Underneath Washington Street the subways cross each other. It is there that Boston's retailing prototype, the department stores, have buried their foundation deep in harbor mud to catch the swirling masses before they reach the light of day.

Up off-black trains crowd after crowd jostles and fights past grimy turnstiles into a world of pale blue walls, glass doors, chrome-plated escalators, and emaciated salesgirls. Plump ladies fill the aisles, new mothers fondle bibs, middle-aged housewives try on the latest fashions illuminated by indirect lighting, and dirty-faced boys in brand new shoes follow Mama from counter to counter.

Cash registers jungle, Johnny Ray drones over the crowd, and children wail for their mummies. Everyone hurries.

"Be with you in a just a minute, sir" the girl says. She looks haggard. "That will be eight-five cents, ma'am." "No, these are not tropical gold fish." "Just a minute sir, I believe you only gave me a quarter." "No, South Station is down the sheet."

This is the old retailing business. This is the land of overcrowded sidewalks, of subways and skyscrapers. This is the land of the central location where the bargain hunting customer first clashed with the ulcer-conscious executive.

On the outskirts of Boston and every large city a new retailing business is growing. It is still the land of Hopalong Cassidy suits, vacuum cleaners, and nylon stockings. It is also the land of vast parking places, long, low buildings and customer convenience.

Already this new frontier in American retailing is threatening to change the merchandising and shopping habits of all the larger metropolitan areas. In Los Angeles last year only a third of the area's department store volume was accounted for in downtown stores. Framingham's now Shoppers' World is typical of the retailers rush for the suburbs, and is typical of the markets gradual change in tactics to meet a change in American way of living.

New Tactics

Rapid suburban growth, more automobiles, choked traffic, inadequate parking, and poor public transit have finally forced the retailer to switch his tactics to catch up with the people.

So far, the planners into the future have been all too few. No branch department store has yet proved too large. The retail world is already full of men who have built too small. Sentiment runs today that 150,000 feet is the absolute minimum for a full-line suburban department store, and some go as high as demanding 300,000 feet to do the right job.

Even now, the retailers are again faced with a parking problem. They have not built their suburban lots large enough. In an ever-changing industry operating at a helter-skelter pace this lack of planning represents one of the crying needs of the retail trade. The business has never had and may never have the chance to catch up with itself, relax, and plan.

The retailing scheme consists of over a million and a half independent, chain, leased department, side-line, and consumer cooperative stores, together doing the third largest volume of business in the country, and supplying 90% of the needs of the country.

Despite its recent development, the retail industry is far from easy street.

In an age of mechanization, the trade still must rely almost solely upon manpower for its success. The IBMs are still few and the salesgirls are many. It is business of buying and selling. It is a business whose success rides on the infinite perception, dogged persuasion, and constant conversion of human beings.

Cut-Throat Competition