Killian's When Shopping Downton Felt Like An Experience

 

Before malls came along and pulled everything under one roof, you went downtown. Not once in a while. All the time. And if you were in Cedar Rapids, Killian’s was part of that trip whether or not you planned it.

You didn’t walk in thinking, “I need to buy something.” You walked in because it was there. Because everyone went in, and it felt like something was happening inside.

Enormous doors. That blast of cooler air in the summer. That department store smell—clothes, perfume, candy, all mixed together.

And if you were a kid, you weren’t thinking about shopping. You were heading straight for the escalator.

Up. Down. Up again. No reason. Nobody stopped you unless you got stupid about it. Same deal with the elevators. Half the fun was just riding them. If there was an operator in there, even better. It felt like you were getting away with something.

Then there was the candy counter. That’s where Killian’s got weird.

Chocolate-covered ants. Grasshoppers. Stuff that made no sense. You’d stand there staring at it, trying to decide if it was real. Then somebody would dare you to try one.

Most of the time, it tasted like chocolate. But that didn’t matter. You went home and told people you ate a bug. It made you sound sort of crazy, or— it definitely made you stand out.

Killian’s had been around since 1911, sitting right in the middle of downtown. Back then, department stores weren’t just stores. They were the place. You needed something, you went there. Clothes, dishes, gifts, whatever. It was all under one roof, and it felt like a big deal.

People didn’t rush through. You made a day out of downtown. Walk a few blocks. Stop here, stop there. Run into people you knew. End up in Killian’s for longer than you meant to.

Around Christmas, it was packed.

The windows alone slowed you down. You’d stand there on the sidewalk looking in like it was a show. Inside was even better. Decorations everywhere. It felt loud, but good.

They had a talking Christmas tree. “Mary Christmas.” Sounds ridiculous now, but at the time nobody questioned it. You just accepted that a department store tree could talk and moved on.

Killian’s branched out. They opened a store in Iowa City. Then at Lindale Mall in 1960. Killian’s was the anchor. It was a big step forward.

It was also the beginning of the shift. Because once people got used to the mall, downtown felt like work.

Parking turned into a hassle. Walking block to block got old. The mall had everything right there, out of the weather, easy in and out.

You didn’t notice it right away. Nobody did.You just went downtown a little less. Then a little less than that.

Killian’s tried to keep up. The mall store helped for a while. But the downtown one—the one people actually remembered—felt different. Quieter. Not dead, but not what it used to be.

By the late ’70s, it wasn’t hard to see where things were headed.

Then in 1982, it was over. Seventy years, gone just like that.

Another store moved in, but it wasn’t Killian’s. Because Killian’s wasn’t just about buying something.

It was riding the escalator for no reason. Standing at the candy counter, trying to talk yourself into eating a grasshopper. Killing time without thinking about it. Wandering around because you could.

If you went back now, it probably wouldn’t feel the same. That’s how those places work. They don’t exist anymore except the way you remember them.