I remember buying (with my parents’ help - paperwork wise) my first rifle from Woolworth’s in our local mall. Nowadays, that mall is the ultra-chic, can’t-afford-to-shop-there mall. Just like you described, Ted. I knew the counter man by name as we’d ride our bicycles (Sting Rays of course) three miles to the mall and hang around. Those were good days when a group of shaggy haired youngsters could safely go that far from home without fear - and be trusted not to get in trouble with the law.
The guy behind the counter knew my Dad and I by first name. We showed up after dinner on a Friday night, an hour or so before they closed, and he brought every new 12 gauge 1100 out, his idea, not mine, and we all appraised the wood on each gun, maybe 8 of them, and he let me pick one I liked the most. With tax, it was $211.00, I think it was 1978. I made $2.65 an hour at the grocery store, it seemed like it took forever to get that pile of money saved up.
The only kids who had Schwinn in our neighborhood got them used. I didn’t live on the wrong side of the tracks, but, you could hear the trains from where I did.
I look at new guns, now, and the thrill is gone. But, it was a thrill for me back then.
Best,
Ted