Once again I find myself writing about a name you only read in obituaries nowadays.
(It’s a lonely business, like clearing the leaves off a grave, but not without its pleasures all the same.)
This week we ring the bells of memory and follow my grandpa into a once-proud community institution that was already dying when he went to visit:
December 16, 1969.
I’ve written about department stores before, almost three years ago, so I won’t unleash the full torrent of my crap on you again. (My views have not changed.)
Suffice it to say that C.O. Miller’s was another in America’s seemingly endless roster of once-beloved downtown department stores.
Founded by Charles O. Miller in 1868, it moved through several downtown locations before settling into a bent-wedge-shaped brick building at 15 Bank Street in 1933.
(This photo spread of C.O. Miller’s posted by the Stamford Historical Society provides an interesting glimpse inside what an American department store looked like in 1917, as well as a look at Mr. Miller himself.)
Stamfordites of a certain age remember the store fondly … the walking outside on crisp winter days; the dignified absence of breathless Black Friday geekery; the white-gloved elevator attendants.
People of other ages — like, my age and younger — don’t remember it at all, because the ’60s was the last full decade C.O. Miller’s would survive. It closed in 1973 or ’74 (sources differ), and had been a discount-store shell of its former self under out-of-town owners for a period of time before that.
Although some urban renewal took place in the general vicinity of 15 Bank Street, the distinctively shaped C.O. Miller’s building is still there — a short distance from Mill River Park, former home of the previously explored Pink Tent Festival.
(It’s also a few blocks away from 307 Atlantic St., which I’ve just discovered is where The Jerry Springer Show tapes its episodes. Whaddya know.)
Mmmmm, falafel. (Yeah, I snagged this from Google Maps. The former C.O. Miller’s building is at left center. I believe there was a nearby warehouse where the giant parking garage is now.)
I couldn’t guess at this juncture what walking cap, scarf, bottle of perfume, or pair of gloves brought my grandpa to C.O. Miller’s. No doubt the store was bedecked in Christmas abundance, or as much as it could muster at that point in its history.
He went shopping in the afternoon, just a few days before the shortest day of the year. Perhaps the sunshine was feeble and the air chilly on Bank and Main streets when he exited with his purchase, whatever it was.
Perhaps he looked around and thought, “I’m not coming back here.” And then, like so many others, he didn’t.
These are the sorts of small decisions, repeated thousands of times over, that turn one-time community pillars into names you only read in obituaries.
Hope Street 
I like the remaining department stores – they’re a bit better than a bigbox discounter and cheaper than nice stores. There’s a Sears near me that supposedly was the biggest in the DC area when it opened in the late ’60s. The area has kind of declined and its shopping center has seen better days, but it’s still a nice store and Sears does things like let you order on-line and pick up there for free. And because they’re going out of business and desperate, they offer all sorts of nonsensical discounts and rebates.
Yeah, you should probably take advantage of the Sears perks and discounts while they’re there.
Well, it’s really Citi that insists on giving me 10% back on all my grocery purchases each month with my Sears-branded Mastercard, even though I always pay off my balance.
I’d bet your grandfather bought a Christmas gift for your grandmother there. She liked to shop there, if I remember correctly.