BIGMallrat | lost malls, department stores, and Bay Area retail history

Rhodes arrives in California: the 1950s expansion Rhodes began its journey as part of Western Department Stores, which included regional chains like Kahn’s in Oakland and Olds & King in Portland. The flagship Rhodes store opened in Sacramento at Country Club Centre on November 12, 1954, marking the brand’s entry into California retail. The Rhodes flagship store opened in 1954 at Sacramento’s Country Club Centre, marking the brand’s California debut. Throughout the late 1950s, Rhodes expanded steadily. In 1959, the Rhodes Fresno store opened, anchoring Manchester Center. By 1960, Western Department Stores rebranded many of its outlets, including Kahn’s locations, under the Rhodes name, increasing the chain’s presence across the Bay Area. The 1960s: growth and rebranding 1960: Kahn’s Oakland store at 15th and Broadway officially became Rhodes. 1960: Rhodes Concord, formerly Kahn’s at Park N Shop (opened 1957), also switched to the Rhodes brand. 1960: Rhodes Southgate ope...

Before Amazon Prime and fast fashion, there was Weinstock’s—Sacramento’s homegrown department store and the heartbeat of local shopping. For over a century, Weinstock’s wasn’t just a place to buy clothes—it was a Saturday ritual, a bridal registry destination, and a symbol of elegance in everyday life. A Sacramento legacy: from dry goods to department store giant Weinstock’s roots go back to 1874, when founders Harris Weinstock and David Lubin opened a dry goods store in Sacramento under the name Weinstock & Lubin. By the early 20th century, their small shop had grown into a regional powerhouse, anchoring shopping districts throughout Northern California. After Lubin’s death, the store was renamed Weinstock-Lubin & Co., eventually simplified to just Weinstock’s. During the postwar retail boom, Weinstock’s became part of Broadway-Hale Stores, which would later merge into Federated Department Stores, parent company of Macy’s. The Hale’s connection: a brief merger of chains H...

Liberty House of Hawaii—yes, that Liberty House—had a brief, glittery moment in California between 1971 and 1987, all under the ambitious umbrella of the Hawaii-based Amfac corporation. But ask anyone who remembers, and they’ll probably bring up the same thing first: those glass elevators. Not just any elevators, mind you—these had mannequins riding up and down inside them, frozen in time like fashionable ghosts, floating through the atriums like it was totally normal to shop for blouses while being watched by a life-size plastic person in heels. Liberty House’s iconic glass elevators at Eastridge Mall in San Jose featured mannequins riding in endless loops—elegant, eerie, and unforgettable. For me, it was the Snoopy Shop. Tucked inside the Liberty House in Dublin was the stuff of childhood dreams. All I wanted was to convince my mom to buy a tiny outfit for my Snoopy doll—a corduroy jacket, a tennis sweater, anything with that pink-and-gold Liberty House price tag. It wasn’t about t...

Gottschalks always felt like a retail mystery to me—one of those strange blips on the department store timeline. Though the name had long been known in the Central Valley since 1904, it didn’t make its curious debut until 1988 in the Santa Cruz area, then 1989 in the Bay Area. And when it did, it raised a few questions: What is a Gottschalks? How do you even say it? And why does their logo have a daisy on it? Was this a store or a gardening catalog? Naturally, I had to investigate. Their first Bay Area metro store bloomed quietly at Antioch’s Somersville Towne Center—though back then, it was still clinging to the name County East Mall. Freshly remodeled with enough mirrored ceilings to make Narcissus himself swoon, the mall looked ready for a new era. As for the new anchor? Well… meh. It was fine. It had clothes, cosmetics, cookware—but this was 1989, and department stores were already starting to either evolve or unravel. Gottschalks didn’t quite scream “future.” It barely whisp...

You didn’t   shop   at Mervyn’s. You   lived   at Mervyn’s. Okay, maybe not literally—but if you grew up anywhere in the Bay Area from the ’70s to the early 2000s, there’s a good chance your socks, school clothes, and maybe even your prom dress came from that magical beige-toned land of affordable clothes and lite music. It's also pretty likely your first charge card came from Mervyn's, too. A nostalgic look at Mervyn’s before its closure—once a beloved staple of affordable, family-friendly shopping. It’s hard to explain Mervyn’s to someone who didn’t grow up with it. It wasn’t fancy like Macy’s, but it wasn’t all polyester chaos like Kmart either. Mervyn’s was solid. Sensible. Slightly carpet-scented. It was the go-to department store for families who didn’t need glitz—they just needed Levi's, bath towels, and a three-pack of Mervyn's brand underwear. The entrance: doors to another dimension I remember those tinted glass doors so vividly. You’d walk in, and the ai...

Roos Brothers began in 1865 when Adolphe, Hippolyte, and Achille Roos opened their first clothing store in San Francisco. By the early 1900s, the brand expanded to multiple Bay Area cities, becoming retail leaders. In 1957, Roos Brothers was acquired by Edward Gauer, president of Robert S. Atkins Clothing Company. The two brands merged under the name Roos/Atkins. With Gauer at the helm, the chain expanded to 52 upscale stores, specializing in quality tailored and off-the-rack menswear. In 1966, Gauer sold the company to Genesco Inc.— making Roos/Atkins part of a national retail group. August 1966 Oakland Tribune ad showcasing Roos/Atkins with a spotlight on their stylish turtlenecks—classic California fashion for the modern woman. A few Roos/Atkins store locations 22. Roos/Atkins Hillsdale Opened September 27, 1962 at Hillsdale Mall in San Mateo. 23. Roos/Atkins Stevens Creek Plaza Opened on November 14, 1963 at Stevens Creek Plaza in Santa Clara, next to The Emporium. Roos/Atk...

You know what I miss? Emporium-Capwell. Not just for the prices, though I could swear a decent Arrow shirt once cost twelve bucks. No, I miss the whole production. The drama of the escalators, the hush of the fitting rooms, and—oh—the culinary treasure hunt that was the Market on Market downstairs. A trip to “The City” wasn’t complete without ducking into the old Emporium on Market Street. You'd pass under that grand rotunda and feel like royalty. But downstairs? That’s where the real magic happened. Fancy cheeses. Glazed fruit tarts. Baskets of imported crackers with names you couldn’t pronounce but definitely had to try. Everything smelled like international sophistication and fresh bread. I was a kid with a paper bag full of croissants and the feeling that I’d somehow stepped into a European train station from the future. The other day I found an ad from 1984—Emporium-Capwell's big splash at Vallco Fashion Park in Cupertino. You could tell the year by the shoulder pads al...