Remembering Gump’s and Me

Working in the Jewelry Department at Gump's

I read recently that a grand institution, the department store Gump’s, is going out of business. For those below a certain age or living outside the San Francisco Bay Area, this probably is just a simple, obscure piece of news; meaningless in this world of instant photos, applications, fast paced technology and on-line shopping. But to many of us, this is a loss. A loss of a landmark, of the culture it symbolized. It is yet another goodbye to a touchstone of our past, of a place that defined lives and created memories. For me, it is all of the above and deeply personal. Another passage, another change, from what was once familiar and cherished. You might be thinking this to be obtuse and exaggerated, but trust me it is not.

As a child growing up in the city, I knew of Gump’s as that elegant store where the rich shopped. It was quintessential San Francisco finery—a store that offered the best artistry the city could offer. I would walk past its iconic store front at 250 Post Street, peer in the windows, and wonder what it would be like to actually go in and buy something. I wanted to be a San Franciscan that shopped at Gump’s.

Fast forward to my first days of college at the University of California at Berkeley. I was excited, scared, and hopeful of the possibilities. I saw my acceptance as an honor, as a pride-full accomplishment, as the beginning of a whole new, better life. The little girl from the concrete streets of the Richmond district was on her way.

Then, I got the letter (it was too expensive to call those days) from my father to come home. There was no money to pay the tuition. “It does not matter. You are a girl. Just get married”. Dad had waited until I got my classes, my roommate, my schedule to break the news. For the first time in her life, my Mother said nothing and was strangely absent. I was angry, embarrassed, scared, disappointed. I was 18 years old and, although school smart, emotionally unprepared to cope with such a debilitating set back. So, I simply returned to that barren flat in the fog shrouded avenues and sat in my room. There I stayed for weeks. And then, for reasons that remain a blur to me, I decided I needed to fix the situation.

Somehow, I knew I had to move forward. I deferred my acceptance to Cal.  I decided to look for a job to start saving money for the day I would return to college. And, I did not speak to my Father.

Back in the early 70s, one applied for entry level jobs by taking typing tests to become a secretary or applying for a sales position. Since the Holidays were approaching, I opted for the latter. I got myself dressed, put on my white gloves, and took the Muni bus downtown. I don’t remember now what other stores I went into but, suddenly, something compelled me to walk up to the Personnel Department on the second floor of Gump’s and asked for an application.

To my surprise, the lady behind the desk with the deep-set eyes, ruby red lipstick and what I interpreted as a modified flapper outfit looked up and said (in a growly voice), “Wait here”. Shortly, a very elegant lady dressed in black with Ferragamo flats and a grosgrain ribbon perfectly tied in her tightly pulled back ponytail walked in. I had no idea who she was and really do not recall the conversation. But within a few minutes she said, “I need a Christmas gift wrapper for the Holidays. In the Jewelry Department. Can you start on Monday?” I said yes. “You must wear only black or navy, long sleeves and never any pants.” I owned nothing of the sort but said, “That is fine”. She left and the “flapper” lady handed me the employment forms to fill out. I left with a copy of Richard Gump’s book, “Good Taste Costs No More”, which I was instructed to read.

That Christmas was magical for many reasons. I was in Union Square, alive with lights and elegantly attired shoppers. I would walk around and soak in the festivities of an old-fashioned San Francisco Christmas. There were mimes and musicians on the street corners, store windows alive with festive décor. I went to Podesto Baldocchi and bought my very first ornament from one of the many trees overflowing an abundant selection. I went to Britex on Geary to buy grosgrain ribbons (just like my boss) to wear with the black dress I borrowed from my Mother. Since I only had the one dress, I felt having different colored ribbons would make it less obvious that I was too poor to afford more outfits. I ate my lunch on Maiden Lane. I dashed to the St. Francis and had late afternoon tea at the Compass Rose, sitting there watching the grand dames of the city as the cable car clanged outside the sumptuously wood framed window. It was glorious to be in San Francisco during the Holidays.

A silk Gump's Jewelry box

The job itself was an entrée into a world I had never seen. I was fascinated, enthralled, and quite excited to transition into this finery. I was surrounded by beautiful Imari bowls, embossed stationery, delicate china and gleaming silverware, fabulous Baccarat crystal vases and goblets.  I worked in the actual Jewel room where freshwater pearls and jade glowed in display cases. These were the Gump’s trademark. And they were complimented by gold rings, bracelets, earrings, and cufflinks. As the official gift wrapper, I dutifully put each purchase into elegant silk boxes and wrapped them in gold paper with the Gump’s embossed sticker. (I was never allowed to use scotch tape).

College/Gump's Days

And my life just kept getting better. That elegant woman who interviewed me was indeed my boss and, as it turned out, was a graduate from Cal. She was so kind to me and I was later told she saw a little bit of herself in my youthful optimism and enthusiasm. So much so, she did the most generous thing. She offered me a full-time sales job after the Holidays. But as a girl on a mission, I told her I wanted to go back to college and not interested in a long term position. Undaunted, she told me I could work full time until I returned to Berkeley, and then, I could work 2-3 days a week, depending on my class schedule. I gratefully accepted.  She just gave me the world and the trajectory of my life changed forever.

I re-entered Cal in the Spring quarter of the following year and for the next 4 years, I alternated from the life of a college girl to that of a fine jewelry sales person at San Francisco’s finest store. I spent a tremendous amount of time commuting over the Bay Bridge from Berkeley to the Transbay terminal. A short walk up Sutter Street and I was transformed. It was quite an adventure. I would be identified at Cal as the girl who worked at Gump’s. (I swear that is the main reason I got into my sorority). And at work, I was the Berkeley girl who was working her way through college to a better life. I seemed to float through the duality. I came to see this as a San Francisco dream come true. That city that offered a future of possibilities to that little girl peering into the shop window had fulfilled its promise.

And there were definitely memorable highlights:

-        - Princess Alexandra, cousin to Queen Elizabeth, was coming to San Francisco and stopping by the store. I was taught to curtsey in the presence of royalty. And that is exactly what I did when she passed by and smiled.

-           - I recall Rock Hudson. This was before it was known he was gay. But at Gump’s, it was understood and accepted. No one thought twice. My colleagues were moving into the Castro and Noe Valley and buying run down Victorians to renovate. Such an exciting time to watch the birth of a community and a rightful recognition. San Francisco, in all its tradition, embraced and honored the change.

-          - I assisted such movie stars as Walter Matthau, Jack Lemon, and Lauren Bacall. From the local SF scene, Wilkes Bashford (the ultimate San Francisco clothier) would come by with the one and only Willie Brown after his fittings at the WB store around the corner on Sutter. It was the beginning of Willie’s signature dapper look and I watched his evolution. The Spreckels sisters of Pacific Heights (and the sugar heiresses) would also shop regularly. As the college student, my role was to hold Alma Junior’s teacup while she looked around and made her purchases for the opera opening, etc. Yes, that is what I did. I just stood there, holding hot tea in between sips and pearl necklaces.

-         - Probably the most amusing story is when Robert Wagner walked in with a beautiful Tina Sinatra. This was in between his ill-fated marriages to Natalie Wood. He came through the Jewelry Department and I went into shock at how handsome he was. So, I followed him throughout the store. It was not something I could control. I was in a trance—smitten and mesmerized. There I was, staring and walking alongside like a puppy dog. Until finally, in the silver department, as I stood between them glaring, he had enough. He called out to a saleslady to “remove” me. Yes, they had to escort me away. I laugh today at the image of me being dragged by two old ladies, as I stared back at Robert with this irritated, albeit handsome look on his face. Not one of my finest moments.

-       

In Dubrovnik

 - Between my Junior and Senior year, I announced to my boss that I wanted to take time off both college and work to travel to Europe. I proposed working full time all summer, leaving during September, October, and half of November and returning to work full time for the Christmas rush. I thought she would say no and I would lose my job but, continuing to be incredibly kind and generous, she agreed. And I was off for a whirlwind tour of France, Italy, then Yugoslavia and Greece (the “mecca” for young people in the 70s). Again, Gump’s offered me the world and I was free to savor every bit of it. I felt undaunted.

-         - The staff at the Jewelry Department was encouraged to wear the jewelry. Quite the juxtaposition -- a “starving” college student modeling lavish pearl necklaces and jade bangles. Once, I was even allowed to wear one out of the store to a date. It was surreal but I was eager to look more sophisticated before this stock broker who would come by on his lunch breaks to speak with me and then finally asked me out. There we were at Trader Vic’s. And there I was, wearing a a $20 dress and a $35,000 necklace.  It was quite a San Francisco moment. The next morning, I simply returned the necklace back to the case.

-        -  And the last story…the holiday upon my return from Europe, one of my work colleagues invited the entire staff to her home for a Christmas party. I will never forget walking into the room and seeing this guy who looked like the actor John Kerr, dressed in loafers, a V neck sweater, and a button-down Brooks Brother shirt. He was the brother in law of my co-worker and was helping her bartend at the party. As it turns out, I married that preppy bartender three years after the Holiday party. He became the father of my daughters. And though the marriage lasted only 18 years, it was yet another fate twisting event that changed my life.

From my personal wedding China,
registered at Gumps

So, you can understand why I am so saddened to read about the closing of this store. On a personal level, it gave me wonderful memories at a time of my life when I should have worked at waitressing jobs and living on tips. Instead it enabled me, against all odds from my family, to obtain a wonderful education from an excellent university. It fulfilled the childhood dream of walking through the doors and becoming a part of a quintessential San Francisco icon. It showed me a more classic, refined way to experience life and helped me define my taste. In the process, I met wonderful, unique, and life changing people. In four years, it transformed me and shaped me into who I would become.

Only in San Francisco, only at Gump’s.

Beyond my personal story, for the city of San Francisco, this final closure is an end of an era. Gump’s personified the once city of ladies who dressed up to go downtown, of homes that were understated and elegant, of a San Francisco culture that took its place on the cultural world scene. Perhaps one day, when values shift back to the quiet elegance of appreciation, there will be regret for the loss of such a landmark of the past.

What remains now is an undefined city scape that boasts large buildings (vulnerable to the next, inevitable major quake). Intoxicated by these times when the internet dictates that convenience, cookie cutter style and mass production counts, the city is bursting in an unknown newness. What remains is immediacy of disposal in the name of acquisition; a compromise of quality for quantity; devaluation of heritage for instantaneous gratification. 

What remains is loss.

Imari from Gumps