Now surely you didn’t think we’d revisit Merry Go Round without also stopping by Chess King, did you? Fair is fair…
Check out that last ad—illustrated in 1986 by legendary fantasy artist Boris Vallejo. Even barbarians, it seems, shopped at Chess King back in the day.
When you ask folks who grew up in the 1980s about “Merry Go Round“, they’ll undoubtedly remember the store… and its trendy fashions that they’d probably just as soon forget. Do the brands “I.O.U.” and “Skidz” ring any bells?
For those who grew up in Laurel at that time, our Merry Go Round was located on the lower level of Laurel Centre Mall, not far from the Hecht’s entrance. And coincidentally, just a few short yards away was another merry go round of sorts—the Carousel shops, which were literally located on a revolving platform in the center of the mall. These seven small boutiques were surrounded by a moat, no less—into which everyone in Laurel likely threw at least one penny at some point. (Perhaps wishing for a new red leather jacket from Merry Go Round, or something).
It wasn’t obvious, but the Carousel did actually rotate. According to this press photo which ran in the October 28, 1979 issue of the Baltimore Sun, the platform did a complete turn every 50 minutes. It did, at least, until maintenance costs proved to be too prohibitive, and then it just sat still. For that reason, many people probably never realized that it ever rotated at all.
And as for Merry Go Round, the store, I hope you didn’t think I’d miss this opportunity to showcase some of its many wares. Enjoy. Or cringe, more likely.
Yesterday, I read a particularly distressing story on LaurelLeader.com. One of my all-time favorite places—and one of the few remaining Laurel stores that had been a constant while I was growing up—and then some—is apparently closing after 35 years.
In fact, the Laurel Art Center at 322 Main Street has already closed its doors, (temporarily, let’s hope) as the Emery family decides its fate. But let’s face it—it doesn’t sound good.
Admittedly, before last year, it had been awhile since I’d visited the Laurel Art Center. But like an old friend many miles away, it felt good just to know it was still there. And it was an old friend, indeed. An old friend that remained the same throughout the passing decades.
It was an extraordinarily special place for me, particularly as a youngster. I was one of those kids you hear about who literally started drawing from the moment he first held a pencil. I drew everything, and I drew it on everything—as this early depiction of an epic football battle between the Philadelphia Eagles and the Pittsburgh Steelers can attest. I drew it on the back of one of my mom’s paper placemats sometime around 1979. You’ll notice that I hadn’t quite grasped the rules of football at the time; although I still can see the benefit to marking the field with “60” and “70”-yard lines and so forth. But I digress.
As a young artist, I was fascinated with the tools of the trade: the pencils and felt pens, and the marks they made on paper. And the paper itself, for that matter. Fortunately, I was blessed with parents who recognized and nurtured my talent at a very early age. My mom, on routine trips to the likes of Woolworth’s or Zayre, would invariably come home with a small gift for me—a sketch pad, and/or a little set of watercolor paints. I’ll never forget the thrill of trying out new art supplies, regardless of what they were or where they came from.
As I progressed, I learned that there was an entire world of real art supplies out there—far beyond my standard number 2 pencils, generic felt tip pens, and little sets of watercolors. There were actual drawing pencils, with a range of textures and contrast; there were papers that were actually designed to accommodate watercolors—unlike my mom’s standard white typewriter paper (or her paper placemats). This world first presented itself to me in the form of the Laurel Art Center.
To me, the phrase, “like a kid in a candy store” has never been so apt as when I visited this place. And it has always felt that way, whether I was 10 years old, twenty-something, or today, as I’m closing in on 40. From the weathered, wooden outdoor facade to the cavernous aisles filled with every art supply imaginable, the Laurel Art Center never changed. The smell of graphite pencils, wooden frames, and the occasional hint of turpentine is just as apparent today as it was when I first experienced it.
Photo: laurel.patch.com
I came across this terrific set on Flickr from member clgmaclean, which captures the essence of the Laurel Art Center and its myriad inventory. Somewhere on those countless cardboard displays and particleboard shelves, I’m sure my own discreet doodles still exist—as I tested many a pen before buying it.
While the store itself hasn’t changed all these years, its purpose has evolved for me during those three distinct periods I alluded to: childhood, college, and adulthood.
As a kid, it was simply an artistic wonderland; a place to experiment and learn with tools that just weren’t available at the local five and dime.
When I enrolled at the Corcoran College of Art + Design in the Fall of 1993, it was the first and only place I went to purchase my required supplies—an epic supply list that I’m told was photocopied and saved by staffmembers at the store for future use!
Long after graduating and becoming a graphic designer, it was this project—Lost Laurel—that brought me back to the store once again. Not for art supplies, ironically, but for the fantastic prints by local artists Marian Quinn and Cathy Emery—prints that document countless Laurel buildings and landmarks that are long gone. It was the first resource I thought of when I started Lost Laurel. And funny enough, I remembered seeing some of them in the store all those years ago… At the time, however, it didn’t dawn on me just how prescient they were. Why would anyone want a print of Keller’s News Stand, or Petrucci’s Dinner Theater, or Pal Jack’s Pizza, I remember thinking—they’re right here next to the Art Center. Yeah, 30 years ago they were. Now they’re gone, like so many other places that were uniquely Laurel.
Keller's/Knapp's, watercolor print by Cathy Emery
I’d made several trips to the the Laurel Art Center in recent months, picking up a number of these historical prints for my collection, which I’ve been sharing primarily on the Lost Laurel Facebook page.
Each time I browsed the selections, one print in particular caught my eye. And now, even while recognizing how prescient it was, I couldn’t bring myself to buy it. It was a Marian Quinn pen and ink drawing of the Laurel Art Center itself. While I wanted it—and certainly wished I’d just gone ahead and grabbed it while I had the chance—I felt as though I might be jinxing my old friend. I was there to get artwork of places past, not places that I held hope would continue to persevere.
According to the article in the Leader, the Laurel Art Center’s closing may not be permanent. At least, not yet. There seems to be a chance that the store will open on a temporary schedule (I suggest checking their Facebook pages often for updates—here and here) until the ownership issue can be resolved. And to that point, I want to wish Mr. Leo Emery—the wonderful man who founded the store all those years ago, and who has remained such an integral part of it ever since—and his entire family the best of luck. That goes for everyone who has ever worked at the store, as well. I also want to give them all a belated, but heartfelt thank you for all that they’ve done—for as long as I can remember. If there hadn’t been a Laurel Art Center, who knows what I might be doing today. I can’t imagine that I would’ve maintained such a strong interest in art had it not been for them. I would’ve eventually gotten bored, just doodling on my mom’s paper placemats, and moved on to something else. Instead, I found inspiration in that store like nowhere else.
I’ll end this post with another look at the past, as well as a glimpse at the near future. It can be seen in this photo—one of my favorites from John Floyd II:
The very first Main Street Festival, 1981. (Photo: John Floyd II)
Each of the establishments from the old Marian Quinn prints I mentioned can be seen in this view from 1981, looking west on Main Street from its intersection with Washington Blvd. There’s Pal Jack’s Pizza on the left, just beside Petrucci’s. Further up, just past the Equitable Trust bank is the Laurel Art Center itself. Across the street, you can see the familiar Pepsi sign hanging from what was, at that time, Keller’s News Stand. This was no ordinary day, of course; people didn’t just walk in the middle of Main Street routinely in 1981. This was the Main Street Festival—the very first Main Street Festival, in fact. I find it entirely fitting that, in the middle of this vibrant, promising snapshot of a community embracing itself—there is the Laurel Art Center.
It’s also fitting that the city of Laurel recently designated a downtown arts district in this very section of town, with an eye to attracting new arts-based businesses and legitimizing the growing arts focus of the area. How terribly ironic it would be if the Laurel Art Center, after 35 years, is no longer around to be at the center of this great new community movement as well.
Awhile back, I found this wonderful little Dart Drug truck on eBay—remarkably, still in its original packaging. For me, it was a perfect reminder of one of my all-time favorite stores while growing up in Laurel. In fact, I grew up just around the corner from it at Steward Manor; and made at least as many candy and magazine trips there as I did to the 7-Eleven directly across Laurel-Bowie Rd.
At that time, (this being the early-to-mid-1980s) Dart Drug was situated beside Safeway—before the latter relocated to the new Laurel Lakes shopping center in 1985. And when I was a kid, I could simply cross Lafayette Avenue and the railroad tracks and already be in the parking lot. So, yes—in the context of Dart Drug and Safeway, I literally grew up on the other side of the tracks. But I digress.
As cool as my new (old) toy was, it just didn’t feel complete without a Safeway item to balance it out. For me, the two will always be inseparable. To this day, I can’t think of Safeway without thinking of Dart Drug, and vice versa. I had considered a Safeway railroad car, to represent the fact that “my” Safeway will always be associated with the aforementioned railroad tracks.
But, lo and behold, I eventually tracked down a matching vintage toy truck. They seem to like each other. Once again, all is right with the world.
The local weather forecasters had been predicting some snow for the DC metropolitan area this Presidents Day weekend, but alas, there was little if any precipitation. Instead, it’s bright and dry; and the air is clean, crisp, and refreshing—not unlike a Dart Drug ginger ale.
I’m not sure if it’s exactly “caramel colored” outside as well, but I digress.
What time is it? It’s Evans time! Check out this sweet Seiko watch display ad from a 1986 Laurel Leader supplement.
Evans Distributors & Jewelers was the largest and most visible of the department stores in the northern section of Laurel Lakes Center, situated on the corner of Baltimore Ave. and Mulberry Street. Only Bradlees (the original centerpiece of Laurel Lakes) was bigger and more versatile—a precursor to today’s Target. Evans, on the other hand, was a slightly different animal; a catalog showroom in the same mold as Best and W. Bell & Co.
The basic concept behind such catalog showrooms was to feature the majority of products (primarily housewares and electronics) as out-of-the-box display models. Customers could browse aisles of these display models; but rather than place a product in your cart and proceed to the checkout line, you’d have to submit an order at the counter. If the product was in stock, it would be retrieved and delivered to a customer service area for subsequent purchase. Sound like a pain? It usually was. And that’s only the half of it—because more often than not, they didn’t have your item in stock. “Rain checks” were quite popular amongst shoppers at Evans, Best, and W. Bell & Co.
Archaic shopping concept aside, Evans was a fairly popular store in its time. And thankfully, not everything in their inventory was catalog-based. I still have a camera bag and tripod that I purchased in the early 90s, which I bought off the shelf. Others have mentioned still having items such as travel alarm clocks from the same era. And like Best and W. Bell & Co., Evans published an annual catalog that was always a treat to peruse, especially at Christmas time.
But like its competitors, the 1990s weren’t kind. And not just to Evans—to the entire quadrant of Laurel Lakes Center that abutted it, including T.J. Maxx, Kids ‘R’ Us, the Laurel Lakes Cinema 12, and about a dozen smaller stores in between. After multiple changes of ownership, miscommunication with tenants, and other snafus, this entire section of the shopping center was summarily bulldozed by 2002—to make way for the Lowe’s Home Improvement Center that currently occupies the space.
In the end, Evans—a company that prided itself on affordable fine jewelry and timepieces (as evidenced by the aforementioned sweet watch display ad above) had been operating on borrowed time, itself.
This 2000 Laurel Leader article reveals exactly how little the tenants of Laurel Lakes actually knew about its future.
Photo: historicaerials.com
It’s funny how these things come together sometimes. No matter how hard you try to remember everything, or how much research you do, you’re bound to completely forget a few places. And sometimes, the biggest, most unlikely-to-ever-be-forgotten stores are the ones most easily overlooked. Such was the case with PACE Membership Warehouse.
At least I wasn’t the only one. None of the 700+ folks on our Facebook page had mentioned it thus far, either.
So last night, while glancing at my WordPress dashboard, I noticed something new in the search engine terms module. Typically, the phrases I’ll see are things like “laurel movie theater”, “irish pub laurel maryland”, and “laurel mall closing”. These are terms that someone has entered into a search engine (Google, etc.), which subsequently led them to this blog.
But last night’s search engine terms—three separate tries—were more specific:
a warehouse off route 197 in laurel, md that sold food out of a warehouse in the late 80s and early 90s not shoppers
name of old store in laurel, md that sold food in late 80s like a warehouse not shoppers
list of food warehouses in laurel, md in late 80s and early 90s not shoppers
As you can tell, they were pretty adamant that it wasn’t Shoppers Food Warehouse. It took a moment to register what this place could possibly be, but then it hit me. PACE.
It had to be PACE Membership Warehouse, the innovative wholesale giant that opened in Laurel in 1985. At the time, it was a whole new concept: a massive, spartan warehouse filled with bulk buys for membership-based customers. According to reports, there were only 8 other companies like it in the entire country, and none in the Baltimore-Washington region.
According to Wikipedia, PACE was founded in 1983, and was part of the Kmart Corporation. Not coincidentally, two other warehouse clubs also began operations in 1983: Costco and Sam’s Club. Right behind them, in 1984, came BJ’s Wholesale Club (which was started by another familiar Laurel retailer, by the way—Zayre.) All of these followed Price Club—recognized as the very first warehouse club—in 1976.
By the early 1990s, the competition was pulling away, however; and PACE, unfortunately, just wasn’t able to keep pace. In 1993, Walmart acquired it from Kmart and converted many (but not all) locations into Sam’s Clubs.
After posting just the logo alone on Lost Laurel’s Facebook page, dozens of people began to reply—including many who worked at PACE. Surprisingly, they apparently hadn’t thought about it in years, either.
Below are a number of press photos from 1986 and 1992, respectfully, which are being sold by the Historic Images photo archive on eBay. And following those are a couple of particularly interesting articles (as well as display ads) from local papers leading up to the opening of the Laurel store. With today’s prevalence of big box stores and its effects on small town commerce, these articles are somewhat prophetic. It’s also ironic that PACE itself would be absorbed by Walmart, with whom so many countless small businesses simply haven’t been able to compete.
I’m still hoping to track down some photos of the actual Laurel store; but in the meantime, hopefully whoever was searching for PACE returns to see what what their initial search prompted… and what we’ve uncovered so far.
The end of Laurel's original IHOP, 1995. (Photo courtesy of Eric Ziegler)
As a kid, I walked from Steward Manor to the mall at least once a week. Under the railroad overpass on Bowie Road, up past the Fair Lanes bowling alley on Marshall Avenue, and on beyond the Ponderosa/Sizzler Steakhouse before crossing Route 1—cutting through the Bob’s Big Boy parking lot along the way.
Then, upon entering the Laurel Shopping Center grounds, I’d find myself beside the tall, imposing A-frame structure with the blue roof—the International House of Pancakes.
A 1970s postcard featuring an out of state, but remarkably similar setting.
Laurel’s IHOP was originally located in the iconic building for which it was designed, and situated just beside what was originally the Hecht Co. building (then Woolco, and then Jamesway…and soon to be L.A. Fitness). It occupied the space now being used by the extended strip mall parallel to Washington Blvd. In fact, when you go to that Starbucks and await your beverage, you’ll be standing approximately where you once would’ve been eating pancakes. The entire left side of this shopping center (including Starbucks and Petco) sits on what was originally the IHOP grounds; as throughout the 1980s, only Radio Shack, Long & Foster Real Estate, and the Grecian Spa were housed there. Amazingly, Radio Shack is still in that same location on the corner beside Marshall Ave.
(historicaerials.com)
In the summer of 1993, an unusual move took place. IHOP decided to leave its building, and move into a slightly larger one just across Washington Blvd.—in the building that had recently been vacated by Bob’s Big Boy—where it continues to operate today.
But while highly successful, today’s modern IHOP doesn’t have nearly the same nostalgic aura that it had in the old building. Case in point, here are a few vintage pieces that represent that era quite well—including an actual menu from 1974 that will totally have you craving pancakes.
Before the building was demolished in 1995, it briefly saw new life as a Christmas decoration shop called “Santa’s Cottage”. The most notable change was the roof, which went from IHOP blue to Santa red. Still, passersby continued to mistake the building for what it originally was. According to a November 21, 1993 Washington Post article written by popular Laurel Leader columnist, Tony Glaros, “the old place still attracts creatures of habit in search of oatmeal, not ornaments.” Santa’s Cottage manager Carter Hoyle added, “It took about a month and a half to get the pancake smell out of here.”
For many Laurelites, myself included, there will always remain a connection between IHOP and Bob’s Big Boy. I can’t think of one without remembering the other. I’m sure there are other former Bob’s Big Boy locations that were eventually taken over by IHOP, but I don’t believe it was a universal change. So it was rather ironic—yet quite fitting—to come across an eBay listing for these vintage glasses, being sold as a pair. I doubt the auction will last until Christmas, but if it does, perhaps I’ll ask Santa for them—thus completing the trifecta.
With Valentine’s Day nearly upon us, shouldn’t you be thinking of where you might’ve gone to buy something nice for your sweetheart… if it were still the 1980s?
Ironically, one of the first places I probably would’ve gone to pick up my copy of today’s Laurel Leader was High’s. Along with a delicious ICEE, of course. Or Butter Brickle ice cream. Or both.
Apparently, the paper is no longer sold at the likes of 7-Eleven, CVS, Safeway, or Giant. Fortunately, though, complimentary copies are available at the Laurel Municipal Center and other areas around town. If the free copies run out, however, I’m told that you can still buy them—at the Quick Stop… otherwise known as the former High’s on Main Street. Hmm… I wonder if they sell ICEEs?
Lost Laurel 