Thoughts on Nordstrom's

Nordstrom is a mixed bag, just as are all mega department stores.  Once upon a time Nordstrom's was a small shoe store on the Ave., in the University District in Seattle.  I was out of work and not having much success finding another job.  This was about 1955.  I'd called everyone I knew, which wasn't a big bunch of people, but one older acquaintance was a psychiatrist who'd befriended me at the University of Washington.  He told me that he would call a friend of his who owned a shoe store.  Soon he called me back and said his friend would hire me if I came around the next day.  It was Mister Nordstrom.  The old man himself.  Boy!  I was walking on air as I trotted along the Ave. from the bus.  Smiling at the thought of becoming America's Top Shoe Salesman. 

Half a block away I came to a dead standstill.  Could it be?  I rubbed my eyes and looked again.  Then I slowly turned and walked back to the bus. 

Pacing back and forth in front of that Nordstrom's store were the salespeople, demanding better pay and benefits.  In all of my 20 years, at the time, I had never crossed a picket line.  And I should add that in all of my 77 years I have never done so.  That wonderful job being offered to me belonged to someone else.

I called my professor friend and told him what had happened.  I was sure he'd understand.  Instead, he shouted in my ear, "I went out on the limb for you.  You have embarrassed me!"  He slammed down the phone and we never spoke again. 

But I had to look Carl in the face every day of the rest of my life.  And I had to look at my dad, who'd taught me to respect working class people.  That professor chose his friends, and I chose mine.  We walked in different worlds.  I understood this then and I understand it now.  Far too many of us fail to see this.  We are not on a par with the Ruling Class, nor even with the wealthy.  We do not need to support their causes.  They are fully capable enough to do that on their own.  We need to stand together, as Working Class men and women, and defend our own causes. 

 

Carl Jarvis

----- Original Message -----

From: Alice Dampman Humel

To: Blind Democracy Discussion List

Sent: Saturday, August 18, 2012 9:16 PM

Subject: Re: Reading may do me in.

So see, Nordstrom's isn't entirely the big villain 

after all now, is it? 

Alice On Aug 18, 2012, at 2:40 PM, Carl Jarvis <carjar82@gmail.com> wrote:

Miriam,

And be thankful that you are old enough that you no longer have a mother picking out your clothes. 

So many of the young women who attended the OTC had mother to shop with(for) them.  Comely young lasses looking like Old Mother Hubbard.  We began bringing in a woman from Nordstrom's to consult with our female students, not only in selection of clothing, but in make-up, hair styles and each woman's individual colors.  Soon the men began sitting in and this lovely lady embraced them, too.  Of course they all took their business to Nordstrom's, but none of the other department stores offered to match this service.  And after a while our students began to make a real fashion statement.  Which was a problem for my casual, goosy loosy style of dress. 

In the Center, I wore slacks, an open collar shirt and comfortable shoes.  But in management meetings and any time I represented the Agency, I kept a white shirt, dress shoes, a suit and tie hanging in my work closet. 

Around 1979 or 1980 Cathy took me by the hand and talked me into buying two pair of dress shoes, a really decent suit and some stylish ties. 

32 years later and I still wear those shoes when dressing up.  One black pair and one brown.  I've worn them so seldom that they are like new.  I think I'll Will them to my son. 

I could still wear the suit if it hadn't shrunk about 40 pounds.  Of course the ties are now gathering dust with my original ancient neck wear, and are probably close to collectors items. 

 

Carl Jarvis