As a kid, I have to say that Bill’s Carpet Warehouse struck me as the most boring store in Laurel. Thankfully, my parents didn’t have to buy carpets all that frequently.
These days, the old building at 14815 Baltimore Ave—directly across from Laurel Shopping Center—is a Vitamin Shoppe… which, I suppose is a bit more exciting.
On the lower level of Laurel Centre Mall, just beside Montgomery Wards, was a sporting goods store. It wasn’t a particularly big store, mind you, but Herman’s World of Sporting Goods carried an impressive array of products. Whatever the latest and greatest sneakers were, you could find them at Herman’s. NFL Starter jackets? Check. Team hats? Check. Bowling balls? Check.
Herman’s was a national chain that did well for years, primarily in the shopping and strip mall market. And throughout the 1980s, the Laurel Herman’s store likely cut into the profits of Bob Windsor’s All-Pro Sports—the only other sporting goods retailer in town.
By the early 1990s, however, Herman’s itself was being devoured by its larger competitors: Dick’s Sporting Goods and The Sports Authority. Warehouse-sized stores were becoming the latest trend—in just about every retail arena imaginable. In 1993, Herman’s entered bankruptcy.
There are a lot of memorable facets to Herman’s, but what stands out to me most are the shopping bags. The bag itself spoke to the excitement of organized sports—its brand incorporating a range of vibrant colors, along with snow and sun motifs to suggest the outdoor elements. Seeing one of those bags meant that something good was inside—be it a new basketball, some Ocean Pacific gear, or maybe even a pair of new Air Jordans. This is something that’s been lost on the warehouse-sized stores. Do you find anything even remotely exciting about a Sports Authority/Dick’s Sporting Goods plain white plastic bag stamped with their sterile logos today? Neither do I.
So, the Woolco experiment didn’t go quite as planned in the old Hecht Co. building. And just a little over a year later, in April 1983, another store tried its luck. So did hundreds of eager Laurel residents, who came out on opening day to try to catch ping-pong balls—being tossed from the roof by skydivers—in order to win free door prizes.
Jamesway, founded in 1961 in Jamestown, NY (hence its name), rapidly expanded over the next two decades—eventually peaking at 138 stores in the Northeast and mid-Atlantic regions. Woolco was one of several defunct stores that Jamesway subsequently acquired.
It was actually very much like Woolco, in that it was a large discount department store that seemingly carried everything under the sun; but it felt newer. And to those of us in Laurel, it was new—I’d certainly never even heard of Jamesway before those ads started coming out. And the Jamesway brand felt fresher, too, with its bright blue, orange, and yellow.
Photo: cooldude166861 (Flickr)
I’m still not sure why they went with those mint green shopping carts, but they too felt new.
Photo: snappyjack1 (Flickr)
Being the discount department store that it was, (competing with the likes of Zayre/Ames and Bradlees at the time) Jamesway certainly didn’t appeal to fashion-and brand-conscious kids of the 1980s. Nonetheless, it was a great resource for all other things; you just didn’t want your parents coming home with any kind of Jamesway clothing for you. Or worse, shoes. I don’t remember exactly what a pair of Jamesway sneakers looked like, but I assume they did, in fact, exist. And it’s a safe assumption that they fell under the dreaded “maypops” category. Which is a shame, of course, because the clothes probably weren’t necessarily bad. The shirts just didn’t have little alligators sewn on them.
Photo: BACKYard Woods Explorer (Flickr)
Jamesway definitely fared better than Woolco did, and the Laurel store proved to be a popular and successful location that remained through the decade. But the 1990s weren’t nearly as kind, and by 1991—despite the 138 stores and sales of $855 million, according to Wikipedia—changes were afoot. A refinancing saw 11 stores close that year; and by July 1993, Jamesway had filed for Chapter 11 protection. Additional stores continued to close throughout 1994, as the company spiraled downhill. Finally, between October and December 1995, Jamesway closed all of its remaining stores and liquidated its inventory… even down to all those unused price stickers.
It being the end of February, I trust everyone has finally taken down their Woolworth/Woolco Christmas ornaments, right?
There was a time—March, 1982, to be exact—when it seemed like Woolworth and Woolco were poised to dominate the Laurel retail market, having stores practically book-ending the parking lot of Laurel Shopping Center. Woolco, founded 20 years earlier by the F.W. Woolworth Company, was a full-line discount department store, which offered considerably more than its smaller, more traditional five-and-dime counterpart. Laurel’s Woolco opened in the former Hecht Co. building on March 31, 1982, taking over the empty retail space after Hecht’s moved inside the new Laurel Centre Mall the previous year.
While Woolco was considerably bigger and more modern, its marketing team was careful to point out that Woolworth remained its parent company. Together, Woolworth/Woolco offered an extensive line of pretty much everything—from the aforementioned Christmas decorations to automotive supplies.
And speaking of autos, they also created their own brand of Matchbox/Hot Wheels-type toy cars: “Peelers”.
But alas, the Woolworth/Woolco dynasty wasn’t to be. In fact, the Woolco signage we see being installed in that Laurel Leader article above had barely settled—literally—when F.W. Woolworth announced that it would be closing all 336 stores in the United States.
That announcement came in September of the same year—not even a full six months after Laurel’s store saw its grand opening.
What’s remarkable, obviously, is that the store even opened up in the first place. In fiscal 1981, the parent company (Woolworth) earned $82 million in sales. Without Woolco, it was claimed, its earnings would have been $147 million. “We believe that the figures indicate that Woolworth will be a more profitable company once freed from the burden of Woolco’s disappointing performance,” said Chairman Edward F. Gibbons. Yet, only six months earlier, they were opening a brand new store in Laurel—to optimistic city planners and retail chiefs who clearly expected the store to last a lot longer than six months. In hindsight, they never should’ve opened it on March 31st. They should’ve waited and opened it on April Fools Day.
Some thirty years later, today’s situation with the old Laurel Mall and its countless financial/developmental mishaps shouldn’t seem so surprising. And this time it can’t be blamed on Woolco.
Like the proverbial “2-for-1” special, today’s focus is on a restaurant within a department store—both of which, of course, are now long gone.
I remember Edgar’s—the restaurant within Hecht’s at Laurel Centre Mall—more for its distinctive, art deco logo that I’d often pass while walking the upper level parquet floors en route to the mall proper. Truth be told, I don’t actually recall ever having eaten there; but I remember that logo—particularly Edgar’s beady little eyes and pencil mustache. In fact, to this day, whenever I hear the expression “beady eyes”, I immediately think of Edgar.
While I’m pretty sure I could’ve drawn it from memory, I found a couple of Washington Post ads from 1985 and 86, respectively, which feature both the logo and the beady-eyed Edgar himself.
The prices, I have to say, look great—even for the mid-1980s. And from what I’ve heard, the food was actually quite good.
While they’re not Edgar-specific, I’ve noticed a few Hecht’s Restaurants glasses on eBay, promoting Lipton Iced Tea. Coincidentally, that Lipton Iced Tea logo guy also had quite a mustache, didn’t he? Fortunately, his eyes weren’t so beady, though.
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.
One of the last great Laurel pizza joints closed in December 2010, when Pal Jack’s finally ceased operations. Long known by its easy-to-remember telephone number, (301) PAL-JACK, it was founded by Jack Delaney—original owner of that other great Laurel pizza joint, Delaney’s Irish Pub.
While ownership changed hands over the years, the name (and phone number) remained. The most noticeable difference in this 2010 carryout menu is probably the addition of “curry wraps”—a decidedly eastern fare that wasn’t offered during Pal Jack’s heyday.
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.
I’ve been a vegetarian since roughly 2004, but if you were to offer me a Church’s Fried Chicken two-piece spicy box with biscuit, I would happily eat it. In fact, if Church’s were still at Town Center, I’d drive there for it right now myself—especially if you told me it was this 1986 Manute Bol and Spud Webb promo box.
I once met the late Manute Bol in Laurel, actually—shooting pool at the Fair Lanes bowling alley in the early 1990s, as he often did.
I also spotted this authentic Church’s Fried Chicken cap on eBay, but I’m guessing the decades-old smell of chicken grease undoubtedly ingrained in its fabric might hinder my more pleasant memories of this fine establishment… so I’ll have to pass on that.
Lost Laurel 