Remembering Marshall Field's

Catalogs from 1975 and 1973

2010-05-01T15:41:00.000-07:00

Treasures uncovered from the 1975 Marshall Field's Christmas catalog:

First, the ooh and aahs. In honor of the upcoming Bicentennial, a small assortment of honest-to-goodness antiques. A $5,000 pewter plate made by William Will, $5,000. A pewter porringer by Frederick Bassett, one of the few extent pieces, $4,500. In the upper left, an autographed signed letter from John Jay, $12,500. Belowit, an autographed letter from George Washington, $8,500. Those are 1975 prices, folks.

Also, the magnificent furs. The furry white one is dyed blue fox from Norway with feather-cut fur, styled to be worn at three different lengths. The dark one is a mink coat by Pierre Cardin.

Guaranteed never to be seen in fashion again: Coordinating his-n-hers denim leisure outfits:

The more independent man might choose to go his own way in a Mighty-Mac (yes, that's the brand for the blue number below) leisure suit.

Never again will cotton corduroy fancy painter paints be so fashionable:Before engineered basketball shoes and high-fashion sneakers took over, everyone wore Treton tennis shoes. I remember agonizing over which color to get:

Ah, yes, Frango mints, a tradition that really had only just begun to be pushed by Marshall Field's. A one-pound box is just $4.25. And there are just four flavors: lemon, mint, rum, and coffee. And of course, a Wedgwood Jasperware tray with the Field's clock for $15.
Nothing says 1970s Christmas like these: a patchwork tree skirt, gingham quilted stocking, corn husk mice, pine cone wreath, and handwoven Christmas tree wall hanging from Colombia.

Toys had their own catalog, so here are few choice selections from the 1973 version:

I so much remember this red-and-white logo, covering Christmas boxes that got used and over and over because they were so thick and sturdy.

The first page has dolls, including -- woo-hoo -- Madam Alexander dolls. The set of 5 were the Little Women plus Marmee. My sister had all four. I never understood why Marmee was the same size as her children. We spent hours playing with these. Then the basement flooded several feet and Beth, alas, suffered from an incurable case of mold and bad hairstyling for the rest of her existence.

My sister also had the Scarlett O'Hara doll. With a green belt. When I saw the movie and noticed her belt was really red, I was incensed, because clearly the movie got it wrong. Little did I know that this doll cost $19.95. That's $95.27 in 2009. At least we loved her to death. As far as I know, her underwear, tights, and shoes came off immediately upon arrival home and were never seen again.

Ah, some groovy 70s craft kits. Here they are, all in one place. Let's play I Spy. Can you spy: the candy-making kit? the macrame kit? the batik kit? the incense making it? the 3-D string art kit? the woodburning kit? What the happy puppy sniffing a flower is doing in the upper left corner I have no idea.

I can't believe it -- it's an actual Big Wheel, complete with "rakish low-slung suspension" for stability. A bargain at $12.95 (or maybe not, that about $50 today). But worth every penny.

I throw this one in because every girl I knew had one of these rustic cedar log cabins. They always got smelly and fully of decaying trees after a year.

I would have much preferred those adjustable Satellite jump shoes for realistic moon-walking.Another one just thrown in because I recognize it -- in this case, because I had it: Paint 'N Peel. Absolutely no point except to draw a picture in paint, let it dry and then peel it off. I think I tried eating one once.

You don't realize how far electronics have come until you see the electronic toys of 1973. A four-transistor Marfield (ha! Marshall Field's made!) walkie-talkie with a one-block range and groovy brick-size stylin. But really ... a crystal radio kit? A telegraph signal system? You'd think these toys were made by old men who grew up in the 20s. Oh, wait ...

This stuff reminds me of a time I went into a museum and saw a Winnebago RV toy I'd owned as child. It was just an incredible thrill. There's the nostalgia of course. But it's something more. That odd realization when you notice that something that was incredibly familiar and a part of your everyday life had disappeared. And been gone for years. So long that it had become unfamiliar, but familar at the same time.

Looking at this catalogis is like suddenly encountering your past self, someone you totally know and recognize but don't recognize as yourself anymore. Funny how history works that way.

Pacesetter Shop

2010-05-01T13:54:00.000-07:00

One of the most charming things about old department stores is how they worked to make you feel you were entering a small boutique shop every time you entered a new department. Thus, for example, if you're not comfortable in the haute couture 28 Shop and are too old for the children's Assembly Room, well, maybe the Young Chicago Shop is just for you:

(From the store's 1946 guideboook). Clearly, the goal was to alleviate the feeling that you're in a large impersonal mega-store and make you feel more like you're in a small specialized boutique store. Sometimes they even had their own front door:

(Also from the 1946 book.) Notice how the architecture -- the curved bay window with small panes of glass, the pedimented doorway, even the glimpse inside at what looks like a living room with upholstered chair, couch and lamp -- all makes it look as if you're entering the home of a classy, elegant but not ostentatious friend who will guide you through your own classy, elegant, but not ostentatious wedding.

The "shop" architecture could even be a way to signal whether the fashion within suits your style or not, as in this 1970s ad which practically screams "trendy, fashion-forward, not suitable for women who fear pants, enormous fur hats, and maxi dress. Coats with huge fur collars within!"

What's most intriguing is that when department stores moved into suburban malls, they tried to keep the "shops-within-a-store" concept, but seem to have become overwhelmed in a "shops-within-a-mall" environment. Soon the small, specialized boutiques that surrounded the big department stores became more the destination than the big stores.

A Walk Through Marshall Field's in 1946

2010-04-09T11:38:00.000-07:00

Thumbing through a copy of the store's 1946 guidebook (tellingly, a guidebook for both the store and the city -- presumably as a useful service for tourists):

it occurred to me that scanning this booklet is almost like taking a walk through the store, so I thought I'd post a few. These aren't all the photos in the guidebook, but a scattered assortment for those who care to step back in time. You start on the main aisle:

If that image doesn't make you think of a cathedral I don't know what will -- the classical columns drawing your eye upward, the long collonade stretching into the distance, drawing your eye ever towards the ... door to the street.

The Jewelry and silver departments, on the main floor, Wabash side. Field's had jewelry, watch-repairing and silver workrooms on the 10th floor as well:

The Georgian Room also featured a "superb selection of antique silver, with the hallmarks of the best old English silversmiths." The Georgian room, part of the antiques gallery, was on the 9th floor:

The Gift Court on the 2nd floor, suited for harried shoppers who want to dash in and out with a suitable gift for a loved one. (Not pictured: The Gift Box in the corner where you could have a gift wrapped or just purchase what's needed to do the wrapping yourself):

The fourth floor was devoted to children's wear and toys ... the latter being much preferred by young shoppers. This section, the School Girl Shop, was decorated with "pale wood, lots of light, chic red leather benches and amusing displays." If that doesn't keep a school girl from wanting to head over to the next section, "home of one of the largest collection of unusual toys to be found anywhere in the world," well, I don't know what will:

The guidebook didn't have a photograph of the Playroom, but here's one from just about the same time. The store itself described this room as a place "where children may be 'parked' while mothers do their shopping."

On the beloved fourth floor, the Magic Marionette Theater. Good for luring in exhausted mothers with bored children on a Saturday and giving them something to do. And, hey, if they see a toy or two they can't live without while there, well who's to complain?

The Wedding Bureau on the second floor. Descendant of the first wedding registry in the country, established in 1924 (or so the story goes, does anyone know differently?):

The Young Chicago Shop on the 6th floor. For sub-debs and school girls.

Oddly enough , there was no Old Chicago Shop. But there was the Misses' Dress Shop, the Women's Dress Shop, the After-Five Shop, the Sunningdale Shop ("specializes in mangificant casual clothes"), and of course the 28 Shop.

Here's one of the 28 fitting rooms there, decorated in 14 two-of-a-kind styles -- lace, bamboo, pink-and-beige, etc. -- so if the dressing room with your favorite decor is occupied, there's an identical one you can use. Also, 28 Shop special china. Ah, the luxury ...

(That's another shot not from the guidebook, but very close in age).

The Narcisscus Room restaurant, with windows facing the lake, which had fashion shows during the week, except in summer.

At this point there were five restaurants on the 7th floor (not including the pantry and the herb farm shop): The Walnut Room, the Narcissus Room, the English Room (overlooking the North Well), the self-service Crystal Buffet, and the smaller party/club meeting Wedgwood Room.

The Trend House on the 8th floor. A complete model home (really complete -- I mean, with roof and front lawn). Actually, in 1946 there were 2 -- a modern home and a period home, each redecorated regularly

The telephone switchboard in the 12th floor. State 1000 was the number -- surely a phone number coup if ever there was one. The main store had 62 outgoing lines, 155 incoming lines and often handled an average of 70 calls per minute with the record number of calls per day more than 35,000. Not including interhouse house to the suburban branches. Man, this store loved numbers.

Also on the 12th floor, the personal shopping service for people who write or call in their orders. "No matter how far from Chicago you may be, Marshall Field & Company is no farther away than your mailbox or telephone."

The daylight candy kitchen, with white-gowned workers making candy. Sidenote: I find it interesting that although the store acquired Frangos with the acquisition of Frederick & Nelson in 1929, the Frango mint candies so famous today were not really advertised or promoted until the 1960s. I haven't found Frangos in catalogs or guidebooks or advertisements. There's one mention of a maple Frango on a menu from about 1950, but that is undoubtedly the frozen dessert:

The Store for men, across Washington St. at the southwest corner of Washington and Wabash:

They advertised the Store for Men as "A Separate Store in a Separate Building." It was just the first 6 floors (and 3 basements) of the 20-story building. They said John Shedd got the idea when he saw ladies having to endure an elevator ride in the main building with men smoking cigarettes. More likely, it was a way to get men out shopping without the, er, embarrassment of being one of the few men in a store teeming with ladies shopping.

The first floor of the Store for Men was, well, eerily similar to the main floor of the main store:

One thing this guidebook has no photographs of: the Budget Floor. Although by this point it had become the largest individual selling floor in the world. At least, according to Field's. Which was, I'm sure, fully unbiased in that.

In search of your Marshall Field's photographs!

2010-02-12T13:43:00.000-08:00

Ever take your kids to see the Marshall Field's Christmas windows? Or eat in the Walnut Room or get a makeover at the cosmetics counter?

I'm in search of personal photographs of Marshall Field's Department Store, especially the State St store, for an upcoming illustrated history of the fabled department store. The book, titled Remembering Marshall Field's, is slated for publication in April 2011.

All photographs are welcome, but especially these:

-- Photographs that show any departments of the store, even just in the background (for example, customers trying on a wedding gown in the bridal salon, school clothes shopping, trying on hats with friends, getting make-up tips, etc.)

-- Photographs of kids visiting Field's Santa

-- Photographs taken at a special event at the store, such as a booksigning, the Christmas decorations, the lightwell flag, a visit from a celebrity promoting some new merchandise, etc.)

-- Photographs showing behind-the-scenes (for example, employees eating in the employees lunchroom, stocking inventory, working the telephones, making candy)

-- Photographs from any decade are welcome. I am especially in need of photographs from the 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s.

Photographs must be those that I can obtain permission to republish (such as something you took yourself) and I'll need to either be able to borrow it for a short while to scan it or obtain a high-resolution scan of it. Photographs must be received by me no later than August 31, 2010.

Yes, there are official photographs taken by store photographers and many of those will be included in the book. But it is the snapshots from the people who knew and loved the store that I'm interested in, the personal ones that could make this book something to treasure.

This is a wonderful way to preserve and honor this grande dame of department stores. Take a minute to look in your photograph albums and consider sharing your share memories with others.

Marshall Field's and the Field Museum

2010-01-17T14:43:00.000-08:00

Yes, their names are similar: Marshall Field, Field Museum.

But beyond just the assumption that he gave a lot of many, how many modern Chicagoans actually know the link between Marshall Field and the museum that bears his name?

The founding of a museum to house biological and anthropolical specimens predates any involvement of Field. The museum came about because people felt there was a need to save and preserve collections assembled for Chicago's World's Columbian Exposition in 1893. Those collections -- which formed the core of what later grew into a much larger collection -- were at the center of a new museum incorporated on Sept. 16, 1893 as the Columbian Museum of Chicago. And it was housed, logically enough, in Jackson Park, where the Columbian Exposition had been.

The building chosen was also the logical one -- the building erected as the Palace of Fine Arts. While it had a glistening plaster facade like many other buildings put up for the Fair, its costly art contents demanded greater protection and strength. So it was the only Fair structure built of brick, given it a permanence that virtually all the other fair buildings lacked.

Not until 1905 did the museum's name change to honor Chicago's retail giant. As the museum's first large-scale benefactor, Marshall Field won the honor of seeing the museum changed to the Field Museum of Natural History.

The museum stayed in Jackson Park until 1921, when it moved to its present site on what is now known as the Museum Campus.

When the Field Museum left Jackson Park, the former Palace of Fine Arts was eventually transformed into the home of the Museum of Science and Industry.

Clockmender

2010-01-11T10:00:00.001-08:00

Norman Rockwell immortalized the store’s clocks in a typically whimsical illustration for the cover of the wildly popular Saturday Evening Post on Nov. 3, 1945:

The clock depicted is the Randolph St. clock, as evidenced by the Oriental Theater sign partially visible in the background.

Like other Rockwell paintings, this image presents a sentimental snapshot of American life – the working-man clockmender whose simple pocket watch establishes the time for a grand clock whose immense size literally dwarfs him (in reality, the clocks were set inside the store).

By using Marshall Field’s clock, Rockwell helped cement the store’s status as an iconic symbol of both grandeur and typical American-ness. Rockwell donated the painting to the store in 1948.

Macy’s later donated it to the Chicago History Museum, sealing its status, in turn, as an icon of Chicago history.

The cathedral of all stores

2010-01-07T12:37:00.001-08:00

There has been a lot written about how department stores often emulated church architecture. At least as early as 1922, the store's "new" buildings were referred to as the "Cathedral of all Stores."

But what does this really mean? Just that they were really big and impressive?

Well, yes, that's part of it. Department stores certainly wanted to claim for themselves many of the characteristics that made churches so dominant in society.

Consider, for example, the nave - the long wide aisle that served as a cathedral's principal architectural detail.

Interior of the Basilica di San Lorenzo di Firenze , Florence , looking towards the high altar. Photo taken by Necrothesp , 20 May 2004.

The nave serves a number of functions in a cathedral, but for our purposes, a key feature is to emphasize the building's length. The impressive pillars add to the illusion, drawng your eye down the long expanse.

Now compare the photo above to this: Hmm? Look slightly familiar. Granted, here we're not being urged to look towards anything -- certainly nothing as spectacular as a sanctuary. At the end of this particular aisle is the door exiting onto Washington St.

But whether we realize it or not, as shoppers the architecture is doing to us the same thing it does for a cathdral -- emphasizing for us a sweeping, dramatic expanse of space. Giving us a sense of awe and wonder. Creating an emotional reaction that identifies this space as a special space set aside from the tawdry, everyday world.

OK, perhaps I'm getting carried away. We could go on to some silly lengths (ever notice that the main entrance to Field's was placed on the west -- just as it is in cathedrals? Well, ok, so that's where State St. just happens to be, but stil ...)

Still, it's worth noting the common desire among cathedral and department store architects to design spaces with a feeling of awe, splendor, and ritual.

And perhaps therefore not a coincidence at all that just as cathedrals had spurred on and used some of the most impressive technological and artistic achievements of their day, department stores pushed for and made extensive use of amazing new technological achivements innovations.

All you have to do is look at the large expanses of plate glass in a department store display windows dating from the early 20 century to see that.

Marshall Field's delivery wagons

2009-12-16T08:38:00.000-08:00

One of the most common memories of Marshall Field's must be its delivery trucks. Those gorgeous green trucks coming up the street with fabulous goodies inside. By the end, these were used for furniture and not a whole lot else. But for decades the store would delivery anything from a new refrigerator to a spool of thread.

What is probably barely remembered today is that during much of the heyday of the store's delivery service, horse-drawn wagons were used:

In those days, it was not unknown for retailers to whip horses and flog them, sometimes even to death. According to Give the Lady What She Wants, Field had different ideas. He made cruelty to horses grounds for dismissal. On the very hottest days, horses had to rest (young boys strapped packages to their backs instead). Horses only worked half a day, even if that meant a driver had to leave his horse at a neighborhood stable and go back for another horse so he could finish his deliveries.

I would love to locate a photograph of signs in the Marshall Field's barns that read “Don’t whip the horses!”

Advertising the toy dept

2009-12-10T14:04:00.000-08:00

One of the quintessential Marshall Field's moves, at least in the days during and soon after its founder's leadership, was an insistence on service.

It's fascinating to see how this ideal extended even to advertising. Like in this postcard:

Notice that it does not extol how extensive their toy selection it (it was -- at one time among the largest in the U.S., if not the largest) or how diverse (anything from a single balloon to a custom-made bicycle or how rare (one-of-a-kind handpainted toy soldiers anyone?)

No, it's an educational blurb about the value of toys in a child's growth and development. About how important they are in developing breadth and activity. A little lesson in how much Field's cares about that.

I'm not saying there's anything false here. On the contrary. One of the special things about the store was its consistent striving to show that it went above and beyond to provide the ultimate in service. Yes, sure, they're out to make a profit, but they almost make it sound like that's not really their main goal.

Note that even the central image is not really about the toys (that's reserved for the surprisingly detailed border illustrations), but rather of the children playing. And of course developing as they do so.

That is just SO Marshall Field's.

The Crystal Palace

2009-11-18T05:49:00.000-08:00

Just came upon this priceless ad from, I believe, 1974:

Anyone remember getting ice cream at the Crystal Palace? It wasn't on the 7th floor with the other restaurants, but on 3.

Come to think of it, I remember getting ice cream at the Oakbrook Center Field's store, in a place they called "Strawberry Fields," which had an all-strawberry theme: strawberry ice cream, strawberry-decorated cookies, chocolate-covered strawberries. It didn't last long, but I was enchanted with the idea, and the strawberry-printed tiles on the walls.

Oooo boy my mother is going to be maaaaad

2009-11-03T18:15:00.000-08:00

When I started researching Field's history, I figured, hey, I probably have a ton of photos of Field's. Definitely of the Walnut Room Christmas tree.

My family -- well, my three adorable nieces, my darling mother, my lovely sister and I -- have been going to the Walnut Room for at least 10 years now. Like everyone else, we wait around forever (well, unless my mother does the saintly thing and goes early to get us one of those buzzer things). One year we arrived around lunch hour and waited so long the girls resorted to stuffing themselves on potato chips and it was probably closer to 4 when we finally sat down for "lunch." The next year, we arrived so early we got seated at something like 10 a.m. These things just cannot be coordinated.

Nope. Two hours of digging through boxes of photos turned up exactly one out of focus photograph that doesn't include me:
My mother (who will hate me because she hates seeing photos of herself but I think she looks great) and my darling niece Annie.

Blurry? Check. No visuals of the background? Check. So tightly cropped it could be in any restaurant and we can only tell it's the Walnut Room because of the date marked stamped on it? Check check check.

Why is it that I take tons of photos of things I never want to look at in the future -- acquaintances from high school who happened to be at the graduation ceremony, buildings at college that I can no longer even recall what went on in them, every unflattering Halloween costume ever worn -- but the things that now really form cherished memories some elude photographic immortalization?

But these great traditions that we look forward to every year? Not nearly enough photos.

So, goal for the future: Take more photos. Of the things that really matter.

Top 10 Favorite Marshall Field's Traditions

2009-11-02T19:29:00.000-08:00

One of the delights of exploring department store history is learning which traditions are most cherished by customers and employees.

In talking with people and reviewing books and articles about Marshall Field’s, certain favorite traditions emerge as the standouts. In my unscientific assembling, the top 10 favorite traditions are:

10. Uncle Mistletoe. What's not to love about a Christmas character who looked like he stepped right out of a Dickens novel, encourages kids to join the Kindness Club, and has eyebrows that resemble small boats?

9. Marshall Field's Special Sandwich. A huge hunk of iceberg lettuce, some chicken and neon Thousand Island Dressing. A Classic, even if hasn't appeared on a menu for years.

8. The 3rd floor book department. This is the dept. that

started book signings and hosted everyone from Shirley Temple to Admiral Byrd to Amelia Earhart. For a while, the biggest book dept. in the world (or so Field's always said)

7. The 8th floor Trend House. A ground-breaking idea for its time -- an entire house set up on the 8th floor, changed about twice a year and featuring fully decorated rooms. Originally the furnishings were affordable and the looks something ordinary people might want, but gradually it drifted into the outrageously trendy and outrageously pricey.

6. The 4th floor children's dept, especially the toy and game dept. At one time, the largest toy dept in the world (again, in Field's own unbiased words) and full of exclusives, like Field's own Madame Alexander dolls and Marshall Field's green Tonka trunks.

5. The Great Clock. According to legend, established so people would have a convenient place to meet. The original clock at State and Washington was replaced when the new store building went up. And a mate was installed at State and Wabash (in the new building that actually opened prior to the one at State and Washington). Designed by Daniel Burnham's firm, which also did the building, and slated for memoralization in a Saturday Evening Post cover by Norman Rockwell. For some reason, the clock at Washington St. became more famous than the one at Wabash -- and both more famous than virtually any other clock in Chicago.

4. The Tiffany mosaic glass dome. Still the largest individual piece of irridescent glass mosaic ever installed. When it opened, as part of the new building's opening in 1907, president John G. Shedd worried that the floor under the dome might not hold up under the weight of the throngs who came to see the dome.

3. Frango mints. Chocolate. Mint. Delicious. Not a Field's original (acquired with the acquisition of the legendary Frederick and Nelso Dept. store in 1929) but Field's made it its own, producing it for years on the flagship store's 13th floor. Field's perpetuated the wonderful legend that they were originally called Franco's but were renamed when the Spanish dictator rose to power. Sadly, patent application papers reveal that the name Frango was registered in 1918, long before anyone heard of Generalissimo Franco.

2. The Great Tree in the Walnut Room. Originally a 45-foot real tree hauled up the light well and monitored by firefighters, but for most of its history an artificial -- but splendid tree rising several stories high. Eating lunch or having tea under the Great Tree became such a tradition for Chicago families that many children's memories include the hours and hours -- and hours -- of waiting until a table openedup.

1. The Christmas holiday windows. Marshall Field's was not the first department store to put up Christmas window displays, but like so many other things, the Field's windows came to feel like the best in Chicago.

Ok, maybe nothing earth-shattering here, but think about this:

On this list, 5 of the 10 are not directly related to buying. The Christmas windows, the Tiffany dome, the Great Clocks -- not things you came to purchase, but rather the delightful, lavish displays that drew you to the store and made experiencing it a one-of-a-kind, special indulgence. They marked a visit to the store as something opulent and luxurious. They were part of the “feel” of the store, the emotional whallop a visit to it delivered.

Remembering State St

2009-11-01T10:52:00.000-08:00

Today, with even the great grande dame Carson Pirie Scott gone, it's hard to remember that State St was once packed with retail boutiques and department stores.

Consider the block directly south of Fields:

That's Field's on the far left, the Columbus Memorial Bldg (some retailers but also offices), then Chas A Stevens, then Mandel Bros, then Carson's on the far right at the corner of State and Madison. And that's just one side of one block!

What's even more amazing is that this density of retail didn't come about as a result of mere competition. Field himself (as in, Marshall #1) purchased chunks of real estate and sold it to other retailers, hoping to draw more retail business to the area around his store. The thinking, not unlike that for a mall today, was that the more shops were concentrated in one area, the more likely people will come to that area to go shopping.

I think the mobility that cars gave us has made us forget just how much of a virtue this was in the days when trains, trolleys, streetcars, and horse-drawn buggies were the major modes of transportation.

And helps us understand why the arrival of the automobiles (making it so much easier for people to go wherever the wanted to shop) and the continuing increase in population in Chicago (making it more and more congested on State St) ultimately spelled trouble for State St.

But nonetheless, for a brief while, luring other department stores and boutiques to the area around his store was a brilliant strategy for Field.

Please, give me more to read!

2009-10-31T08:15:00.000-07:00

I sometimes get asked to recommend books for folks who want to learn more about Marshall Field's. Or just want to oogle photos of Frango mints.

Wait no more. Here's my list of favorite books about Field's. Some of these are scholarly; some are popular. Some are all about Field’s; others just include a few photos or mentions. Taken together, they present a rich history of this beloved grande dame of retail.

They're in alphabetical order, as any good history prof would recommend:

DePaola, Tomi. With Warmest Regards: A Celebration of Our Customers’ Recipes and Traditions: Dayton’s, Marshall Field’s, Hudson’s. Contemporary Books: 1995.

Ditchett, Samuel Herbert. Marshall Field and Company: The Life Story of a Great Concern. Dry Good Economist: 1922.

Greene, Joan. A Chicago Tradition: Marshall Field’s Food and Fashion, Chicago Cultural Center Foundation. Pomegranate, 2005.

Hendrickson, Robert. Grand Emporiums: The Illustrated History of America’s Great Department Stores. Stein and Day: 1979.

Howard, Vicki. Brides, Inc.: American Weddings and the Business of Tradition. University of Pennsylvania Press: 2008.

Kimbrough, Emily. Through Charley’s Door. Harper Collins, 1952.

Leach, William R. Land of Desire: Merchants, Power, and the Rise of a New American Culture. Vintage: 1994.

Ledermann, Robert P. Christmas on State Street: 1940’s and Beyond. Arcadia Publishing, 2002.

Lewis, Russell. Historic Photos of Chicago. Turner Publishing: 2006.

Madsen, Axel. The Marshall Fields: The Evolution of an American Business Dynasty. Wiley, 2002.

Marshall Field’s, Marshall Field’s Frango Chocolate Cookbook. Contemporary Books, 1988.

McNulty, Elizabeth. Chicago Then and Now. Thunder Bay Press, 2000.

Pridmore, Jay. Marshall Field’s (A Building Book). Pomegranate, 2002.

Twyman, Robert W. The History of Marshall Field and Company, 1852-1906. Beaufort Books,1976; ACLS Humanities E-Book, 2008.

Siegelman, Stephen. The Marshall Field’s Cookbook: Classic Recipes and Fresh Takes from the Field’s Culinary Council. Book Kitchen, 2006.

Someone’s in the Kitchen with Dayton’s, Marshall Field’s, Hudson’s. Contemporary Books: 1992.

Vikochil, Larry A. Chicago at the Turn of the Century in Photographs: 122 Historic Views from the Collections of the Chicago Historical Society. Dover: 1984.

Wendell, Ann. Frederick & Nelson. Arcadia Publishing, 2008.

Wendt, Lloyd. Give the Lady What She Wants: The Story of Marshall Field and Co. 1951, 1965, 1997.

Werner, Jane. Uncle Mistletoe (Little Golden Book). Simon and Schuster: 1953.

Whitacker, Jan. Service and Style: How the American Department Store Fashioned the Middle Class. St. Martin’s Press: 2006.

If you just want a great read, pick up Give the Lady What She Wants or Through Charley's Door. They're both delicious reads.