The Willow Glen Resident

Photograph courtesy of Cookie Curci-Wright

Christmas Past: Cookie Curci-Wright and her brother, Tony, pose in front of the family Christmas tree in 1952.

Waiting for the Super Chief

During the 1940s, the arrival of the holiday season automatically inspired our family to haul out the popular fall edition of the Sears Roebuck catalog.

Within the pages of this bountiful book were the Christmas gifts every family member dreamed of: fashions, toys, household goods, jewelry and sporting equipment.

For Mom, it was the latest in appliances and fashion that attracted her fancy, while Dad peered wistfully at a new set of golf clubs or camping equipment in the sporting goods department. Every year, my big brother Tony and I passed all of these pages and went directly to the toy section, where we found listings for Tinkertoys, Slinkys, dolls and wagons--items all high on my personal wish list. But that year, only one item warranted my brother's attention: the Lionel Super Chief model train set. Like most boys his age, Tony longed to find that awesome train under the Christmas tree.

As was our family practice just before the holidays each year, we picked and sold our backyard walnut harvest to the local nut industries and warehouses. The picking, shelling and sacking of these messy nuts was a fall ritual and a laborious job shared by every family member. But it was always worth our hard work when Dad divided up all our earnings equally at the end of the year, allowing each of us to buy a gift for ourselves from our long wish lists.

That year, Bergmann's was brimming with toys. Featured in the store's big window display was the grand and glorious Lionel Super Chief. Every day Tony, with his nose pressed up against the cold window-pane and his warm breath fogging up the glass, gawked lovingly at the streamlined train as it roared proudly along its tracks.

Like most local kids at Christmastime, Tony found Bergmann's window displays irresistible and paused each time he passed for a good long look at the beguiling train. Knowing that the train set was far out of reach for the family budget, Tony decided to earn his own money to pay for the pricey toy. No job was too big or too small for him to tackle that month. He sacrificed his playtime to cut and trim neighborhood lawns, wash windows, run errands, wash cars and walk dogs.

At the end of the month, just days before Christmas, Tony's total earnings reached $20--a lot for a boy of 10 to earn in 1948, but not nearly enough for the costly Super Chief.

It was the day before Christmas when Tony walked past Bergmann's big window for a final look at his beloved train set. To his dismay, he found the window bare. The train set was gone. Rushing inside the store, he was heartbroken to learn that a gentleman had purchased the train just that very morning as a Christmas gift for his son.

That Christmas morning as I unwrapped my stack of gifts, I noticed Tony showed little interest in opening his presents. His heart was set on owning that train, and nothing was going to appease him. Dad tried to comfort him by saying there'd be other holidays and other trains, and encouraged him to open his gifts and make the best of it. Reluctantly, Tony opened his small stack of presents.

Tony opened his gift from Dad last. Inside the box was a wooden model airplane kit. "Let's go into the garage and put it together, son," Dad coaxed his disheartened 10-year-old. Tony sadly obliged, and together they walked out to the garage to work on the model airplane.

When Tony opened the garage door, he was astonished to find the Lionel Super Chief waiting for him, fully assembled and rolling around on its tracks. The set came complete with train depot, boxcars, cattle cars and red caboose. Tony's eyes filled with sheer amazement and joy. A moment later, he was at the master-control switches with Dad, spending the remainder of Christmas Day playing with that glorious choo-choo.

Mr. Bergmann had given Dad a bargain on the display train in the shop window, and each of us contributed a portion of our walnut profits to making Tony's wish come true. I can say that it was well worth it, as 47 years later, I still remember his look of complete surprise and happiness. The expression of pure elation on my big brother's face is a treasured memory I recall each Christmas morning.

[ Back to Contents Page | Willow Glen Resident Home Page | Archives ]