flag now boasts "The Midwest's largest reporting team." Really? So, what. If you aren't going to use that team to report the news in the Midwest, what good is having the largest team in the Midwest?
There always has been a fine line between giving the readers what they want and what they need to know. But these days, all too often, newspapers in general are light on the things we need to know about, such as how President Obama's new education overhaul really affect us, how will the once bi-partisan funding bill affect you, how will it affect your neighbors? Your parents? Your children? Time was, newspapers used to report that kind of thing. Reporters used to ask the question, "How will this affect the everyday Joe?" Do we not do that any more? Do we not do that enough?
Are we as journalists to blame? Are we no longer asking the right questions? Does anyone even know what the right questions are anymore? In a time when there is less and less room for news because advertising revenues are down and, when there are ads, they take up three-quarters of a page, perhaps few of us journalists see fit to ask how this action or that motion or that new ordinance will affect the everyday newspaper reader. Do we quietly think to ourselves, why bother? So few papers print longer stories today, maybe there's just no room to satisfy all of the questions who, what, where, when, why and how? And that most important question of "How will it actually affect Joe or Jane Doe?"
Maybe it's time reporters take back journalism. Maybe it's time for journalists to take back newspapers. So many newspapers now are owned by conglomerates headed by bean-counters, by bottom-liners, by mega-moguls who admit they have little to no idea what journalism is, or was, all about. Why is that? And what does it mean for the future of our newspapers? What does it mean for our so-called "local" newspapers that today cover "news" no more local than two, three or four towns over, unless all you really want to read is the police blotter. Local newspapers are closing left and right. Why? Because mom-and-pop newspapers can't afford to keep on good reporters and because they can't afford to offend or scare off certain advertisers by printing in-depth or investigative pieces. Mom-and-pop newspapers are hurting because they can't afford the space to answer all the questions because the advertising revenue isn't there to support what's called the news hole. I say, it's a slippery slope we journalists are on. How do we as reporters take on newspapers' new owners? Can we? Dare we try? Would it matter?
If the readers don't care, if the readers are satisfied with softer news, if the readers are content with not learning how the actions of our leaders, of world leaders, will affect them, maybe all of this is moot. Could well be I'm totally off base. Maybe readers really don't care that the goings-on of the White House, that stories about terror suspects and stories about the expansion of Al Qaida are falling farther and farther to the back of the newspapers. Maybe readers really do want more stories about how quilting can be edgy.
If that is the case, then I am truly saddened. I started reading the newspaper because it was full of interesting information about what was going on in my town, about what my local, state and national governmental officials were doing and how it would affect my family and my neighbors. I continue to write for newspapers because I want to be a reporter who reports the news and how it will affect, as one wise scribe once said, "the guy in the green pick-up truck." That could be you driving that pick-up. Could it really be true that trends in quilting are more important to most readers than the latest developments in cancer research or where the U.S. is in hunting down Osama bin laden or what's happening in Afghanistan or how Secretary of State Hillary Clinton is doing in her new position?
If so, perhaps newspapers really are doomed. And if that's true, maybe we all are. After all, newspapers have been the cornerstones of so many of our lives for so long. Newspapers have chronicled everything from the "shot heard around the world" to the killings of our national heroes to the election of the first African American president. What if—just think about it—what if, newspapers stopped reporting the news?
-30-
Copyright Bulldog News Services 03/2009. All rights reserved.
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