Where the Millionaires Lived

Every city pushes its seams and expands outward, gobbling up land to satisfy its growing population. So it was with New York City in the 1880's. Manhattan is an island with obvious boundaries. So the initial settlements on its southern tip could only move north. The neighborhoods that started as places for the wealthy to live (around the place that's now the Lower East Side) were a bit boggy and so were abandoned for dryer land up north. After the Civil War the wealthy chose the area around 5th Avenue and the Thirties to build their mansions. This is where the rich live in my novel Masquerade. 

I always enjoy basing a house on a real house, and chose the A.T. Stewart mansion that sat on the northwest corner of 5th Avenue and Thirty-fourth. It took over five years to build and when it was finished in 1869 it had cost $1.5 million. In today's money that's about $37.5 million. Pretty much beyond comprehension!

Doesn't it looks like a library? It was the first residential showplace in NYC and was deemed "palatial". This is the foyer and one of the bedrooms. All rooms shown here were figured into scenes in my novel.

Mrs. Stewart also had her own art gallery. She had a huge collection of artwork—that she mostly kept to herself. The art room was 70' x 30' x 50' tall. She and Mr. Stewart had no children yet lived in this 55-room house. He (like my patriarch, Martin Tremaine) earned his fortune by starting a department store: Stewart's Dry Goods. I'll go through details of stores of the time in a separate post.

An interesting thing about the Stewart mansion is that their neighbor to the south was William B. Astor II and his wife, Caroline, or THE Mrs. Astor. She was the head of New York society and her approval or disdain had the power to make or break people. And yet her house was a fairly simple brownstone. Here's a picture of it in 1897. It's the small building on the right. On the left is the original Waldorf-Astoria Hotel. It was built by William Waldorf Astor on the site of his family home after he decided to move to England permanently in 1891. It was built in great part to annoy his Aunt Lina who lived next door. A family feud over who was the head of society and all that.

As early as the 1870's, the encroaching commercialization of the area led the social set to move north to Fifth Avenue and the "Fifties" to build their houses. The bigger the better. The upstart Vanderbilt family created mansions that made the Stewart house look like a guest house. Some of these mansions remain--with new uses, but the Stewart mansion was demolished in 1902. Progress, you know.

And what now sits where the Astor brownstone and the old Waldorf-Astoria sat? The Empire State Building.

If you'd like to read more of my Gilded Age novels, try the sequel to Masquerade, called An Unlikely Suitor,  and A Bridal Quilt, which is in the novella anthology A Patchwork Christmas.  //Nancy Moser

Shopping: Paper or Plastic?

In this season of Christmas shopping we are faced with the question: Paper or plastic? Believe it or not, that familiar line has only been around since 1977. But what about when there were no shopping bags. Can you even fathom it?

When I was writing Masquerade which is set in 1886, the story involves a department store. I needed to find out how shoppers got their goods from store to home. Turns out they often had the purchases delivered. In New York City, millions of packages a year. Free delivery became a marketing tool. And small goods were often wrapped in paper and tied. Women had trouble enough getting around town in bustled dresses and intricate hats, much less carrying around a myriad of bags.

So when was the shopping bag invented? Let’s back up. The paper bag was invented in 1852 by Francis Wolle. He and his brother started the Union Paper Bag Machine Company after the Civil War. Yet paper bags were flawed. They were often shaped like envelopes, were made of flimsy paper, had to be pasted together by hand, didn’t collapse and store easily, and their V-shaped bottoms prevented them from standing up on their own. The next improvement came in 1870 when Margaret Knight invented a machine to cut, fold, and paste paper bag bottoms. 

In 1883 Charles Stilwell developed the square-bottom paper bag with another improvement: pleated sides. It was named the S.O.S., or Self-Opening Sack. Hey, I used one of those the other day at the grocery store.

I’m going to digress about Margaret Knight a bit, because she was quite the woman. Over her lifetime Margaret had 90 inventions and 22 patents. She developed her bag-making machine when she was only 33, while working at the paper factory. The first one was out of wood, but then she developed one out of iron. But Charles Annan, a man who was visiting the factory, stole her idea and tried to get a patent on it. Instead of backing down, Margaret filed a patent interference suit against him. She spent $100 a day plus expenses for sixteen days of depositions from herself and other witnesses. Annan’s defense? He claimed that because Margaret was a woman she wasn’t capable of understanding such a complex machine. Margaret’s offense? Her detailed notes, diary entries, and trial and error samples validated her creative process. The court ruled in her favor. "I'm not surprised at what I've done. I'm only sorry I couldn't have had as good a chance as a boy, and have been put to my trade regularly." Margaret Knight was inducted in the National Inventors Hall of Fame in 2006.

Back to the shopping bag—the real ones with handles. You see, people were restricted in how much they could buy because they were limited by what they could carry in a bag held in their arms. In 1912, Minnesota grocer Walter H. Deubner, created a paper bag with a cord running through it for strength. His bag could hold 75 pounds of groceries. He sold the bag for five cents and within three years was selling a million bags a year. That’s a lot of groceries.

Only in the 1930’s were bags given away, and in 1933 they finally—finally—added a handle.  The Smithsonian has 1000 in their collection.  As we all know, bags became a status symbol and a means of advertising.  Who wouldn’t like to carry around a shopping bag from Neiman Marcus or Tiffany? In the latter’s case, a small bag is a good bag.//Nancy Moser

The Ladies Mile

When we shop we often go to a mall, where all the stores are consolidated in one place. But just like the idea of the department store (see last week's blog), the idea of creating an area especially for shopping is over 160 years old. In the late 1850's in New York City, the Ladies Mile was born. The demand for "department stores" was growing so quickly, the retailers responded by moving close together uptown. The area on Broadway and 6th Avenue between 9th and 23rd Streets, came to be called the "Ladies Mile" (it's now encompassed in the "Flatiron District".)

Remember the saying, Build it and they will come. Oh yeah. They came. In droves. An article in the New York World newspaper said that if you wrote out a listing of all the items sold at Macy's it "would reach Central Park." The article further described Macy's, saying it had "spread itself out along Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue until one is at a loss to tell where it begins or where it ends. It is a bazaar, a museum, a hotel, and a great fancy store all combined."
Adding to the allure were large windows showing off the merchandise. Again, we take this for granted, but "window shopping" was something new in the nineteenth century. It started with Bloomingdale's. The usual practice was to clutter up a display window with a bunch of goods available inside. But Bloomingdale's—and soon all the other stores—started decorating the windows with fewer items and more props, creating scenes and an ambiance. A lure to come inside.

Henry Collins Brown, curator of the Museum of the City of New York in 1892, said the Ladies Mile had a "champagne sparkle." Further, "All the world came to Broadway to shop, to dine, to flirt, to find amusement, and to meet acquaintances." Department stores lined the street, but there were also exclusive specialty stores like Brooks Brothers, Tiffany's, and Thorley's House of Flowers. Thorley's was the first florist to use the long white box full of long-stemmed flowers packed in tissue. The exterior of their building was also an attraction, as it was decorated top to bottom with plants and flowers.

Many of these buildings remain--repurposed as the stores moved north. You can see photos here: Ladies Mile Historic District//Nancy Moser

Let's go Shopping!

Shop 'til you drop. In regard to women and shopping, my husband teases me, saying that women stand outside stores waiting for them to open, yelling, "I've got money! Let me in!"

Actually, the day after Thanksgiving that's not far off. Last year I went out at 5 a.m. for a special deal. When I came out of the store I was taken aback to realize the sun was just coming up.

Is this love of shopping a new phenomenon? Nope. Enclosed malls may be a fairly recent invention, but the department store? It's been around New York City since 1858. Pre-Civil War. Macy's was one of the first, but other stores eventually popped up: Lord & Taylor, Bergdorf Goodman, Bloomingdale's, and A.T. Stewart's.

Stewarts isn't around anymore, but it was the inspiration for the department store owned by the Tremaines in my novel Masquerade. Their original downtown store at 280 Broadway can still be seen and is known as the "Sun Building" because the New York Sun newspaper had its offices there for decades. Stewart's was heralded for its grand staircase and skylit atrium. You didn't just go to the department stores to shop, but to have an experience.

Many of the stores got such a following that they began to manufacture their own brand of goods. Macy's had "Red star" silk and velveteen, and were the exclusive distributor of Foster kid gloves in New York. They also made their own line of underclothing, linen articles, and men's shirts.

Stores began to advertise—which was heretofore unheard of. And as competition grew, they earned their customers' business by offering additional services. "Granted that the merchandise was of acceptable quality, people tended to patronize the stores which gave them the most attractive surrounds, the most convenient delivery, and the most satisfactory all-around treatment." In 1888 Macy's announced it would deliver goods in a 100-mile radius for free ($5 minimum order.) It worked well. In 1896-97 Macy's delivered 2.5 million packages a year! Seventy-five percent were delivered by Macy's own people (at a cost to them of 7.85 cents per package) with the rest subbed out for delivery (which cost 8.75 cents/package.)

Unlike many of its competitors, Macy's didn't allow customers to buy on credit. "Cash only" kept their prices down. A perk we take for granted was considered revolutionary at this time: the ability to return goods. Customer satisfaction came to the forefront, allowing customers to return defective merchandise. But it wasn't as carte blanche as it is today. There had to be a reason. But Macy's always gave you more than you asked for.  They erred on the side of the customer.

Some stores offered luxurious "rest" rooms for those who'd traveled from a distance. In 1892 Macy's advertised a sumptuous ladies "waiting room" that included $11,200 in artwork (about $250,000 in today's money.) Lunchrooms made it possible to stay on the premises to refuel. Elevators made it easy for customers to have access to additional floors. Electric lights and even electric fans made shopping more pleasurable: "Electric fans supply artificial breezes. They're as pleasant and inspiring as the winds that blow from wooded hill tops."  Department stores opened up another job opportunity to young women, many who left home to work there. One young woman, Margaret Getchell La Forge, started as a cashier at Macy's but was promoted to bookkeeper and then superintendent—one of the first women executives.

Macy's was determined to undercut the prices of all others. They had employees who scoured their competitors' stores to make sure Macy's prices were lowest. Once, in 1902, Macy's had some Japanese silks that sold for .41/yard. Hearn & Son started a price war. It ended the next day with Macy's selling the product for 11 yards for .01! This kind of price slashing was rare, but Macy's was also known for advertising comparative prices for like items. What one did, the others were often forced to do to keep up.

Dresses were often customized and made in-house. In Masquerade I have a "Pretty Woman" type scene, with the main character trying on clothing in a department store, with her man sitting close by, giving his approval—and paying the tab. In the 1886 Bloomingdale's catalog, clothing was offered in a multiple of color and fabric options. And if you wanted the trim changed, you simply had to include a fabric swatch so they could match the color. If you ordered a hat, you were to state your complexion color so a hat could be made that was flattering. This illustration shows a dress from the Bloomingdale's catalog. The caption says: "No. 41. Very handsome suit of plain material, trimmed with yak-lace; skirt with 3 rows of lace flouncing; short front drapery looped at side with ribbon bows; puffed back drapery; plain jersey waist; camel's hair or homespun. $21.75 and 24.50. No 42. Same of Cashmere or Nun's Veiling, trimmed with Egyptian or oriental lace….. $16.50, 18.75 and 20.50."

Catalogs were created for rural customers to pour over. Hence the term "wish books". If you ever find an original one, hang onto it, as they were so heavily used it's hard to find one intact.

Then, as now, shopping in department stores was often a women's event. Men were slower to change their ways and buy their clothing at such a place. That's why many stores put the men's departments on the first floor, to lure men inside for a quick job of it.  My husband would approve.

What did small specialty shops think of the department stores? What do small stores today think of Wal-mart and Target? They were not—and are not—amused. But progress will not be denied.  I have money!  Let me in! /Nancy Moser