A Rockaway Christmas Between Pals 1947

By Jean Caligiuri McKenna

Whelan Drugstores were a familiar sight throughout New York City in the 1930s – ‘50s. With large loopy cursive neon letters, the renowned chain store pharmacy “Whelan’s” sign along city blocks evoked five and dime images from Bufferin to Ovaltine. An oasis of soaps, cough syrups, cigars, heat lamps, and teapots filled its walls and floors like a knick-knack sanctuary. In addition to their knowledgeable druggists and vast medicine cabinet, some stores had a nurse on site, soda fountain counters, and second floor businesses with various renters from doctor offices to dance studios. When they opened up one in Rockaway on my Beach 84th Street corner in the 1940s, it was the antithesis of the small corner drugstore. Neighboring Temple Israel, Whelan’s shiny new modern edifice on the boulevard quickly established itself as a fixed landmark and social hub. In time, its location especially became a hotspot once its overhead tenant, Dr. Blum, introduced his youthful new junior partner, Norman Brust. Creating an unusual buzz of female traffic in and out of the building, it was an open secret that gals, young and old, would feign headaches just to make checkup appointments with the handsome young doctor upstairs.

Sometime before the arrival of Dr. Brust’s boyish charms, my P.S. 44 classmate and chum, Jeannie Vega, and I would frequent Whelan’s doors, but not for Milk of Magnesia. Instead, we’d avidly browse its adolescent haven of feminine attractions. At 13, we felt grown up and chic inside its modern department store feel with wide space and bright fluorescent overhead lighting. Amidst romance magazines, 10-cent hand creams, and eye-catching nail polish, it was a great way to spend afternoons, within budget. From afar, I would covet the fancy fragrance glass-counter, exhibiting upscale toiletries like Coty’s Powder, Ponds Cream, and the extravagant midnight blue bottle “Evening in Paris” perfume. In my mind, these off limit gems, all upwards of a dollar, were reserved for cosmopolitan and sophisticated ladies.

When the holiday season came around, Jeannie and I decided we’d each buy the other something from Whelan’s. Like many first-generation Americans, Christmas trees, gifts, mistle-toe and “Jingle Bells” weren’t a holiday thing in our houses. Our immigrant parents instead held to the Old-World traditions they knew. A new Christmas Day outfit, Mass, and simple family dinner with homemade pastries were more or less the common rituals for us. So, between pals is where we would get the holiday spirit in songs, caroling, and gift giving.

In contrast to the decked-out garland storefronts of Woolworth’s and W.T. Grant on Far Rockaway’s Central Avenue, a Green Bus Line ride away, the simple worn tinseled mom and pop windows along Rockaway Beach Boulevard mirrored the gray December day when I walked into Whelan’s with 30 cents to buy Jeannie’s gift.

It didn’t take me long to find the Dura-Gloss nail polish that she liked so much, for 15 cents. Its rich colors like Century Red, Shell Pastel, and Red Pepper, bottled with a unique fingernail tip style cap were quite popular among young models and starlets. As I made the purchase at the counter, I also noticed a beautiful white linen handkerchief with cotton lace trim for only 10 cents. What girl wouldn’t like to have a pretty hanky to carry in her purse, I excitedly thought! So, I bought not one, but two presents for her. What luck! I left Whelan’s with a sense of glee and accomplishment, pleased to be able to put together such a tidy gift set for a quarter.

On Christmas Day, under typically gray skies, Jeannie and I met up to exchange our presents with each other. Wanting to save the surprise of my presentation for last, I opened her offering first. My eyes widened as I saw the flash of forbidden blue. I blinked twice and gasped. In my hand, the words spelled it all – “Evening in Paris”- $1.19! Instead of elation, my heart quickly sank with guilt and shame. “Oh no,” I panicked, “what kind of friend am I to give a 25-cent gift, after accepting such a lavish one?” I embarrassedly held my breath, even as Jeannie glowed with surprise and delight at her gifts, especially the linen hanky. But my spirits were dampened. I felt so bad that I spent so little on her after she spent so much on me.

That’s when Jeannie confessed to me that her father had given her the dollar for the perfume. She had no money but wanted to please me with a fancy gift nonetheless. By the same token, I had been equally determined to please her with the little change I saved up on my own. We both laughed! The values were the same after all! In our hearts, it was an even exchange of kindness, affection, and friendship.

There were light flurries dancing in the air as we parted, wishing each other Merry Christmas as we headed back home to our families for Christmas dinner.

Time stood still that night as the snow flurries outside were slowly galloping into a massive blizzard that would snow in much of the city for the next week.

In the silent Rockaway hours of a white Christmas, I nestled in my room, safely resting in the season’s riches of love and goodwill, serenely spending the “Evening in Paris.”