Richs Department Store once represented everything elegant and tasteful and was a magnet for Christmas shoppers from all over the south. For many of the rural uppercrust, (and for those who were aspiring-to-be or former upper crust) a Christmas shopping trip to Atlanta aboard the Nancy Hanks was the highlight of the year. Photo from Historic American Building Survey.


(Note: I have many new readers and am continuing to repost some of my favorite earlier publications and stories . This appeared in a slightly different version in North Georgia Living. )

 Christmas season puts me in mind of my great aunts, “Galbaby” and “Sister.” * Each year in early December, my father’s aunts left their home in Vashti, Georgia, traversing the Pine Barrens in in their father’s old 1949 Cadillac sedan that was driven by their father’s personal driver, “China Jack”. They made their way to Millen, Georgia where the sisters caught the “Nancy Hanks” passenger train making its run from Savannah to Atlanta,  and to the fabled happy hunting grounds of the most fabulous department store in the South: Rich’s. 

Aunt Galbaby and Sister would spend the night with their sister, “Gracie” who was married to the small- town doctor in Millen and take the early train out of Savannah the next morning. In those days, every county in Georgia was “dry.” That means liquor cold not legally be sold. Because Bourbon was the key ingredient in fruitcake, Gracie would fill a Mason jar with this nectar of the gods purchased from the local moonshiner (the sheriff’s brother) and would use the occasion of Ruth’s and Sister’s visit to Atlanta to send along a Blue Plate Mayonaise jar of this to their sister in Atlanta. Gracie disguised the shipment by labeling the contents “Cane Syrup.” Of course no one would ever suspect the Judge’s daughters, Galbaby and Sister, pillars of the Methodist Church that they were, of being rum runners. Galbaby would carry the stuff in her little vanity suitcase with her ther “necessaries”.

Women from all the best families converged on Rich’s every December, anticipating lavish attention from attractive clerks and lunch in the divine little Magnolia Tea Room. Disembarking in Atlanta at the old Terminal Station (torn down back in the 1980’s I think), they walked across the Spring Street Bridge (also now demolished) to spend a day Christmas shopping at Rich’s Department Store (now gone). 

Rich’s was the Valhalla of all that was beautiful and fashionable. It occupied an entire downtown Atlanta block. Its street-level windows were always beautifully decorated with the latest wares, its salesmen and women dressed in their finest.  Its many departments were linked by suction tubes that carried receipts and orders in canisters propelled by compressed air to mysterious and efficient rooms where all transactions were recorded by an army of well- trained clerks.

Well, Galbaby and Sister got on the train about 7:00 AM. Galbaby put the little suitcase in the overhead rack and the two of them settled down for the trip. At 9:00 AM they powdered their noses and joined their friends in the warmth of dining car. By 10:00 AM, they were back in their seats for the last leg into Atlanta.

Meanwhile, the car had become over-warm. The December sun can quickly override the mild winter cold in south Georgia. Of course, nobody would have dreamed of opening the windows and have their hats and hair blown around, so the sisters were soon lulled to sleep by the swaying of the train and the constant “clakety-clak” sound.

Galbaby got up to powder her nose, leaving Sister sound asleep beneath the now thoroughly shaken jar of spirits. No one noticed a gentle “pop” as the pressure cracked the jar inside the suitcase. When Galbaby returned, she fell asleep. A sort of illicit christening began as the moonshine soaked the delicate contents of the overnight case and a slow drip annointed Sister’s hair, quickly drying before the next drop fell -but imparting a soft sweet smell recoginzable to even the most devout Methodist.

In this manner, the president of the Vashti Chapter of the Daughters of the Confederacy came to be baptized -cursed, actually- with a new spirit. When Aunts Galbaby and Sister de-trained at the terminal they noticed a pungent, but not unpleasant, odor and were glad to deposit their bit of luggage in a locker and get out into the crisp air of the December day, heading for Rich’s Department Store in high spirits.

In those days, a trip to Rich’s included lunch at the Magnolia Tea Room, absolutely the most elegant little dining room in the world. Alerted to the arrival of some of his wealthiest customers, the store’s owner, Mr. Dick Rich had made special arrangements. The bridal consultant, known to people all over the South as “Penelope Pen” from her column in the Atlanta paper, doubled as the shopping consultant to the elite of society. Her name was Miss Luddie Parrish. Luddie was waiting to greet the delegation from the Pine Barrens with tea, dainty sandwiches, and shopping suggestions.

As the little group began to settle in for this treat, the closeness of the room revived the odor of liquor.  Miss Luddie ignored this until the smell absolutely took her breath away, and then sent a messenger to Mr. Rich. Unwilling to personally intervene in this situation, Mr. Rich summoned one of the store detectives, hoping that a mere show of offialness would encourage the guilty party to leave.

Ignorant of their peril, Aunts Galbaby and Sister continued to assume that someone- probably Cousin Sarah (the Episcopal minister’s wife)-had been “nipping.” Innocent to the last, everyone talked on, lulled by the Christmas spirit and the thrill of being in those hallowed halls of shopping. When Sister and Galbaby went back for seconds, they were then and there discovered and politely asked to leave. Oh, the humiliation!

I will not tire you with the details of the aftermath of this sobering tale. Galbaby and Sister were shunned on the ride home and from that time on they never returned to Rich’s and never rode the Nancy Hanks again. Had their father not been “The Judge,” even their membership in the Methodist Church and the United Daughters of the Confederacy would surely have been at risk. This marked the beginning of what our family still refers to as the “Secluded Period” in the lives of Sister and Galbaby.  Only gradually were they able to return to their familiar social circles.  Fortunately, they spent their otherwise unoccupied time spoiling the nieces and nephews of my generation.

* (A disclaimer: You may find the names of my family members a bit odd; but remember that in the rural South unmarried daughters often retain their childhood nicknames throughout their lives.)


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