Photo by C.J. Woods, III/Weekly View
Bronze cherub that sits atop the Ayres Clock.

I chatted with a gentleman  viewing the exhibit, who said he still has one of the bandanas that held the peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the Hobo kid’s meal served in the Tea Room. I took my daughter there as a child and she loved digging through the Treasure Chest for a prize. I took my son to Mr. Bunny’s Barnyard with real animals in an exhibit next to the Tea Room — I remember hearing a story about either a piglet or goat getting loose and running through the Tea Room. Another treat is the Ayres Cherub on display for the first time off its usual perch on the Ayres Clock. It first appeared mysteriously the day after Thanksgiving in 1947 and stayed up until Christmas (the city owns it now and it still appears every year just like clockwork — pardon the pun). This beautiful three foot bronze statue was created by the late local sculptor David Rubins. I had Mr. Rubins as a History of Sculpture professor back in the late 60s at Herron School of Art (he was director of the sculpture program for 45 years at Herron). Throughout the exhibit, visitors will hear the history of Ayres and its legacy in a series of films and videos playing that include sound bites from former employees and shoppers.
This exhibit is a must-see for all Hoosiers who remember Ayres in all it’s glory. It is open 10-5 Tuesday through Saturday. Admission is free to IHS members, adults $7, seniors $6.50, youth ages 5-17 $5, and children under 5 are free. The exhibit will be on display until August 6, 2016.
On June 17th (6:30-8:30 p.m.), the History Center will host a fashion show highlighting 100 years of fashion trends. Following the show, the audience will be invited to chat with the models to learn more about the decade their clothes come from and “That Ayres Look.” The cost is $5 for members, $8 in advance, $10 at the door. Register at tickets.indianahistory.org.
I not only shopped at Ayres, but I was a layout artist in the advertising department from 1985 until the close in 1992 (helping disassemble the store — I’m the one who took all those beautiful silk ties out of their cubbyholes in the men’s store).  I loved the EOM (End of the Month) Sales and even bought my wedding dress at an EOM sale in 1971. I found it, tried it on and was out of the store in 10 minutes — it was $39.95 marked down from $275 and it was gorgeous — it looked just like Tricia Nixon’s wedding dress (a sleeveless lace flowered bodice with an empire waist).
I attended That Ayres Look opening with several former Ayres employees and good friends including Norma Dollar (who had been a model in the 50s in advertising herself and was there until it closed in 1992) and her husband Virg, C.J. Woods III (our own Words from Woods columnist who was an art director and worked for Ayres from 1986 and went on to St. Louis when May company bought Ayres  in 1992 and only retired a few years ago when Macy’s took over), and Susan Schonfeld (another layout artist in advertising).
There is a wonderful Ayres book L.S. Ayres and Company: The Store at the Crossroads of America by Kenneth L. Turchi that you might want to check out (I bought my copy at Bookmamas, 9 S. Johnson).

My only claim to fame is that I’ve put three downtown department stores out of business. Let me clarify that: of course I didn’t have anything to do with closing them down, but they’re gone, and a part of me has gone with each one of them, especially L. S. Ayres & Co.
Those of us who grew up in Indianapolis remember that going Downtown was a special event, especially at Christmastime, when all the department stores had their windows full of magical, animated displays. I always had to dress up and behave when I had lunch with Mother and Grandma in one of the Tea Rooms.  And Ayres Tea Room, of course, was my favorite because they had special dishes for the children, and a toy chest that held wondrous treasures that I could take home with me. It wasn’t ‘til much later that I learned to love the Chicken Velvet Soup. Yummm!
I graduated from Indiana Central College with a degree in Psychology. After spending a year in a related field, I decided that was not my calling. I’d always had an interest in writing, had worked on my high school and college newspapers, and had been editor of my college yearbook. When I saw a want ad in the paper for an advertising assistant at L. Strauss & Co., I applied for it and was hired. I spent most of the next 20 years as a copywriter in the advertising departments of  Strauss, William. H. Block, and L. S. Ayres.
When I was at Block’s, there was a standard joke: if you got an advertising position at Ayres, you’d died and gone to heaven. I left Block’s to start my family, and when I was ready to go back to work, my former boss at Block’s had moved on to Ayres. He contacted me to say that a copywriter’s position had opened up, and he wanted me to come and apply for it.
At the time, Ayres was still under the direction of one of the “Ayres Heirs,” David Williams. I’ll never forget the winter when it snowed almost every day (very much like our January-February-March of 2014). I drove a Chevette, which I’d named The Silver Bullet. That little car was a trooper; there were many snowy days when I would be one of the few who could get to work.  One of those days ~ after driving for what seemed like hours across the North Pole ~ when I stepped on the elevator, there was Mr. Williams, looking like he had also driven through the morning snow and ice. I apologized to him that I’d come to work late, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.  He sneezed and said, “I’m just grateful you came to work on such a miserable morning.  Thanks for being here.” Not too many CEO’s these days would even talk to one of their worker ants, much less thank her or him for simply showing up for work.
I loved writing copy for the Special Events Department. Among my favorites: the cherub that magically appeared on the Ayres Clock every Thanksgiving Eve, Breakfast with Santa, Breakfast with the Easter Bunny, inviting kids to come face to face with Darth Vader, and announcing the opening of Santaland each year.
I always told my own children that the real Santa Claus was at Ayres ~ all the others were just helpers.  One year, on the day before Thanksgiving, after the Display Department had created Santaland, they invited the advertising staff to come up to the 8th floor and ride the Santaland train. It brought out the kid in all of us, and it seemed as if we were still children who traveled through that sparkling, shining wonderland.  Buying a morsel of Godiva chocolate afterwards (one piece was all the average mortal could afford, even with an employee discount) was a perfect ending for that particular morning.
One of my great disappointments is that I always wanted to be the Story Lady at Christmastime and wear the long red dress with white fur trim.  Alas, my first commitment was to write copy, and Christmas deadlines had to be respected, so there was no time to be the Story Lady.
In 1985, a large, successful, impersonal East Coast conglomerate bought Ayres’ parent company, and we watched, sadly, as everything changed. The merchandise was lesser quality, and there was more of it. Clothing racks were packed so closely that a shoplifter got tangled up in one as he was trying to run out with what he’d taken. While it certainly discouraged shoplifting, it also seemed to discourage shopping.
The highest profit-margin department in the store had been the Crystal Room, which offered women’s expensive designer clothing and provided personalized shopping service. The new owners closed the Crystal Room, under the rationale that Indianapolis didn’t have “that kind of customer.”
When the plans for the Circle Centre Mall began to appear, the new owners decided that Ayres would not be a part of it. Their intention was clear: to close the downtown, flagship store that had been there for over 120 years, a wonderful tradition that had been so much a part of the lives of the people of Indianapolis and those of us who were privileged to work there.
I left in 1987.  The art department made me a huge, poster-sized card, the front of which had a picture they’d taken of me when I dressed as a clown for a special event.  The greeting inside said, “Clare… the only clown in history known to leave the circus to go home.” I’ve recently reconnected with some of my friends from Ayres. And I realize, anew, that it wasn’t “just a job.” It was a place where you were appreciated, where you could make friends with your co-workers, where you were free to be creative and funny, and genuinely care about what you were doing.