Once a Year

The annual Christmas rush had an atmosphere which shoppers had not sniffed since before Pearl Harbor.

During the last six years, many a customer had become a prey to the demoralizing phobia that clerks would refuse to take his money unless he were polite. But last week, almost every big department store was doing its utmost to revive half-forgotten reputations for courtesy.

Atlanta's Davison-Paxon store sent its customers dollar bills and asked that they be awarded to courteous clerks. In Seattle, Frederick & Nelson kept a company spy prowling the aisles. His job: giving orchids to polite salesgirls. The help, apparently a little stunned by such thoughtful practices, was positively charming.

The customer acted differently, too. Part of his changed behavior was doubtless due to the discovery that once again he was always right. But mostly it stemmed from the sight of inflated prices. Shoppers who had once thrown down money as carelessly as a drunk winning at roulette now clutched billfold and handbag with a kind of desperate disbelief, and began pinching and prodding the merchandise.

But this did not mean that the great U.S. buying boom had collapsed or even slackened. Actually, the nation was in the throes of the greatest dollar-volume buying spree in history. In Manhattan one day last week, Macy's sold $1,400,000 worth of merchandise--an alltime record-- and smugly decided to quit publicizing million-dollar days. Department stores in almost every other big city in the nation had record sales days.

For there was more money in circulation than ever before, and few shoppers, even after days of eyeing high-priced goods, could shake off the desire to buy. Many attempted to solve the dilemma by taking extra-expensive articles in the hope of getting quality goods.

In Manhattan, Gimbels was doing a good business in grand pianos and $4,000 mink coats. Cartier was having no trouble selling superexpensive jewelry. Example: a three-strand diamond necklace with matching earrings for $29,000. Capehart de luxe record players were in demand at $1,595. Many a shopper took expensive Lionel electric trains ($22.50 to $75) in preference to cheaper sets. Everywhere, luxury items vanished rapidly from store counters.

Cried a woman in a Seattle department-store elevator: "Honest, it's a sin to buy so much with prices like they are. The way I figure, Harry's paycheck is worth half of what it was eight years ago. So when the salesgirl tells me how much something costs, I just divide it in two in my head. That way, I don't feel so bad. . . ."

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