UP UNTIL THE mid-1960s, Baltimore's downtown department store windows helped define the Christmas season for many people. The big stores -- Hochschild's, Hutzler's, Hecht's, Stewart's -- all concentrated around Howard and Lexington streets -- used to vie to create the most exciting (and the most extravagant and mechanically advanced) Christmas gardens.
For their time they were extremely sophisticated: skaters skated, firemen climbed ladders, dancers danced, dogs chased cats, snow fell, birds flew, buffalo roamed. Crowds were so deep window-to-curb that wooden defenses were constructed to hold back the churning sea of humanity.
Though many of the holiday displays in those store windows have merged in my mind, I'll never forget one particular display and one little boy's reaction to it.
It was Christmas Eve 1953 and a light snow was falling in Baltimore. The scene in front of Hochschild's Howard Street windows was a Baltimore Christmas card; the thick and heavily mufflered crowds, the bone-rattling hymn singing of the Salvation Army folks, the blind beggars, the shopping bag vendors, the shouting newsboys and the aroma of chestnuts roasting on the open fires of small grills on some downtown street corners.
Close to the window, a young child tugged at his mother's arm.
"What's it all about, Mommy?" he asked.
"Well," she said, "it's like a play. It's called 'The Littlest Angel.' " She lifted him up so he could take in the full scene. What he saw was a wondrous extravaganza -- mechanical angels waved wands, nodded their heads and carried gift boxes, while singing "Hark the Herald Angels Sing."
"But what's the 'Littlest Angel?' " the child persisted. The display ran in sequence through eight of Hochschild's Howard Street windows.
The mother explained as she moved from window to window, struggling through the crowd, "Each angel is bringing a gift to the head angel. See, this one has a jewel box."
"But the head angel says, 'No,' right, Mom?"
"Yes. And here's another angel bringing a gift. It looks like a tiny sled. The head angel doesn't seem to want that either. She is shaking her head, 'No.' "
"What's that other little angel doing?"
"Trying to get through the bigger angels to bring a gift to the head angel."
"What is the gift?"
"It's a scroll with a word on it!"
"Look, Mommy, the little angel is at the throne of the head angel. The little angel is handing the head angel the gift! I wonder what it is?"
"There," the mother says, "the little angel is holding up the scroll. It says, 'JOY.' " The little angel gave the gift of joy. Snow, the tinkling of bells, the aroma of slowly roasting chestnuts, the color and the warmth of the Santas on every corner huddled by their oil drum fires -- that was the magic of old Baltimore's Howard and Lexington streets at Christmastime.
Then the child said, "The gift of joy. That's the best gift, isn't it?"
Indeed it is. Merry Christmas