Grocery Shopping and the Birth of the Supermarket

“Through the turnstile to a land of Adventure!” Ad for the new Piggly Wiggly grocery stores, The Delineator, January 1929.

Through the Turnstile to a Land of Adventure

The sale this month [January 2015] of Safeway stores to Cerberus Capital Management, which also owns the Albertson’s supermarket chain, reminded me of this advertisement from January 1929, when the supermarket was a new idea. It shows a woman with a market basket who has passed “Through the turnstile to a land of Adventure:”  a Piggly Wiggly supermarket.

At the start of the nineteen twenties, most people had never seen a grocery store where shoppers selected their own produce and canned goods.

Shopping in 1930; photo by Barnaba from Better Homes and Gardens magazine, July 1930.

In the early 1920s, the customer approached the counter, made a request, and the clerk selected the merchandise for the shopper. Much of the merchandise was kept behind the counter. [In France, in 1978, I selected my own apple from a display at an open market, and was immediately scolded by the furious proprietor. Customers did not select their own fruit! One could look, but not touch, and the best produce was reserved for regular customers.]

Ordering groceries by telephone. Ad for Fleischmann’s Yeast, Delineator magazine, August 1924. The grocer wears a suit vest, an apron, and sleeve protectors.

People wealthy enough to have a telephone ordered groceries this way and had them delivered. This was such a common practice that, during World War I, the government asked women to go to the store and pick up their own groceries, to free up manpower (and “grocery boys”)  for military service.

World War I official request, published in Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917.

Piggly Wiggly Advertises a Revolution in Grocery Shopping

The first Piggly Wiggly store, opened by Clarence Saunders in 1916, in Memphis Tennessee, had to introduce its customers to self-service shopping.

“There were shopping baskets, open shelves, and no clerks to shop for the customer – all of which were previously unheard of!” — Official Piggly Wiggly Site. Click here to read the Company History.

Piggly Wiggly Ad, full page, The Delineator, January 1929.

In 1929, shoppers had to be taught how to shop at a Piggly Wiggly; they also had to be convinced that self service was better than being waited upon by clerks. [I am still less than thrilled when I have to do self-checkout at Home Depot and the supermarket. I can’t help thinking about all the jobs that have been lost, how hard it is to get help while shopping, and how often the checkout does not go smoothly.] 

Piggly Wiggly ad, Jan. 1929. By this time, the chain had over 3000 stores “used daily by 2,500,000 women!”

The full-page advertisement showed shelves of canned goods accessible to the shopper, who could handle and inspect the merchandise:

A Piggly Wiggly shopper with a basket selecting her own purchases. Allowing the customer to handle the merchandise was still a new idea in this 1929 ad. [Are the diamonds with numbers Piggly Wiggly’s square price tags, mentioned elsewhere in the ad?]

Elsewhere, the ad has to convince the shopper that she is better off without having a clerk to help her:

Piggly Wiggly ad, Jan. 1929, The Delineator magazine.

“Women like to tell their friends about this unique method of shopping.  They enjoy discussing its advantages.  Old customers send us thousands of new ones every week.

“In a few swift years women have made this plan of household buying a nation-wide vogue.

“With their new, wide knowledge of real values the women of today want to choose for themselves. When they shop for foods, they want no clerks to urge them. To them, this special plan is an easy way to give their families delicious meals at less expense.” — text of Piggly Wiggly Ad, January 1929.

The man behind the counter, Armour meat Ad, Ladies’ Home Journal, July 1917. Grocery clerks like him would be eliminated in the new supermarkets.

“Famous packages, familiar jars and cans, fresh inviting fruits and vegetables — each item with its big square price tag, at Piggly Wiggly.  And no clerks!

“You linger or hurry as you please. Take what you like in your hands, examine it at leisure. You compare prices, make your own decision — uninfluenced by salesmen.”

Subtle Advertising Language

Students of advertising should study the vocabulary of this ad. Certainly, the ability to see the price of every item and to compare them is a help to careful budgeting. But there is also a subtle appeal to the independent “woman of today” who can “choose for herself” and make her “own decisions.”  They are freed from high-pressure salesmen (the clerks in all these ads are men) and from the humiliation of having to ask the clerk for something cheaper. Also, in a world where shopping was still a daily chore, words like “linger” and “leisure” and “vogue” are emotionally powerful.

Of course, “Consistently lower prices are assured by our unusual and economical plan of operation.”

Which brings me back to the Safeway-Albertson’s merger under Cerberus Capital Management;  according to Andrew S. Ross, writing in the San Francisco Chronicle:

“There are elements of deja vu for Safeway. In 1986, it was taken private in a $4.25 billion leveraged buyout by led by Kohlberg Kravis Roberts. The deal worked out wonderfully for KKR, which made $7.2 billion on its initial $129 million investment when it sold its stake in 1999. Not so much for the tens of thousands of Safeway employees who lost their jobs as a result of mass store closings and other cuts.”

No gains without pains. . . .  But let’s return to the 1920’s. Imagine stores without endless aisles wide enough to accommodate shopping carts (yet to be invented — or needed). There were no frozen foods. The same fruits and vegetables were not available all year round. There were no scanning devices, or universal price codes.  There were no stickers on apples and pears, and no wax on cucumbers or tomatoes. It was safe to eat a raw egg or a medium rare hamburger. Cellophane was a new invention, not used for wrapping foods until the mid-1920’s.  Imagine a time when entering a store through a turnstile was an adventure! Never mind that the new turnstile was an anti-theft device.  “Just walk through the turnstile and help yourself!” How delightful.

Detail, ad for Piggly Wiggly stores, The Delineator, Jan. 1929.

 

Every Soldier Needs a Charm and a Chuckle; November, 1918

 

Soldiers, Camp Fremont, CA, 1918. Camp Fremont was in Menlo Park, just south of Redwood City.

If you watched the episodes of Downton Abbey that took place during World War I, you probably remember a pocket-sized toy which Matthew carried into battle as a good luck charm.

“Bundoos” — good luck charms to make for soldiers, Delineator, Nov. 1918.

The Butterick Company offered directions for making a set of twelve different “bundoos” in its Delineator magazine, November, 1918. I can certainly imagine groups of young women having stitching parties to make good luck mascots for the boys at the front. The charms were light-weight, soft, and flat enough to be tucked into a soldier’s tunic or pocket – and, equally important, small and light enough to be put in an envelope and mailed overseas.

“An Army Mule for a Yank of the Transportation Service.”

The title of the accompanying Delineator article was, “Wish Them a Merry Christmas: Every Soldier Needs a Charm and a Chuckle,” by Bernice Brown, with illustrations by Agnes Lee.

Only a few of the available mascots were illustrated, but the article itself is filled with references to superstitions of the World War I era that may surprise you. It’s also a good example of the tone of many war-time appeals to women.

A load of hay. Quick, make a wish!

Superstitions, 1918

“Everybody is superstitious. You have counted white horses, haven’t you, and wished on a load of hay and tucked a four-leaf clover into your oxford, even though you knew somebody was looking? . . . You have wished on the first star and been reasonably confident that your wish was recorded on the books of the Fulfiller of Wishes Department.”

Dreaming About a Paris Bus: a Death Omen?

“Of course, there are still a few people who whisper about ‘bad omens’ and the ‘evil eye’ and how unlucky is it to have your path crossed by an inky feline. Those persons are stupid and unprogressive pessimists. . . . We can prove, too, that baleful omens are impotent and quite easily tricked. For instance, there is a rumor in France that to dream of a Paris auto-bus is fatal. One American bid farewell to all his friends because the night before he had been tormented by such an omen.

” ‘You’ve never seen a Paris bus,’ insisted a friend. ‘What did the spook look like?’ The phantom auto was described. ‘That’s just a new tank the British are using,’ explained the friend. Accordingly, the bad omen was double-crossed and the American soldier is alive today.”

A Scarecrow Mascot “For a Signal Service chap.”

Mascots for Soldiers and Sailors

“Mascots, however, are invaluable. Everybody should have one, especially soldiers and sailors. Early in the game our friends the ‘Tommies’ decided in their favor, and today no ‘comfort-kit’ is complete without a ‘bundoo.’ They are worn under the neck and inside the shirt, buttoned into a pocket, or, in moments of stress, grasped firmly in the left hand of the brave.

“The Tommy likes his mascot made of a wishbone and a monkey-nut [i.e., peanut] on which are painted eyes, nose and a mouth fearful enough to terrify any invading Hun spirit.”

“One Hundred Percent Lucky” Charms for World War One

“From a great variety of mascots we have chosen five for this page which we are convinced are one hundred percent lucky. These we recommend that you make . . . and send in your Christmas letters to the boys to whom you wish all the special good luck in the world.

“Instead of writing a meager postal-card, make them a mascot. It may take you a little longer, but who wouldn’t spend two hours if, as a result of her effort, she could make a soldier chuckle for two minutes?

“We recommend first the wish-bone mascot.

“Lucky Jack” mascot made from a wishbone.

“This works in any branch of the service, but we should say it was especially adapted for the Navy because of the span of its pedal extremities. Sailors would appreciate why a nautical mascot must stand thusly when the ship is plunging under him…. Lucky Jack is made of brown felt with blue-jacket covering; …letters cut of paper pasted on; beads for the eyes; mouth of hair or silk, cap and collar of white felt or paper. [The legs and feet are presumably the ends of the wishbone.] “

“The white mule mascot…is enhanced by a colored felt saddle and head-piece; eyes pasted on; mane and tail made of raffia; body of mule cut double and sewed to hold card with verse.

“The scarecrow we recommend for anyone of the Signal Service.

“He is cut quite simply from black felt; face painted on paper of silk and pasted on. Hair may be made of yellow wool or raffia; hands and feet of raffia; white buttons. The following verse is sent with him:

For many years without a gun

I’ve fought black pests alone.

If you will take me on with you

I’ll help you halt the Hun.

[The “black pests” are, of course, the crows he scared away from farmers’ crops.]

“Peter Rabbit will suit a Southerner.”

“All the boys south of the Mason and Dixon line appreciate the rabbit foot. If one foot is good, why not four? Peter Rabbit is made of white felt, red bead eyes, red mouth, black whiskers; features sewed with black thread or marked with a pen. Or the rabbit may be made of brown felt with a white cotton tail, pink eyes and mouth; black whiskers.”

“Old Witch of magic fame.”

“We should send [Old Witch] to all engineers who, at a moment’s notice, conjure up bridges across rushing streams. With the power of Old Witch added, . . . soon they will be bridging the Rhine and into Germany. ” Her hat has a slit to fit over a button; her broom is a match-stick and raffia.

A Bundoo for the One You Love Best

” ‘Treat ‘em Rough,’ the pirate, is a favorite. We should send [Treat ‘em Rough] by all means to the ‘one you love best.” He sleeps with one eye open and never takes vacations. He is the most sure-fire, on-the-job, energetic mascot we know anything about.” He is made of felt with embroidery rings in his ears, toothpick or paper covered with foil for his knives, and fastened on the back with a little safety-pin.

Make All Six Mascots Several Times Over

“. . . Make one for the boy who used to carry your books home from high-school . . . and the boy you taught to waltz, . . . and the boy who used to put on your skates and who taught you to do the ‘Dutch roll’, and the boy you used to say was teacher’s pet. He’ll need lots of luck.”

“Englishwomen send their brothers and sweethearts a lucky gold-piece. The Italian soldier carries a tiny bit of coral . . . as a charm against the ‘evil eye,’ and the American soldier continues to be a devoted believer in the horseshoe….”

“You can see how essential the mascot has become. It is no new development of modern warfare along with the seventy-five mile gun and the ‘cootie.’  The ancient Greeks depended on it quite as much as the long-range javelin and the battering-ram.” [Soldiers in the trenches were plagued by lice, which the Americans called cooties.]

Women’s Duty: Knitting and Working and Smiling

“There are times when all of us like to depend on some power outside ourselves. . . . On ninety-nine occasions we are reasonable and sane and sensible; on the hundredth we would give half our monthly salary for a good, reliable, sure-fire mascot.

“The lives of our soldiers are full of ‘hundredth’ occasions….The knowledge that someone is wishing for him and caring for him will work wonders….No army wins that doesn’t believe in itself, and it only believes when ‘every woman to a girl’ is behind it . . . knitting and working and smiling.”

A Redwood City girl, age 17, with Camp Fremont soldier Walter van Alyne, age 20. 1918.

Mascots for Morale

“In fact, every boy in the service should have a mascot this Christmas. We can not send boxes – such are the fortunes of war – but we can write to them and a mascot fits very neatly into an envelope….Perhaps these little charms may seem fanciful and insignificant, but every boy who tucks one inside the O.D. shirt will feel a new warmth and an added courage where before, perhaps, there was a touch of loneliness.”

NOTE: World War One ended on November 11, 1918. Shortly after this November magazine article hit the newsstands, making “Bundoos” was no longer necessary for the war effort.