When I was just a little girl my mother and I would travel from Rohnert Park to Santa Rosa for a very special shopping trip. This usually happened on a Saturday once a month. My older brother and my father would be working on the yard, as my mother packs me into the car and waves goodbye to my dad. It was girl's shopping day.
We travel up 101, take the downtown Santa Rosa exit and drive up Third Street towards a local icon. We pull into a large parking lot where a “greeter” directs us to the first available parking space.
We have just arrived at Rosenburg’s Department Store.
Like a mammoth monument to the sky, the Rosenburg store stretches upwards so high that it seems to touch the clouds. Crystal clean glass doors open to invite us into the hidden treasures of this famous department store. It was like entering another world. Wide waxed tile floors guide our path like the yellow brick road to Oz. Ladies carrying orange boxes with handles and the name Rosenburg's printed on the side smile as we pass them. They have "the box", those famous perfect clothing boxes where Rosenburg's placed your purchases.
We stop at the elevator, where a white gloved elevator operator greets us and opens the cage to the elevator. It was a manual elevator, where the operator controls the elevator, taking customers to the mezzanine and second floor. It was my favorite object in the whole store ... well ... next to the famous jeans wall with wooden ladders.
Back in the far corner of the second floor is the Brownie and Girls Scout section. To me, it seemed like they had everything a young girl could ever want. I remember my excitement when my mother hands me the large orange Brownie book and told me to carry it to the register.
She then went on to buy my Brownie uniform, orange tie, orange and brown socks, gloves, and matching hat. It was official: I am going to be a Brownie. Now what kid would not like to be named after a thick piece of chocolate?
The McNeany's own the store, and most importantly Mr. Bill McNeany, who always walked the store, dressed in a suit, checking on all the departments making sure every customer was getting the attention they deserved. At Rosenburg's they call you by your name.
My first jeans (Levi's of course) came from Rosenburgs. To this day it was the largest selection of folded jeans I have ever seen in one location. They were stacked from the floor to the tall ceilings covering a massive back wall. Tall wooden ladders on rollers slid along wooden bars taking the salesperson from one end of the jeans stacks to the other. They would yell and throw them down to each other - it was like watching a stage show. Rosenburg's guaranteed they would always have your size, and they always did.
Mr. McNeany hired the very young and the very gorgeous to work in the jeans department. When I was a young girl I failed to appreciate this aspect, but as I grew into a teenager I couldn't wait to go check out the "Rosenburg guys" in the jeans department. They were hot!! The "Rosenburg guys" loved to guess your exact jeans size and were usually dead-on every time.
After my father's death, I went on to the local Junior College and worked at a local Bank in the computer center. I hated it. Lost, depressed and hating my major I switched to the more creative, artistic classes. A woman who employed me several times for modeling work, called to inform me that Rosenburg's was hiring for Christmas, and I was just the type of girl they liked to have in their store. She had arranged a meeting with the HR manager for me.
I think I ran to the interview.
I landed the job and felt like I was just admitted to this elite club of cute sales people in this up-scale store. I was placed in the accessory department, right next to the silk scarfs. This was perfect for me, because with all my girls scout knot training and my creative side, I can tie anything and make it a work of art. I sold more scarfs that Christmas than they had in three years. They wanted me as a permanent employee - I was officially in!
Of course no one told me that I had to be a stock girl before I could be a salesperson, and I was placed on the second floor in fine women's fashions. It was located just off the Wedding department. The next youngest salesperson on this floor was 38 - I was 19. The other salespeople and managers were 40-100 (and I am not kidding). I was the only "young person" on the whole second floor.
Just beyond the massive cash resister station was the alteration department. Hidden behind this large swinging bar type door was a world and culture beyond anything I had experienced in my young life. Eight seamstresses lined one long wall of sewing machines. They were from Russia, Poland, Mexico, Puerto Rico, Germany and America.
Now, if you knew me growing up, ironing was not my thing. My mother did my ironing and when she made me iron I complained and bitched so much that she stopped asking me. In Rosenburg's it was the stock person's job to press every garment that was to be placed on the floor. It was also our responsibility to remove all the manufacturer's tags and hang the price tag together with these tags on the lower right side - away from where they would interfere in trying on the garment. What a concept, huh?
It was my job to make sure everything in the fine women's department looked like the show rooms of Paris and my boss rode my ass to insure her department was the best. Little did she know she had hired the world's worst iron girl in the West. On my first day I was sent to the alterations room to steam iron a pile of evening gowns made of fabrics I had never seen. I placed the first exquisite gown on the pulley and grabbed the steam iron like a pro and proceeded to steam burn the silk tie at the neck, taking it from a long 8 inch tie to a tiny burnt knot ball. I screamed. All the alterations ladies stopped their work and rushed to me.
I was sure I was about to be fired, and little did I know that this stunt would endear me to all the ladies in the alterations department for life. Vera, the one from Russia began talking in a language I did not understand and Rose runs over to a large box of scrap fabrics. After digging through the box for what seemed like a lifetime, (while the other ladies console me and Vera has managed to pull the neck apart to the gown and removed the burnt fabric ball) Rose comes up with a piece of fabric that looks remarkably like the gown.
The next thing I know, like something from a magic show, they are cutting, matching and sewing, while Vera instructs and points. Meanwhile, one of the other seamstresses is teaching me the 'proper' way to steam a fine garment. (GOOD LUCK). Before I can say "Whodoneit" Vera has sewn on a complete new tie. It was perfect, except it was about four inches shorter than the original. "Just stick it on the floor, she won't notice" Vera tells me speaking of my boss. "It's ugly anyways and will probably end up on the sale rack, your disaster makes it look better" she continues and pushes me out the door to place the gown out on the showroom floor. As the door swings shut I hear them all bust out laughing. From this day on they all treat me like their daughter.
My boss never noticed, but that damn gown never did sell and stayed in the store for what seemed like three years. It eventually was donated to Good Will. After nine months of living with a steamer, I asked to join the Bridal Department and become a Wedding Consultant. Mr. McNeany gave his nod and my new career was born.
I met Joe on my first day on the job at Rosenburgs. He was one of those hot Rosenburg's guys and we became instant friends. He asked me out for ice cream and I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Donna from fine jewelry came along and the three of us were to become like the three musketeers - never apart for the next three years. Joe was from this large Italian family (all boys) and eventually all the brothers, Joe, Donna and I would spend our weekends together. I think we danced at every nightclub from Ukiah to Napa to San Francisco.
It was the perfect college life.
To be continued...
