Written by Bobby Sloan, 2021

During the mid-sixties, my Mom and Aunt Cissie purchased an old, three-story Victorian house at 1763 East Main and turned it into an interior design shop called “The House on Main Street.” The house was adorned with steep gable roofs, a small tower, and ornate woodwork. When customers walked through the charming entryway, a bell rang, letting the staff know someone was there to look around.

The first floor included a living room and dining room filled with beautiful furniture, lamps, and accessories. A design studio was located in the kitchen, and shelves were lined with gifts for sale. All the rooms on the second floor were painted a different color, and bric-a-brac could be seen everywhere. The bedrooms had four-poster beds that were crammed with decorative pillows. Sale items could be found on beds, in dresser draws, on the floor, or hanging from the ceiling. A large stuffed lady-of-the-night sat in a claw footed tub filled with soaps and sponges in the bathroom. Lawn furnishings and a heavenly host of angel-clad water fountains and birdbaths could be found in the backyard.

Most of the action and business took place in the kitchen, also set up as their office. The fun started in the morning when my aunt Myrtle dropped off her home-baked mandel bread cookies (similar to biscotti). When working in the basement, I sometimes heard the staff cracking up as they threw the cookies in the trash. Myrtle never understood how they disappeared so quickly but took it as a compliment.

The store’s inventory came from the Merchandise Mart in Chicago, where my parents went twice a year to buy furniture and unique accessories. Occasionally, they brought back some new friends, usually funny drinking buddies they met at the market. Some items never sold, like the pair of male and female figurines in high society dress. There they were, four feet tall, all dressed up, and nowhere to go. The lady figure finally ended up at our house.

Mom ran the show at The House on Main, and she was good! I was impressed with her business acumen and work ethic. She was a magnet, and all the local interior decorators dropped in throughout the day to discuss the town’s rich and famous. Being designers allowed them access to all the great homes, along with all the great gossip. The running gag was how squeaky-cheap all the rich folks were.

I got Mom to take me inside the Governor’s Mansion. She also took me inside the biggest home in Bexley, the Elman House in North Bexley. There were many pats-on-the-back at the shop after both houses were redecorated and completed. The real hero was the shop’s interior designer, Bill Akin, Mom’s guru and probably her closest friend. Almost every night, Bill came over to our house to see Mom, shoot the breeze, and laugh about the day.

Christmas was a huge event at the House on Main, and the annual party was not to be missed. All kinds of characters came to share in the celebration. There were tons of Christmas ornaments and ornate pictures with fancy frames hanging from every square inch of the house. Mom let me shop for all my Christmas gifts in the basement for FREE! She taught me how to wrap the gifts with the signature House on Main gift wrap - red flocked paper pulled from huge rolls. My sister Suzy and cousin Steffi helped out during Christmas and summer vacations.

My basement job included tagging and shelving merchandise. Mom would run downstairs twenty times a day to take items off the shelves or teach me how to manage the inventory. Every once in a while she’d let me select a few things from the basement inventory that I could keep. She would say, “Honey, you can keep some of those things but not ALL of them.”

My favorite memories were Mom’s trips to the basement. Like a match struck in a dark room, everything got brighter whenever I heard the sound of her high heels descending the staircase. She’d say something sweet, grab an item from one of the many shelves, and head back up the stairs. I loved working quietly in the corner and watching her every move.