Today, I went to my parents’ house to help Dad organize another batch of Thalhimers items to donate to the Virginia Historical Society. Immediately, I got caught up in the story all over again. I so easily get lost in the drama of it all. The glamour, the creativity, the tension, the tireless work, the commitment, the loyalty. The sheer breadth and weight of the history Thalhimers spanned. That store endured and witnessed so much.
Dad said, “just go through it quickly and see if there’s anything you want to keep for your kids.” But I couldn’t go quickly. I spread things out on the floor and the pool table and gazed at them. I took pictures of pictures. A photo of Grandpa meeting President Gerald Ford. Another of Mary Martin…accompanied by a handwritten letter from her that sounded exactly what you’d think a missive from an actress in the 1950s should sound like. I ran a finger across the etched lettering on a card from Jackie Kennedy. I held a Western Union telegram from President John F. Kennedy asking Grandpa to attend a meeting at the White House. I smelled the musty scent of Amelia Thalhimer’s engagement album from 1877, full of handwritten poems and drawings from her long-forgotten friends. Dad and I turned the pages of Isaac Thalhimer’s prayerbook to find where he had written the birth and death dates of our ancestors in the center pages. Dad said, “can we part with these things?” Yes, we decided. We can part with them if it means we can share the story with others.
The only thing I kept was Grandpa’s Thalhimers charge card. I simply can’t part with it.
Today, six years after releasing my book, here’s the thing that struck me most: all of a sudden, I had complete clarity about the painstaking work that went into that book…and everything that I DIDN’T include. Perhaps I edited it too tightly and left out too much. I deeply regret not including detailed endnotes to show how much research went behind single sentences. I wish I could go back in time and show more of the seams on the underside of the nice, neat hemlines of my book.
A memory came flooding back to me. I was sitting in the hallway of the Richmond Ballet as a girl, putting my hair into a bun for class while watching the professional dancers remove their ballet shoes. And oh, their feet. They were bloodied and bruised. Covered in bandages. These dancers float like chiffon onstage, so effortless and fluid with their sparkling eyes and sculpted bodies and gazelle-like grace. You can’t see any of the blood or the bandages. Because they don’t want us to see that part. They want us to see the beauty of their art…not the pain.
Today, I realized the pain that went into crafting my book. I continue going to a chiropractor twice weekly to treat a degenerated disk in my lower back, largely a result of hunching over a desk for 12 years, reading and re-reading letters and books and articles and editing hundreds of pages of transcripts from interviews. I routinely got overwhelmed by the massive amount of territory I felt I needed to cover, and had panic attacks regularly. There were many days that I sat in a library for six hours without eating more than a granola bar. I’d calm myself down with the mantra “all you can do is your best.”
I’m a perfectionist, yet I’ve come to understand that perfection only dulls our sharpest blades the more we try to achieve it. In my attempt at perfection, I physically hurt myself in ways I’m still trying to heal…but you can’t see that part when you hold the book in your hands. You see a pretty turquoise cover encapsulating nice, neat stories and lovely images.
Writing a book was a painful process, but I hope some beauty came of it. The story still enchants me. And if my family could dedicate their lives to building a store for 150 years, a degenerated disk and some residual anxiety seems like a small price to pay to tell their extraordinary story.
Finding Thalhimers 
Clarity–a beautiful word, a wondrous gift. I know Quakers respect it; I’m sure Rabbis and Buddhist teachers do, too. This tribute is such bone-honest writing, Elizabeth. Thank you. Lovely analogy with the ballerinas. I never thought of my lower back like that. Love, Charlotte
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Bone-honest…I like that, Charlotte. Thank you. This was a hard post for me to share.
I can’t thank you enough for sharing so much of yourself, your families history and bringing this beloved store back to life.
Many of my childhood memories are wrapped up with your store. Christmas became a magical thing to look forward to each year even long after the illusions of Santa and his elves were shattered. I could always depend on Thalhimers to bring my old friends back to life for a visit as I pretended it was just the Tea Room that I wanted to visit.
My step mother worked as a secretary there for years. I can close my eyes and still smell the perfumes scenting the air as you stepped through the doors. I use to love meeting her there after work, walking through the isles of sparkling necklaces, elegant gloves, and lacy mysteries only grown women knew the secrets of. I always got that same feeling watching my mother dress for some formal night on the town. Layers of beautiful things being applied, that transformed her into a princess. All of them from your store.
I live in the Virgin Islands now. Far removed from places that create that particular brand of magic. But now, just as I visited my old friends at Christmas I have you to post one of your wonderful stories. You bring all the old memories flooding back. The sights, the scents the magic that Thalhimers was and always will be for so many.
Your words mean so much to me, Harriet! Thanks for taking the time to write all the way from the Virgin Islands. I will try to post a special blog post at Christmastime remembering the sights and sounds of the holidays at Thalhimers in years past!
Thalhimers was a place I loved ,A place I could take my children to at christmas time to see santa & the beautiful window decorations. I also loved the bakery I would love to get a copy of there 6 layer cake with chocolate icing m. walton
Thanks for sharing your warm memories, Martha! If you’re in Richmond, there is still a bakery in town that makes the 6-layer chocolate cake. It’s called Michaela’s Quality Bakeshop and is on Brookland Park Boulevard. It brings back yummy memories!
Thank you so much for sharing I went to Thalhimers with my Aunt and Mother shopping, enjoying the tea room and of course Santa . Thalhimers is where I saw my first Santa Claus, and all of the Christmas decorations, I have such great memories and also of riding the street car from Hull St. to Broad St. Richmond,Va. to get there. Those were the wonderful years. Again Thanks and God Bless You. Joyce Rudd Taffer 11/3/16
Joyce, thanks for taking the time to write! I wish I could have taken a streetcar to Thalhimers, but I was born a little too late for that. Best wishes to you!
I had an Uncle that was a Manager for Thalimers for many years. He recently passed and cleaning out some of his stuff I came across a really nice wooden Thalimers box that apparently once held “Old Virginia Ham”. It is in excellent condition. We also have a .38 Special Revolver that was owned and used by the Securtiy Guards from Thalhimer and it has Thalhimer stamped on the side of it. It is still in the original leather holster. We even have the Thalhimer receipt where he bought it fromt he store.
As an advertising copywriter for Thalhimers, I got to see much behind-the-scenes that others did not see until much later. Would love to see you focus another book on the advertising (both print and broadcast) done by the store. Many of us are still out here. Appreciate all your efforts.
I am loving this site! My great aunt Anna Belle Beasley worked at Thalhimers for decades. I still have the Omega watch she was given for her 50th anniversary there in 1972. I can only imagine all the changes she saw.