Remembering the Mall

They've been called grotesque monuments to capitalism, but to a lot of people malls were so much more than that.

The great American shopping malls began to develop in the nineteen-fifties. The goal was to make shopping less of a chore and more of a pleasurable experience. Of course profit was the primary factor in building them, but the mall represented a community experience.

People went to malls to shop, but in addition to the many stores there were movie theaters, restaurants, hair and beauty salons, gaming arcades. Playgrounds, carousels, and candy shops.

Many malls deliberately did not have windows. They owners wanted to create an enclosed universe. Rainy days did not exist at the mall. as an early advert proclaimed, "Every day is a perfect shopping day!"

The original malls were aimed toward women. A place for housewives to spent time, as well as their husbands earnings. By the time I came of age teenagers had made malls their own.

Any why not? Kids needed a place to go. They definitely did not want to stay home. Where else could they go to discover new fashions, eat junk food, see movies, and simply hang out?

Many young people learned to drive in spacious mall parking lots. Parents took their teens there in the early morning to let them practice.

I loved going to malls. For a number of years I lived right across the street from a big one called Newmarket North. I went all the time. We didn't have any decent independent bookstores, so WaldenBooks was my go-to for new reading materials. I also loved the record stores, the food court, and of course the movie theaters.

I would come home on Friday, get cleaned up, and practically run to the mall. I could not wait to see if there were any new titles in the horror section of WaldenBooks. I can acutely remember the thrill of seeing a new Skipp and Spector, garish covers and all, on the racks. I never knew when a McCammon, a Garton, a Lansdale would be out. Or maybe the current issue of Fangoria or Twilight Zone.

Then there was the four-screen AMC theater. I saw movies at other indoors cinemas, and at drive-ins, but I saw a lot at the Newmarket AMC. I get wistful thinking about seeing The Kindred, Creepshow 2, Nightmare on Elm Street 3, Child's Play, Hellraiser, Wild At Heart, Exorcist 3, Deep Star Six, Lord of Illusions, In the Mouth of Madness and dozens of others. I even got to watch Two Evil Eyes there, so no one can say I have not seen an Argento movie at the mall.

We'd hit the mall on Friday nights when I was a teen. Most kids did. They played games, scoped out the other boys and girls, ate, and mostly horsed around.

I had some years of solitude when in my twenties and thirties, and I'd go to the mall. That was the place I'd be most likely to run into an old friend. It was a way to get out of my tomb of a house and be around people.

By the late nineties things began to change. A big Barnes and Noble opened nearby, and I remember the day the Walden manager told me she was leaving to go to work there. The writing was on the wall.

The internet was coming on strong, and music distribution changed very quickly and very dramatically. The record stores started to have fewer and fewer customers.

A monolithic 24-screen AMC multiplex opened up a few miles away. The little four screener at the mall hung on for a while, but it closed down.

The big anchor store was a Sears. I liked to shop there. Sears sold well-made products that were built to last. The final blow to the mall was when it closed its doors. Who wants to buy something intended to last for years when cheap things are available at Walmart and Amazon? Spoiled Americans get bored with appliances and furniture after a few years anyway.

Newmarket Mall still stands, but no stores are within the walls. It's all office spaces. The Sears is a huge storage facility.

Today people would rather stay in self-imposed exile. Many have no wish to leave the comforts of their homes, where they have elaborate game systems, home theaters that put the old screen from the eighties to shame. Nearly everything we need can be delivered to our doors or our gadgets.

Not everything. Not a community experience. Not a place to see movies with a group and share the excitement. Not gaming as a social activity. Not shopping for books and music among other fans.

Maybe it had to change. Our society certainly is, and it's not for the better. A while back someone opened fire at the exit of a local mall, wounding several people. Fights occur. The magic, at least for me, is gone.

Our area used to support three malls, now there is one. I honestly don't see how they keep the doors open. I went last Christmas because I knew a phone repair place was inside. A few days before Christmas and the place was nearly deserted. Once upon a time there would be people joyously shopping, music playing. A thriving community.

There are no bookstores, no record stores, no pinball machines, and no movies there.

Is it just me? Am I looking back with rose-colored glasses? Was the mall really as crude as some claimed it was?

I don't think so. I remember the cacophonous roar from the arcade. I can close my eyes and see teens, as loud and arrogant as kids have been throughout time, carrying on with their friends, laughing and having fun.

I remember the food court. The exquisite joy of finding books at Walden. Of renting movies from the music store. I remember a community of people more in touch with one another.

I remember a place we were drawn to, just like the ghouls from Dawn of the Dead. It was a Mecca and people paid tithe. Change for the arcade machines, charge cards and cash, and our very presence. We had a place to get away from the dungeons our homes can become when we spend too much time there. We had a place to be together.

Written by Mark Sieber