F. W. Woolworth and the Five and Dime: From Nickels to Dimes to Dollars

By George Nelson

"F.W. Woolworth and the Five and Dime: From Nickels to Dimes to Dollars" tells the story of a great American institution, the Five and Ten Cent Store.

Utilizing his private collection of Woolworth publications [some dating from 1917], researching numerous books, magazines, newspaper articles, and websites, plus calling on his own personal recollections, Mr. Nelson has written an engaging story of not only the first Five & Ten, F.W. Woolworth, but other chains in the industry who contributed so much to the American consumer.

These stores include S.S. Kresge, J.G. McCrory, W.T. Grant, G.C. Murphy, S.H. Kress, J.J. Newberry, Ben Franklin, and others. He provides the narrative of their founding, their growth, their impact on society and unfortunately their demise as the retail landscape changed. Now they are only memories. If you worked or shopped in one of these chains, this book will put a smile on your face.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667838939

George Nelson

Author: George Nelson II

Book preview

cover.jpg

George W. Nelson; 1920-2006

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my father, George W. Nelson. Not only was he a great father but also a great Woolworth man. Starting in the stockroom as a learner in a small store in Chicago, he rose through the ranks to become President of the Woolworth division of the F.W. Woolworth Company. Along this journey, he made many friends and was respected for not only his hard work but also the ethical manner in which he did business. In 1982, after 43 years the company decided it was time for him to take early retirement. Despite this action he remained a loyal Woolworth man. When called on, he gave his best advice to his friends still with the company. He never said a bad word about the corporation and was deeply disappointed in 1997 when the end came to the F.W. Woolworth division. After a long, happy retirement in Pinehurst, North Carolina, he passed away in 2006. [His wife, my mother Mary, passes away 10 years later on the exact same date.] I regret that I did not conceive of this book while he was still alive. His memory and insight would have made it a much better book.

© 2022 George Nelson All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. ISBN 978-1-66783-892-2 eBook 978-1-66783-893-9

Contents

Part 1

Chapter 1

YOUTH AND TRAINING

Chapter 2

THE FIRST STORES

Chapter 3

NEW PLANS

Chapter 4

THE 1890S

Chapter 5

EARLY 20TH CENTURY

Chapter 6

THE GREAT MERGER

Chapter 7

WOOLWORTH INTERNATIONAL, PART 1

Chapter 8:

THE WOOLWORTH BUILDING

Chapter 9

THE LAST YEARS OF FRANK WOOLWORTH

Chapter 10

THE 1920s

Chapter 11

THE LUNCH COUNTERS

Chapter 12:

THE THIRTIES

Chapter 13

WOOLWORTH INTERNATIONAL, PART 2

Chapter 14:

THE 1940s

Chapter 15:

DOWNTOWN—ITS RISE AND FALL

Chapter 16

THE 1950s

Chapter 17:

THE 1960s

Chapter 18

THE 1970s

Chapter 19

The 1980s

Chapter 20

STORE MANAGERS

Chapter 21

THE 1990s—THE END

Chapter 22

WOOLWORTH MEMORIES

Part 2

Chapter 1:

S.S. KRESGE

Chapter 2:

J.G. McCRORY, PART 1

Chapter 3

S.H. KRESS

Chapter 4

T.G.&Y.

Chapter 5

G.C. Murphy

Chapter 6

NEISNER’S

Chapter 7

J. G. MCCRORY, THE END

Chapter 8

W.T. GRANT

Chapter 9

BEN FRANKLIN

Chapter 10

ROSE’S

Chapter 11

THE OTHERS

Chapter 12

WHAT EXACTLY IS A CHAIN STORE?

Chapter 13

CLOSURE

Foreword

That sure is a big hole, Dad!

I was sitting on my father’s shoulders looking through a window cut through a plywood fence built to protect the basement of what would become the new F.W. Woolworth store #112. It has to be, son, my father replied. For all the business we are going to do in the new store, we need a basement big enough to hold a lot of inventory.

My father, George W. Nelson, was manager of the current store #112 located on Commercial Avenue on the southeast side of Chicago. Old #112 (as it came to be called) sat in the middle of the block between 91st and 92nd streets, with an S.S. Kresge store right beside it. The year was 1951, and as I was only five years old, I don’t remember much of old #112 except that the U-shaped lunch counter was positioned at the rear of the store, which struck even a five-year-old as weird. The new #112, which was to be located down the block at the corner of 91st and Commercial across from Goldblatt’s department store, would be more than twice the size of the old store, with a lunch counter running along the entire south wall. It would share the location with a Kenny shoe store, not a competitor. Based on the size of the hole in the ground, I was sure the new #112 would be the best Woolworth store ever!

When opened in 1952, the new #112 was a marvel in the Five & Ten world (although since 1935 Woolworth was technically no longer a Dime Store but more properly a Variety Store). Unlike the old #112, which had a cash register at each counter, the new store had four checkouts at the front of the store. Only the candy, jewelry and food departments had separate cash registers. The store not only had a huge lunch counter but also a large kitchen, which allowed the preparation of turkey dinners, spaghetti and Salisbury steak in addition to the standard fare of hamburgers, hot dogs, club sandwiches and sundaes. In addition to the large basement, #112 was two stories tall. The second floor was rented out to doctors, dentists and other professionals. At opening the store was staffed by 84 employees, including three assistant managers, five office girls to count the money and pay the bills, four stockmen and 15 waitresses for the lunch counter as well as three cooks. These employees enjoyed separate break rooms for men and women as well as an employee cafeteria serviced by a dumbwaiter. To a now-six-year-old boy, the most marvelous luxury in the store was the candy department. All types of chocolates, jellies and penny candies were neatly arranged in bulk display cases. As a high-potential theft item, all candy in the stockroom was locked in the candy room. Another dumbwaiter was used to transport the treats from the candy room to the display cases on the main floor.

I was also amazed by the pet department, which took up the entire back wall. Parakeets, canaries, goldfish, tropicals as well as turtles and tadpoles competed for the customer’s attention. As a boy, I was not as impressed with the other departments such as cosmetics, jewelry, notions, housewares or ladies clothing. I have never forgotten, however, the name of the woman who staffed ladies undergarments, Myrtle. I thought it extremely funny that Myrtle rhymed with girdle. Six-year-old boys have a strange sense of humor.

It was great fun to have your father manage a Woolworth’s store. Besides being able to take advantage of the 10 per cent employee discount, after the store was closed I was allowed to run up and down the aisles. If you took off your shoes and got a good running start, you could slide in your socks 20 feet or more on the polished marble floors. For special occasions, I could ride the dumb waiter from the candy room to the candy department. What fun!

Another tradition was for my mother, Mary, and me to meet my father on Friday nights at a tavern across the street from #112, Lenny Carmeci’s. Lenny later went into the music business and discovered a group called the Champs, who had a number-one hit with Tequila. At Carmeci’s we would join my father and the Assistant Managers as they relaxed over a few cocktails (or highballs, as they were called in the 1950s) before going out to dinner. My father would give me nickels to play the jukebox. The Yellow Rose of Texas and The Tennessee Waltz were my favorites. Several times an evening he had me take over a draft beer to a white-haired man with a thick beard. At first I thought he might be Santa Claus, but I later found out he was the king of the Gypsies who also resided on the southeast side. These Friday night beers were my father’s way of saying thanks to the king for keeping his subjects from plying their trade at store #112.

Store #112’s expansion was not an isolated incident. Variety stores were being expanded or new stores built all over the country. By 1954 there were over 2,300 Woolworth’s in North America, employing over 93,000 men and women. Moreover, it was not the only variety store enjoying growth. S.S. Kresge, S.H. Kress, W.T. Grant, J.J. Newberry, J.G. McCrory and others were also at the height of their success. Today these stores are only memories. Most people under the age of 40 are unaware of their names, much less their accomplishments. Beginning in 1879, for 100 years the variety stores dominated retail trade in the United States. The contributions they made to the American way of life were enormous. From understanding the cost savings of volume purchases, to private labeling, to building national distribution networks, to shaping the downtown landscape of thousands of communities or even the introduction of Christmas tree ornaments to the United States, they had a major impact on life in America.

This book will examine a number of these variety stores from their beginnings, through their growth successes, until their demise, but it will concentrate on the first and the best of them, F.W. Woolworth. It is my hope that this examination will provide a better understanding of their contribution to American society.

My interest in variety stores stems from their importance in my childhood. As I grew up, besides my father, two other Nelsons were in Woolworth management. My great uncle, also a George W. Nelson, was the first to work for the company. He started in the 1920s as a learner and retired 45 years later as a Regional Merchandise Manager in the Chicago office. The stores and districts he managed are lost from my memory, but I do recall that as Merchandise Manager he was in charge of the notions departments. These included sewing, hair goods, gloves and handkerchiefs. I was told by his peers that he was one of smartest men ever to work for Woolworth’s. He had the ability to visit a store, walk the aisles and stockroom and figure out the dollar amount of that store’s inventory within a thousand dollars. As a young man he suffered from rheumatoid arthritis, which limited his mobility. My father always said that without this disability, he would have been promoted much further up the personnel chart.

My father started at Woolworth’s as a learner in 1939. He was a 1938 graduate of Streator, Illinois High School, as was his Uncle George. His first job was selling Chevrolets for the Virgil Z. Hill Motor Car Company; but seeing his uncle’s success at Woolworth’s, he applied there also. His first assignment as a learner was at store #1746 on 18th Street in Chicago. This was a small store even by 1939 standards. It was so small the El tracks ran right over it. When the trains came by, the entire store would shake. Away from home for the first time, he stayed at the YMCA. After promotion to Assistant Manager, he served at other Chicago area stores, until he was transferred to Rock Island, Illinois. It was in Rock Island that he met his future wife and my mother, Mary Smith.

The manager of the Rock Island store allowed my father to go home to Streator to celebrate Christmas 1942, but he had to be back to work by 9:00 a.m. on the 26th to begin preparing for inventory. Up early, as my father was racing to get back to Rock Island, it began to snow. Skidding, he lost control and the car flipped over. My father ended up in the back seat with a broken back. After months in traction, he was able to come back to work. Because of his injury, the draft board declared him 4F and unfit for induction into the armed forces. My father had mixed emotions about being unable to serve. While willing to defend our country, he did not meet the same fate of many his high school classmates, who gave their life to protect our liberties. The accident did give his Woolworth’s career a boost. With many F.W. managers called into the service, my father’s training was fast-forwarded. In January 1944, he was promoted to Manager of the Woolworth store in downtown Monmouth, Illinois.

My parents married in June of 1944, and in 1946 I was born. I don’t remember anything of Monmouth because in January 1947 my father was transferred to store #1040 on 43rd Street on the Southside of Chicago. Other than my father and his Assistant Manager, the employees and clientele were all black. Although #1040 was smaller in size than the Monmouth store, because its sales and profits were larger this move was considered a promotion. In 1949, he was transferred to old #112, which as you know became the new #112 in 1952.

My father’s promotions continued. In 1953, he became the District Manager for the Western Michigan territory, and in 1955 was transferred to the Englewood district in Chicago. In 1957, he was promoted into the Chicago district office as Merchandise Manager for health and beauty aids. As his Uncle George was also a Merchandise Manager in the Chicago office, he became Old George and my father was Young George. Promotions continued to come, first Regional Sales Manager, followed by Assistant Regional Vice President, a post he held both in Chicago and Atlanta. In January 1968, he took over as Regional Vice President of the Chicago office. In 1970, he was sent to New York as Vice President of Merchandising hard lines. Later promotions included Vice President of the International Division, Woolworth Division General Manager and finally in 1980, President of the Woolworth Division of the F.W. Woolworth Company. He retired in 1982 after serving Woolworth’s for 43 years, moving from the stock room of #1746 to the presidency of the division.

My father’s younger brother, Walt, joined Woolworth as a learner in 1946 after discharge from the Army. He served as an Assistant Manager in the Chicago area, becoming a Manager in 1950. The store and location are also lost to my memory. He did later manage stores in Wheaton and Elgin, Illinois. It was in Elgin that his Woolworth career came to an abrupt end. My Uncle Walt had an independent streak. He did not like to wear a tie even though the Woolworth Manager’s dress code called for a suit and tie. He attended a Woolworth Manager’s meeting tieless. The District Manager told him to put on a tie or leave the meeting. He promptly quit. He opened a Ben Franklin franchise in Marengo, Illinois, which was quite successful until he died in a tragic automobile accident in 1975.

The purpose of these short biographies is to indicate how immersed I was in the F.W. Woolworth Company while growing up. At every family gathering, my father, uncle and great uncle talked business. I knew what departments were doing well, like plants or records (I still remember Uncle George predicting that The Purple People Eater was going to be a hit 45 rpm record). I also knew which were doing poorly (ladies gloves, sometime in the early 1960s, went out of fashion).

My father’s friends were mostly fellow Woolworth people. When the fathers took their sons bowling or to a sporting event, the talk was mostly business. Listening to the Woolworth men I learned which managers were going to be promoted and which to be demoted or fired. I learned which executives were good to work for and those they hoped would be fired or transferred. I genuinely liked and respected these F.W. men. I was convinced Woolworth was the best company in the world. I bragged about the company to my friends; I don’t recall them bragging about where their fathers worked. In 1961, I proudly wrote on the Sunday school blackboard, I love Woolworth. When I shared this with my father, he explained Woolworth was having problems at the lunch counters in the southern stores. He thought someone might think my like was racially motivated, so he made me return to church and erase it.

I became the fourth Nelson in my family (and the third George W. Nelson) to work for the F.W. Woolworth Company. I can’t remember exactly when I first started, but by the time I was six I was in the stockroom of #112 applying price stickers. In 1964, I was formally employed as a stock boy at store #1552 in Downers Grove, Illinois, managed by John Petersen. This was an old downtown store with wooden floors (unlike the marble at #112) and fans in the ceiling. My jobs included emptying trash, sweeping the floors and helping Dave, a one-time Assistant Manager now doomed to be a permanent stock man, in the stockroom. The store was so old it did not have fire extinguishers, but rather there was a fire bucket in the under stock at the end of each counter. Each week I had to check each fire bucket and fill as necessary if the water in the bucket had evaporated. Store #1552 was also where I developed my first crush, Stephanie, who worked at the lunch counter. Dating was not uncommon in Woolworth stores. Manager Peterson ended up marrying Sis, our personnel lady.

I went off to Washington University in St. Louis, the first in my family to go to college. The next summer I was going to return to #1552, but my father’s good friend Bob Burke offered me a job as a floor walker at the store he managed, #1 at State and Washington in downtown Chicago. Store #1 was one of the largest and most profitable stores in the country. It had an L-shaped two-story sales floor and a direct entrance to the Red Line subway. In addition to a sub-basement, there were nine floors for stock. This store had an Associate Manager, two Assistant Managers in training as well as six floor walkers. These men were former Woolworth managers who had been unsuccessful as managers and been assigned permanent duty at store #1. My job was to assume their responsibilities as they took their summer vacations. While floor walkers were paid more than stock boys, I had to invest in three suits. The floor walker’s job was to provide customer assistance, make sure the sales staff stayed busy and, most importantly, be on the lookout for shoplifters. Store #1 took an aggressive approach to shoplifters. Two retired policewomen roamed the floors looking for theft, and they had a set of elaborate signals to notify the floor walkers when to make the pinch. Manager Burke believed in prosecution, so that word would get out that if you wanted to steal go to Kresge. Sometimes things didn’t go as planned. Once I detained a nun for stealing Tangee lipstick. It turned out her brother was a lieutenant in the Chicago Police Department. Not only did we not prosecute the nun, but Manager Burke made a substantial donation to both the Police Welfare League and the Catholic Church.

Store #1 was always packed with customers. There was so much traffic, professional product demonstrators negotiated with Manager Burke to obtain space throughout the store to ply their products. As rent, they paid the store 25 per cent of their sales. One was a magician. Between magic acts, he sold magic tricks and playing cards. Another worked by the State Street entrance selling a product his father invented called a Veg-o-matic. He sliced and diced and told jokes as he pitched his goods. His name was Ron Popeil, who later became a multi-millionaire selling his own inventions on television (think Dial-o-Matic, Bottle and Jug Cutter, Smokeless Ashtray, Record Vacuum and many more). I continued to work summers at store #1 for three years.

In college, I was a History major with a minor in Education. My goal was to be a teacher and, in fact, I taught one year while I completed my master’s degree. But I couldn’t get retailing out of my blood. I interviewed with Sears, Kresge, W.T. Grant and, of course, Woolworth. By this time my father was Regional V. P. in Chicago. While I had some concern about nepotism, I was a Woolworth man, so I started my career as an Assistant Manager at store #2450 in Downers Grove, Illinois, in September 1970. This store was newer and larger than the old #1552, and located in a strip shopping center rather than downtown. As one of the few Assistant Managers with a college degree and having been working for Woolworth’s on and off since I was six, I was on an accelerated program. I spent most of my training at store #2074 at Yorktown Mall in Lombard, Illinois. This was one of the new Dominant stores that were said to be the future of our company. In August 1972, I was promoted to Manager of store #2575 in Lake Forest, Illinois. Now married and raising a family, the promotions came quickly. In 1974, I was transferred to store #1291 in Toledo, Ohio, a Dominant store, as Associate Manager. In 1976, I became Manager of another Dominant, #1365 in Cincinnati, Ohio, followed in 1979 by a promotion to my father’s old Englewood District in Chicago.

Englewood included #2074 Yorktown, where I had trained as an Assistant; also store #1746, where my father had started his career. It was still small, much older and still shook when the trains rolled overhead. Finally, the district included #112, still a profitable store, but showing its age. It was down to 15 employees. The employee cafeteria had long since closed. As the stockroom was much too large to support the current sales volume, much of it was closed off. I showed the manager the dumbwaiter in the candy room (he hadn’t known it was there) and shared the many rides I had taken on it. We explored the second floor, which had not had any tenants for years. It was dirty and kind of spooky. One room still had an old dentist’s chair, but no drill. Each store no longer had its own office staff. All the bookkeeping functions were consolidated at a central Chicago location. One of the bookkeepers there had worked for my father at #1040 (she had also been my baby sitter) and another was from #112. My neighbor District Manager in the Mid-City District was John Petersen for whom I had worked so long ago. My wife, Diane, and I became good friends with John and his wife, Sis.

After two-and-a-half years in 1981 I was promoted to the position of Chicago Region Merchandise Manager. My departments included candy, pets, plants and picture frames. It was an exciting job, but the pressure was mounting. For several years, Woolworth had been closing more stores than it had been opening. The Woolco Division, for which I was also responsible, had not turned a profit since opening in 1962. Many of the Dominant stores, including #2074, were also barely profitable. The Monmouth store closed in 1981 (as over the years had its Main Street brethren). Its District Manager gave me the Diamond W that had graced the store’s red front, which I presented to my father. (It now has a proud place in my garage.) The stores making money were located in inner city neighborhoods like #112 and #1746.

The year 1982 was sad for both my family and Woolworth. First in February, my father retired at age 62, a victim of Woolco’s long failure to be profitable. He was quickly replaced by Bruce Allbright, an executive from Target. Then in September, Woolworth announced that all 336 Woolco stores would be closed by the end of the year. In addition, the regional office staff would be cut by 50 per cent. One day in mid-September, the Division General Manager came to the Chicago office to let us know who would keep a job and who would not. In total, 30,000 jobs were lost. I made the cut, but I did not think the future boded well for the Woolworth stores. In May 1983, I resigned from Woolworth’s and accepted a position as Seasonal Marketing Manager for the Confection Division of the Borden Company.

At Borden, I stayed actively involved with the variety stores and other chains, as they were all customers. I put together marketing programs for not only Woolworth’s but also Kresge, McCrory, Walgreen’s, T.G.&Y. and others. In 1985, I managed to lose the Woolworth’s valentine business. Borden had updated the foil on their valentine hearts and I was really proud of the new look. At the Woolworth presentation, I remarked that the foil on the old design looked like wallpaper from a whorehouse. This insulted the Woolworth Buyer who, unbeknown to me, had personally chosen the old foil. I lost $400,000 in heart business, but I did keep my job.

In the ensuing years, I followed the variety business from afar. W.T. Grant closed in 1976. In 1987, K Mart sold their remaining 76 Kresge stores to McCrory. T.G.&Y. was also sold to McCrory. I knew McCrory was not doing well because their seasonal candy business had fallen off substantially. While Woolworth had been accelerating its store closures since my departure in 1983, in 1993 they closed 400 stores in one fell swoop. When I saw the going out of business ad in the Chicago Tribune, I was shocked as well as saddened. Many of these stores had once been among the most profitable in the region. Then in July 1997, the F.W. Woolworth Company announced they would be closing the remaining 400-plus Woolworth stores and also changed the name of the company from F.W. Woolworth to Venator. Store #112 was in that last group. It is now a Latino $ Store. As a former Woolworth man, while I felt sorrow for this action, there was no surprise.

Until my retirement in 2013, I had remained in the candy business working for a several distribution companies. The saying you can only play so much golf is true. I began a joint study of the old F.W. Woolworth Company and the decline of downtown America. As I gathered more information, it became clear to me that I should also include a brief history of the other variety stores, copiers though they may be. I hope that my research, coupled with my innate understanding of the variety store business, will provide a better understanding of the accomplishments of these great companies.

Chapter 1

Youth And Training

Frank W. Woolworth; Courtesy of Alamy Stock Photography Company

Frank Winfield Woolworth was born April 13, 1852, at the farm of his paternal grandfather, Jasper, where his father John worked near the small village of Rodman in upstate New York. His parents were John Hubbell and Fanny (McBrier) Woolworth. Frank’s father was a hardworking but mostly unsuccessful farmer. In 1856, a second son was born, Charles Sumner Woolworth, named after Charles Sumner, the ardent abolitionist senator from Massachusetts. Together, Frank and Sum would make history in the world of retail.

In 1678, Richard Wooley had emigrated to New York from the town of Wooley in England. Richard soon changed his last name to Woolworth. Settling in Massachusetts, the Woolworths eventually moved on to cheaper, better land in New York. For the next 100 years, the Woolworths were subsistence farmers remaining in New York.

In 1859, when Frank was seven, his father purchased with a hefty mortgage a 108-acre farm outside the tiny village of Great Bend, New York. Despite the hard work of the entire Woolworth family, the farm was not profitable. The mortgage payments were too high, the land was rocky and only potatoes would grow on it. There was only enough grass to support eight milk cows. Luckily, they could harvest timber from the woods on the edge of the property. Frank and his brother Sum spent long hours doing the tedious chores of farm life: plowing, weeding, baling, milking, shoveling manure and so on. They hated the shovels, pitch forks, rakes and spades. Mostly, both Frank and Sum disliked the monotony of farming. After long hours in the field, their favorite pastime was playing store. They would set up some items on the dining table and sell them to pretend customers.

Frank and Sum attended a one-room schoolhouse in Great Bend. A lanky boy with bright blue eyes, Frank was always one of the most industrious and intelligent students. Frankie was a bright pupil, his teacher Emma Penniman once recalled. And he never gave me the least trouble. He was inclined to be sober minded, not at all prankish and always had his lessons. Unfortunately, due to chores on the farm, Frank and Sum could attend school only during the winter months. In spring and fall, they were needed at the farm. Frank and Sum shared the deep moral convictions of their parents: both were honest, hardworking Methodists who were ardently opposed to slavery. It is ironic to note that 40 years after his death, Woolworth stores would be the site of numerous civil rights sit-ins.

In the mid-18th century, it was customary to leave school when one reached age 16, if not earlier. Most farmers felt that when a boy was able to read, write and do his figures, it was time to leave school. Frank knew he was expected to work on his father’s farm and later take it over. This thought completely devastated him. He hated farm work, but had found another business he loved: RETAIL.

Several times a year, Frank and Sum were allowed to journey to the larger city of Watertown. Downtown Watertown had a bustling retail trade. In addition to the traditional stores, there were also finer dry goods emporiums. The clerks would ignore Frank and Sum in their muddy farmer boots, if not actually chase them from their stores. Nevertheless, Frank was fascinated by these stores. They were toasty warm even in the dead of a New York winter and well lit by gas lamps. The pleasant aroma of perfumed soap and candle wax wafted through the store. Long, wooden highly polished counters with glass fronts held every imaginable luxury to make one’s life easier. Frank envied not only the shop owners, but even the clerks who worked in these stores. Yet he never forgot their shabby treatment of him or the frustration that he could not even afford to buy even a modestly priced item from them. Frank became determined to have a store of his own. A store that would offer quality goods at affordable prices. A store where everyone would be treated with respect, and even the humblest customers would feel their nickels and dimes were as valuable as a five-dollar gold piece. As Frank left Miss Penniman’s school for the last time in spring 1868, he knew his future was in business, not farming. But how to make this happen?

In 1868, Frank was now a full-time farmer with his father. Not only did he dislike farm work but his health had also always been frail. Working long hours in often wet and cold conditions left him constantly ill. When health permitted, Frank began doing odd jobs for other farmers. He would tuck away the nickels and dimes he earned for the first step in his plan, to go to business school. Frank hoped with a business degree one of the dry goods stores would offer him a job as a trainee.

By 1871, Sum also left school and worked full-time at the farm. Sum’s presence gave Frank an opportunity. He approached his mother, Fanny, about going to business school. She supported her son’s cause and presented her thoughts to her husband, John. Frank’s health was not suited to the farm life. He was good at math and smarter than any other boy in Great Bend. Frank had potential she begged. She was even willing to give Frank the money she had been saving penny by penny since her wedding day for tuition. John finally relented. Frank could go to school, but he still had to complete his daily chores. Arrangements were made for a professor to tutor Frank at night, and in 1872, Frank finally enrolled in a two-month commercial business course in Watertown. Frank studied his material hard and by his 20th birthday he was awarded a certificate declaring him proficient in double-entry bookkeeping.

With his certificate in hand and dressed in his best clothing, Frank headed first to nearby Carthage; and with no luck in landing a job there, went on to Watertown. He visited every merchant in town, not only the dry goods stores but also the grocer’s, meat markets, the furniture maker’s shop and even a funeral parlor. None were impressed by the young man with the certificate.

Back in Great Bend, Frank met with the station master, who also ran a tiny grocery store behind the train depot. The station master, Dan McNeil, was willing to teach Frank the trade, but he could not afford to pay him. Desperate to get experience, Frank hired on part-time. He performed odd jobs, packed groceries and even sold train tickets. Frank enjoyed the work, but it was just not sensible for a 20-year-old to work for no pay. Pressured by his father, he returned to full-time farming.

While discouraged, Frank was not giving up on his dream of not only retail but also someday owning his own business.