By Guest Writer: Nancy Spiegelhoff
1943 – Welcome to the Terrace Room, 5th Floor at Prange’s Department Store in Green Bay, Wisconsin…
A friendly hostess in a tiny, white starched apron and cap approaches us. We are ushered between tables, gracefully draped in long, white cloths. We move to the sound of beautiful music, the gentle clinking of fine silverware, and the low hum of friendly conversation.
For this wide-eyed, 11-year old adolescent, visiting from Racine, it is the start of a Green Bay experience that would remain for 75 years in a precious memory corner of her heart. Mother and I are guests of my quiet well-heeled Aunt Veronica. The total elegance of the Terrace Room environment is vivid to me yet: an array of guests wearing sophisticated hats, large brimmed ones, some feathered, some petite veiled ones, some straw pillbox, perched jauntily atop attractive hairstyles, matching handbags and shoes, stylish jewelry. Gorgeous live models in Prange’s finest fashions weave like liquid-satin between tables, pausing, smiling, posing and pausing again. They leave a lively scent of expensive perfume in their wake. This little girl is transfixed in the thrilling world of a grown-up experience.
2002 – The Terrace Room, 5th Floor at Prange’s…
A fine piece of Green Bay history has come to an end. A business decision has determined that the Terrace Room would be sold. Nothing lasts forever, you know, only dreams and memories. Many good people of Green Bay have come to eat, to say goodbye and reminisce. I am on of them, for, as the world turns, I have been a longtime resident of Green Bay. A rather casual-looking waitress greets me – no sassy, snow-white cap or apron. She leads me between tables set with ordinary place mats. Casual wear is apparent among the guests: t-shirts, baggy pants, jeans, sweatshirts, tennis shoes, play sandals, and colorful baseball caps atop long, straight hair. Backpacks lean here and there – no elite handbags in sight. I order the specialty, Chicken Pot Pie, for the second time in my life. It tastes pretty much the same as I remember, but I don’t feel pretty much the same.
Mother and Aunt Veronica have passed on. Nevertheless, the pleasantries of that long ago visit linger still. Yes, it is nice to be back. Thanks, Terrace Room, for the precious dreams and memories.
