Me and Mom
Back in the days, before Cable, Super Walmart’s and,
online shopping sites, most people ordered what they needed for their homes
from the ‘Curtain Man’. I’m talking about the late ’40’s and ’50’s when doctors
made house visits and milk, eggs and butter were delivered to our doorstep by
the Abbotts milkman.
Even our fruit and vegetables could be purchased fresh
daily during summer months from a horse-drawn wagon. In South Philly, we even
had a man who would show up every Friday afternoon to sharpen the neighborhood’s
knives and scissors on his grinding stone pushcart. But, the person who
families anticipated the most was the Curtain Man. As soon as the lanky
salesman with the big brown suitcase walked up our street, housewives would
grab their payment books and cash.
The Wizard
I don’t remember the Curtain Man’s name, but by the
time I was three years old I had begun to associate our next door neighbor’s
knocking on our front door with my mother’s running for her purse. The curtain
man, always dressed in a suit, was young and wore thick glasses. It wasn’t him
that made the ladies drool, but what he had in his suitcase. It wasn’t until
much later, and after seeing The Wizard of Oz, that I understood the magic of
that suitcase.
This man had samples of just about everything a
housewife would need for her home: curtains, pots and pans, dishes, glassware
and kitchen towels. My mother would order what she needed and once the product
was delivered the following week by Mr. Curtain Man, my mother would make
weekly payments which she’d mark down in her payment book.
The Curtain Man never complained when I would look
through the suitcase, touching the curtains or lacey hankies and, he never came
empty-handed for the kids. There was always a lollipop waiting for me before he
left our home. Around the month of November, he would even sell a few items for
Christmas: dolls, train sets, books.
Me and Dad
One day, my dad happened to be home when Mr. Curtain
Man stopped by. My dad was a conductor on the trolley system; the old PTC
system that later became Septa. My dad was making good money at the time and on
the day he was home, Mr. Curtain Man had something new to sell. At that time, no one on our
block owned a television set.
When Curtain Man explained the payment system, my
dad was hooked and the set, ordered. It wasn’t that big of a screen, maybe 8 by 10
inches, but every Saturday night, most of the neighbors came over to watch a
variety show. In 1949, there were only three stations and a handful of shows to
watch. All were done live. Eventually, as the economy got better and our
neighbors were making better money, they began to purchase their own sets.
As more cars filled up our empty street and as
people became more mobile, my mother and the other women would head out to Gimbel's or Wanamaker’s in Center City Philadelphia and, the magical Curtain Man
came to our house, less and less.
Conclusion
Everyone drives to the malls nowadays to do their
shopping, or they order online. We buy our groceries from big mega shopping
centers. Strangers at our doors are seldom welcomed with open arms. The world
has grown caustic, and now, we worry that the salesman at the door might
possibly be a thief or worse.
When I tell my grandchildren that milk was delivered
fresh to our door every day, they assume we kept a cow in our backyard. When I
tell them about the Curtain Man and his magical suitcase, I get blank stares or
sarcastic comments, “Was this during the dinosaur days?”
Love your Fred & Lucy posts! :D
ReplyDeleteThank you,Janice
DeleteNever heard of this. My mother remembers a man selling soup and dry goods. She called him the Soup Man. She mentioned the Fuller Brush guy, and of course, the Milk Man.
ReplyDeleteI guess different sections of the city had their own name for the guys. Everyone on our street called him the curtain man, only God knows what company he represented because he sold everything.
DeleteThis is wonderful, Marie. I, too, love your Fred & Lucy posts. [They are less scary than the zombie posts. :/] Those were the times when people and personality mattered. My dad used to tell me about the old lady who sold rags and chavella water, some kind of cleaner. All the ladies used to flock to the streets to get clean rags and household cleaning fluid from this woman. I used phonetic spelling for chavella. She used to sing it out slowly.
ReplyDeleteThank you Victoria. I remember the chavella water, too. I think it was a type of bleach that they would use on the marble front steps.
Delete