Looking back to the days when shopping felt special — and the bag came free.
There was a time — not so long ago — when shopping in one of Philadelphia’s grand department stores was something close to an event. Wanamaker’s, Strawbridge’s, Lit Brothers — even the names sound elegant now, like characters from an old novel. Stepping inside felt like crossing into another world.
Floorwalkers guided you to the right counter. Elevator attendants in neat uniforms whisked you between floors, their white gloves gleaming as they opened the gates. At Wanamaker’s, the Crystal Tea Room offered chicken salad on china and a pot of tea poured from silver. Music from the massive pipe organ drifted through the Grand Court, where families arranged to “meet me at the Eagle” — that towering bronze bird whose wings seemed to promise that shopping could, at least for an afternoon, feel like civic pride.
And when you finally made your purchase, it was wrapped in tissue, sealed with care, and slipped into a crisp paper bag bearing the store’s crest. That bag was more than packaging; it was a badge of participation in something larger — a public ritual of good taste and good manners. The store thanked you for your business by sending you home carrying its name. And what did that courtesy cost you? Not a penny.
🛍️ Want a Bag with That? ❓
Today, even that small gesture carries a price tag. My township recently joined others across the region in banning single-use plastic bags — a well-intentioned step toward sustainability. Still, the first time I faced the checkout under this new rule, I felt the same hesitation as the shopper ahead of me: Would I invest in a reusable nylon tote for a dollar? Pay ten cents for paper? Or attempt the juggling act of loose groceries in the parking lot?
Progress, it seems, has made even the humble shopping bag a moral decision.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m glad to see fewer plastic bags tangled in trees or floating down creeks. But somewhere between the self-checkout kiosk and the donation bin, we lost the small niceties that once made buying something feel human. The efficiency of modern shopping has come at a quiet cost: we’ve traded experience for speed, civility for convenience.
🪙 Small Change, Big Picture 🖼️
As I dug for twenty cents to pay for two paper bags, I had to laugh. There I was, paying extra to advertise for free — a customer footing the bill for courtesy itself. Maybe that’s just how progress works: it takes away the little gestures we never thought to miss, and then sells them back to us in the name of improvement.
If old John Wanamaker were still around, I imagine he’d shake his head at our self-checkout world, where service is optional and even the bag comes à la carte. But maybe he’d also recognize something hopeful in it — that people still care enough to debate the value of small things, to remember what they once meant.
Because the truth is, the bag itself doesn’t matter much. What we really miss is the feeling that someone took care — that commerce, at its best, was a conversation, not just a transaction. And as long as we keep noticing the difference, there’s hope that the courtesy can return, one little paper bag at a time.
🎶 When Shopping Came with a Soundtrack 🎹
Long before the era of overhead speakers and streaming playlists, Philadelphians shopped to the live sound of the world’s largest pipe organ.
When John Wanamaker installed the instrument in 1911 — a 28,000-pipe marvel first built for the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair — he intended it not just for concerts, but for everyday atmosphere. The store employed a full-time organist, whose daily recitals turned shopping into a cultural experience.
Throughout the 1920s and beyond, brief performances echoed through the marble Grand Court twice a day, mixing Bach and Sousa with the popular melodies of the time. Shoppers paused to listen; clerks leaned against counters to catch a few notes. Even lunch crowds at the Crystal Tea Room planned their meals around the music schedule.
Though the department store has since closed, the tradition of live music endures. Today, the Grand Court still fills with sound during special programs presented by Opera Philadelphia and the Friends of the Wanamaker Organ, ensuring that — even without a sales floor — the building remains one of Philadelphia’s most extraordinary public stages.
🎵 Top Ten Hits of 1925: What You Might Have Heard at Wanamaker’s
- “Yes Sir, That’s My Baby” – Walter Donaldson & Gus Kahn
Playful and full of pep, this tune swept the country in 1925. You can practically hear shoppers humming it as they head for the elevators — jaunty rhythm, instant grin. - “I’m Sitting on Top of the World” – Al Jolson
Pure optimism set to a snappy beat. The lyrics — “Just rolling along, just singing a song” — felt tailor-made for the roaring decade’s self-confidence. - “Sweet Georgia Brown” – Ben Bernie, Maceo Pinkard & Kenneth Casey
A jazz sensation that’s still iconic today. Back then, its syncopated swing made it a hit for both dance bands and organists adapting popular melodies for shoppers. - “If You Knew Susie (Like I Know Susie)” – Buddy DeSylva & Joseph Meyer
Eddie Cantor turned this cheeky tune into a national craze. It’s easy to picture a store organist sneaking it into an afternoon set, to smiles from the sales floor. - “Dinah” – Harry Akst, Sam M. Lewis & Joe Young
Originally sung by Ethel Waters, this number had bluesy warmth and big-band sparkle — a reminder that Philadelphia audiences already loved their jazz. - “Always” – Irving Berlin
A romantic waltz that would’ve soared on the organ’s pipes. Berlin dedicated it to his wife, and its lush chords fit perfectly beneath Wanamaker’s vaulted ceiling. - “Manhattan” – Rodgers & Hart
Sophisticated, witty, and modern — a theater song that captured the new urban rhythm of life. The organ’s grandeur might have turned it into something almost symphonic. - “Who? (Stole My Heart Away)” – Jerome Kern, Otto Harbach & Oscar Hammerstein II
From the hit musical Sunny, this one blended romance and melody. Department-store organists often drew from Broadway scores to keep their repertoires fresh. - “Collegiate” – Moe Jaffe & Nat Bonx
A campus-craze anthem recorded by Fred Waring & His Pennsylvanians — another local tie! A bright, brass-band energy that echoed the youth culture of the ’20s. - “Ukulele Lady” – Richard A. Whiting & Gus Kahn
The uke was everywhere in 1925, and this lilting tune captured its charm. On the Wanamaker Organ, it would’ve been pure whimsy — Hawaiian sunshine under the Eagle.
Bonus: “Five Foot Two, Eyes of Blue (Has Anybody Seen My Girl?)” — still one of the era’s most instantly recognizable earworms, and a guaranteed crowd-pleaser on any instrument.
🕯️ The Light Still Shines at Wanamaker’s ✨
When Macy’s closed in March, many feared the end of Philadelphia’s most beloved holiday traditions: the Wanamaker Light Show, Dickens Village, and the music of the Grand Court Organ beneath the bronze Eagle.
Now, those lights — and that music — are returning.
Thanks to a grassroots fundraising campaign led by the Philadelphia Visitor Center and new building owner TF Cornerstone, the Light Show and Dickens Village will return this Thanksgiving, free to the public. More than 700 donors have already contributed toward the $350,000 goal to keep the holiday magic alive. @phlvisitorcenter
At the same time, Opera Philadelphia’s new “Pipe Up!” series has begun filling the Grand Court with live music once again, reawakening the Wanamaker Organ and welcoming audiences back for concerts and art installations supported by local arts foundations. Performances are scheduled through November, many free and open to the public. @operaphila
Together, these efforts signal a hopeful future for the iconic space — proof that while retail may have left Market Street, the community spirit that once defined Wanamaker’s still shines bright.
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