Goodbye to Robert Hall’s

The shocking thing about being a boomer is looking back on our behavior way back when. Like, when we thought we knew what was cool. And who knows? Maybe it was. But can you believe it today? Bob Kaz can’t. Not now. But when he was a kid, the most important thing in the world was being cool … which meant getting his Mom to say Goodbye to Robert Hall’s.

It was the late 50′s and that dressy time of the year rolled around again: Easter. In the old neighborhood, Easter was the time to get your fancy new outfit for the year. Because you’d outgrown everything in the last year. So the new outfit was complete from head to toe.

But this year was to be different! I was going to trick Mom out of the standard sport coat and slacks and brown shoes and move into the world of Rock and Roll. I had to be slick and convince her that purple, black, and pink were what the President was wearing this year.

But I would first have to get her to skip our annual trip to “Robert Hall’s” clothing store. This was a store with racks and racks of boring pants, shirts ,and jackets. The most daring color there was white! Pants looked like your grandfather’s with the belts just below your chin like Fred Mertz wore on “I Love Lucy.” Jackets had tips of fake handkerchiefs slipped into the breast pocket.

I had to convince Mom that the only outfit for me could be found at a store downtown named “Parks.” Parks had a display window that must have had electrical cords powering every shirt. My buddies and I would leave the Warner Theater that was right next door and just gape at the styles of clothing that literally sparkled as you looked at them. There were shirts that seemed to have silver threads running through them and pants that were so pegged you could barely get your foot into them.

So on the days my mother wanted to shop, I delayed my yearly trek for the Easter outfit with excuses ranging from illness to wanting to study more. Then, just a week or so before Easter, I mentioned to her that Parks was the place where everyone went and that I heard even the Mayor was seen shopping there. I told her I would be laughed at if I had an outfit from Robert Hall’s. She relented and said, We have to get you an outfit for church so let’s go.

I got her into the store and sort of blocked her view as we walked through the sparkling and flashing array of cool stuff in the windows. She must have been oblivious to her surroundings, or just felt we were out of time with the holy day approaching quickly.

My first pick was a conservative pair of purple slacks with a slim touch of pink in the seams on the side. The shirt was pink with a collar that will look fantastic lifted up touching my hair. And then my Ricky Ricardo Black and Pink jacket that will drive my buddies nuts and envious. I couldn’t believe she let me pick these out. She must have been ill or just figured I was a lost cause. Next I had to get my pants fitted. This was very integral to the look. I had to convince the tailor to peg these so my foot barely got through the leg. He stood there with a cigar and ash dangling from his mouth and a yellow tape measure around his neck and a piece of soap for marking in his hand. He said, I don’t care kid, but your Mom will kill you when you put them on.

The big day came and all my stuff was on the bed ready to be assembled into one beautiful wardrobe. My family and friends will talk about this for years… or at least until next Easter. First the shirt. I will bet I am the first male in my family to wear a pink shirt. It looks great! Next the slacks. I sit on the bed and slip them on with care. My foot slithers in like a snake and barely makes it out the opening. I love em! My belt is a thin silver strip of plastic that looks futuristic and it is fastened on the side. Now for the feet. My pink socks with a slight purple design feel like silk when I pull them on. Now the blue suede loafers. I slip them on and I am breathless. If my ancestors are looking down, I am sure they are proud. My Dad yells, What the hell you doin in there?!

Before I open the door I must do my hair. I put two handfuls of Vitalis on my head to get a shine and to give a base of chemicals so I can make a DA (duck’s ass) on the back of my head. Making a perfect DA alone is like disarming a rogue World War II bomb. You gotta be careful. I do the one side then the next with a precision only seen by a surgeon. To be deemed perfect it must look like two Vinyl 45RPM records stuck on the side of your head. Then with the rat tail end of your comb you run the plastic tip down the middle of the back of your head. I look in the mirror and a tear starts to appear in my eye.

I hear my father yell, Get your ass out here or we’ll all be late for church, God dammit! I open the door and my mother screams, Oh my God! and my Father says Get that shit off your head and where did you get that outfit!?! My Grandmother almost faints and says They will throw us out of the church if you are seen with us. She screams Why couldn’t he be more like cousin Teddy? I found out later he died at birth.

But it is too late to change. I win! They do request that I don’t walk with them to church. My Grandmother recommends that I should go to another church.

Filed Under: Baby Boomer Culture • Baby Boomers • Featured Story

Tags: Bob Kaz • Robert Hall’s