Now & Then: Back to school shopping, circa 1955

It was that time again, the annual back-to-school shopping day.

My parents loaded me, my two older brothers and my too-young-for-school little brother into the car and headed up Highway 220 for Greensboro. It would be a long day but at least we’d get to see the Gate City.

As we topped the last hill, I saw the Jefferson Standard building, at that time the tallest in the state. Daddy drove straight into downtown and parked on Elm Street.

We first entered a large department store but the prices were a bit out of Daddy’s budget. As we walked out onto the covered sidewalk, I saw a brightly dressed figure with a black top hat and a monocle over one eye. He spooned me a handful of nuts.

“Mr. Peanut!” I cried. “Thanks.”

We got back in the car and Daddy drove a couple of blocks over to the Sears-Roebuck store. It was three stories and at each stairwell were large photos of iconic Greensboro sights.

I tried on a pair of shoes and Mama fingered the toes to see how they fit. The salesman then led me over to an upright device with a slot for my foot. 

“Look at the screen,” he said, pointing to the top of the device. I looked down and saw my foot inside the outline of the shoe.

“It appears to fit him well,” the salesman said of the X-ray image.

With us boys well-shod for the school year, we got back into the car and soon arrived at the Big GI 1200 on Bessemer Avenue. Inside were rows of tables loaded with blue jeans, shirts, boots and other clothing items.

We came out with jeans and shirts, not to mention socks and undies. We were just about ready for school to begin.

But wait. Daddy headed east to the largest store I’d ever seen. The name on the front was Clark’s, and it was one of the first big-box stores in the area.

Inside, there were rows and rows of goods, from clothing to hardware to housewares to toys. 

Oh, and stacks and stacks of notebooks, loose-leaf paper, pens and pencils. Now we were ready for school.

But Mama and Daddy wouldn’t leave. You see, they lived through the Great Depression and shopping was a big deal to them.

Finally, seeing us boys with pale faces and glassy eyes similar to those of wanderers stranded in a desert, my parents had compassion and headed us out the door.

“This calls for a reward,” Daddy said, not revealing the surprise. He just headed west, all the way to the other side of town to a community known as Friendship.

“Hey, it’s the airport!” one of us boys shouted with glee, pointing at the tips of airliner tail sections sticking up from behind the buildings.

Daddy parked the car and we walked into the terminal. We went up a set of stairs that led to the observation deck.

Down below we saw a pair of four-engine prop airliners on the tarmac. The grounds crew was pushing a set of stairs up to one on the giant planes.

Soon, a long line of passengers strode up to the stairs and ascended to the door before disappearing inside. When everyone was on board, the crew removed the stairs and a stewardess closed the door.

A grounds crew member with orange batons signaled to the pilot and one of the engines roared to life, blowing out black smoke from its exhaust. Soon all four engines had started, spinning their propellers and creating a wind. When they were warmed up sufficiently the man on the ground motioned for the pilot to move the plane around.

As the great bird pivoted, we felt the blast from the props, and I had to grab my cap to keep it from blowing away.

The plane then taxied out and turned to face the 10,000-foot runway. It sat there idling momentarily and then must have received the OK from the control tower. 

One by one, the engines revved up so high I thought the props would fly off. Imperceptibly at first, the great flying machine moved forward, picking up speed down the runway.

About halfway down the chute, the plane’s nose rose up as it lifted gently off the pavement. I watched as the wheels rolled up into the belly of the colossal machine.

As it continued to rise into the air, I stood transfixed as it grew smaller and smaller, until it was just a dot disappearing into a cloud.

With that the long day was over and we were ready for school. 

I slept well that night, dreaming of flying through the heavens.

■ Larry Penkava, is a writer for Randolph Hub. Contact: 336-302-2189, larrypenkava@gmail.com.