Carriage Trade: A Novel

Prologue

From The New York Times, August 12, 1991:

SILAS TARKINGTON, LEGENDARY RETAILING TYCOON, IS DEAD

Founder, Head of Tarkington’s 5th Ave.

He was to retailing as Carnegie was to steel, Ford to automobiles, Luce to publishing and Ruth to baseball. So said former New York City Mayor Edward Koch when notified of his old friend’s sudden death. His death not only constitutes a deep personal loss, the former mayor added, it is a great loss to the City of New York and to the nation. He was Silas Rogers Tarkington, legendary founder and chief executive officer of Tarkington’s, the famed Fifth Avenue specialty store that bears his name.

Death came to the tycoon on Saturday at his country estate, Flying Horse Farm, in Old Westbury, L.I., while swimming laps in his pool. When Mr. Tarkington failed to join his wife for lunch, she went to search for him in the pool area and found him floating face downward in the water. The family physician, Dr. Henry J. Arnstein, who flew immediately to the scene by private helicopter from his office in Manhattan, pronounced death by myocardial infarction resulting from coronary occlusion. Mr. Tarkington, a trim and athletic-looking man, though small in stature, had no previous history of heart illness. But these things can catch up with a man without warning, Dr. Arnstein said. He’d obviously been pushing himself harder than any of us realized.

An Innovative Merchant

Tarkington’s became the favorite New York store of fashionable women around the world as a result of a number of merchandising innovations, most of them the result of the founder’s lively imagination and retailing savvy. For instance, never in its history has Tarkington’s had a sale or offered any merchandise that was marked down in price. My kind of woman—a phrase Mr. Tarkington often used—is not interested in looking at merchandise that has been rejected by her peers, no matter how reduced the price, he said. As a result of this philosophy, it is the store’s policy to keep no item in its inventory longer than three months. After that period, unsold merchandise, whether a $100,000 sable coat or a $100 pair of gloves, is stripped of its prestigious Tarkington’s label and offered for resale to discount outlets around the country, usually at considerable financial loss to the store. At the same time, the Tarkington’s shopper has always known that the goods she is buying are on the cutting edge of current high fashion.

My land of woman would not be pleased to buy an $800 pair of Maud Frizon shoes in May and come back in October and see the same shoes marked down to $450, Mr. Tarkington said.

You would be astonished to learn how many retailers—and I mean highly respected retailers—offer sales and markdowns that are completely phony, he once told a group of Harvard Business School undergraduates in a retailing seminar. Why do so many retailers use the words ‘regularly’ and ‘usually’ on price tags for marked-down merchandise? Simply because if they said ‘formerly’ or ‘was,’ they’d be lying. ‘Regularly’ and ‘usually’ are used to skirt around truth-in-advertising regulations. Beware also of merchandise tagged ‘special price.’ There is nothing special about the price, except that this is the price the retailer hopes to sell the item for. Every day in my newspaper, I see retail advertisements that use the phrase, You’d expect to pay. ‘You’d expect to pay $300 for a thingamabob like this.’ The words are meaningless and should fool no one, but many people are nonetheless taken in by this method of creating a fictitious comparative price.

Distinctive Advertising

As a part of its unique retailing philosophy, Tarkington’s has never advertised a specific item. Instead, the store’s small, discreet notices in newspapers like The Times and select fashion and shelter magazines say only Tarkington’s, Fifth Avenue, thereby steadily reinforcing the store’s image of quality, costliness and high fashion for a select and wealthy clientele. It is typical of Tarkington’s lofty approach to merchandising that when, during her 1972 state visit to New York, Queen Elizabeth II announced that the only retail establishment she wished to visit was Tarkington’s, the store refused to capitalize on the publicity generated by the royal shopper. Instead, the store referred all inquiries about the Queen’s visit to Buckingham Palace.

Generous Credit Policy

At the same time, Tarkington’s has long been known for its generous credit policy. Rich people always pay their bills, Mr. Tarkington said. They may pay them more slowly than other people, but that is perfectly all right with us. My kind of woman travels extensively; she has homes throughout the world. She is not the sort of woman who sits down at her desk once a month and writes out checks. It’s simply more convenient for her to do this once a year, or every two years, and our job is to cater to her convenience.

As a result, when, in the 1960’s, retail stores began routinely adding finance charges to all accounts unpaid within 30 days, Mr. Tarkington refused to join this trend. My kind of woman would be insulted if I ever tacked a finance charge on her bill, he once said. I am in the business of serving clients, most of whom are also my friends. I am not in the habit of insulting my friends.

For most of its history, Tarkington’s neither issued nor accepted a credit card. A customer’s signature on a sales slip was sufficient. Then, in 1985, the store began issuing credit cards to customers who spent more than $10,000 annually in the store. These distinctive blue-and-pink cards have become something of an American status symbol—women have been known to place them conspicuously in their wallets and billfolds—and a woman with a Tarkington’s card has no trouble establishing credit anywhere in the world.

In this way Silas Tarkington built a reputation for his store, and made himself a very rich man, by catering to the very rich. At the same time, he never made public the names of his famous clientele. Unlike other upscale retailers, such as Bijan and Giorgio, the walls of whose establishments are scattered with affectionately signed photographs of celebrity customers, Mr. Tarkington’s office in the store contained only one photograph—of his wife. But the caliber of Tarkington’s shoppers could be judged by the sight of Mrs. C. V. Whitney, Jacqueline Onassis, or Brooke Astor stepping out of a limousine and being escorted into the store by James, Tarkington’s longtime doorman.

Not Without His Critics

Such personalized and idiosyncratic storekeeping earned Silas Tarkington his share of critics, however. The so-called Tarkington philosophy is nothing but a gimmick, said a Fifth Avenue retailer who asked not to be identified. It’s a gimmick to get women to buy on the basis of cost, not on the basis of quality or brand name. Since a lot of his suppliers, both on Seventh Avenue and in Europe, create special lines just for Si Tarkington, he gets his so-called ‘Ours Alone’ label. It’s impossible to tell what his markup is, though I’m sure it’s more than the normal 50 to 60 percent. I’ve seen merchandise in his store that seemed to me ridiculously overpriced. But he’s created this mythical aura that if it’s from Tarkington’s it’s got to be the best, and his customers have fallen for it. He’s made it chic for a woman to be ripped off. It’s a gimmick that worked in the spendthrift 80’s, but it will be interesting to see how it works in the belt-tightening 90’s. Also, it will be interesting to see what happens now that Si is gone.

Indeed, there is already much speculation in the fashion industry as to who will succeed the founder. "He was the store," one longtime employee told The Times today. Nobody could do the things he did. His personal touch was everywhere. Often cited was his habit of telephoning favorite customers to say, Darling, I have something new in from Paris that I want you to be absolutely the first to see. There were customers who insisted on being waited on by Mr. Tarkington personally and would accept help from no other salesperson. Though the store never opened in the evenings, closing its doors promptly at 5 P.M., an hour earlier than most New York retail establishments, favored customers were given special keys so they could enter the store after hours and shop undisturbed. The late Greta Garbo was known to do this; Miss Garbo was often seen leaving Tarkington’s late at night with an armload of garments to try on at home. Those she decided against were picked up by a store messenger the following morning. The store received some unwanted publicity in 1987 when the Daily News reported that Miami socialite Mrs. Curtis LeMosney returned a $15,000 ball gown to Tarkington’s a full two years after she had purchased it, demanding a refund. Mrs. LeMosney received credit for the cost of the gown.

Specially favored female customers were also invited to use Tarkington’s sumptuously decorated fitting and dressing rooms to change clothes for dinner and the theater. In these dressing rooms, cocktails and light snacks were served by a maid in a black uniform with white apron and cap. How many of these small personal touches will be retained by whoever succeeds Mr. Tarkington is a much-discussed question. It has long been assumed that Mr. Tarkington’s hand-picked successor was Thomas E. Bonham III, the store’s executive vice president and general manager, who has been with the company since 1970. Mr. Bonham, 44, a neighbor of the Tarkingtons on Long Island, reached at his home, was asked whether he would be Tarkington’s next president. That’s an inappropriate question at this time, Mr. Bonham told The Times. No one can replace Si Tarkington. Mr. Bonham declined further comment, beyond adding that the store will be closed today in the founder’s honor.

Last of the Dinosaurs

Others emphasized the unique role that Silas Tarkington played in New York retailing. He was the last of the dinosaurs, said Eliza McCamber, president of the New York Fashion Group. In my lifetime, I’ve seen the demise of any number of great specialty and department stores. Altman’s is gone, Bonwit’s is gone, Best’s is gone, DePinna and Arnold Constable and Franklin Simon are all gone. I can remember when the Gimbel family owned Gimbels, the Strauses owned Macy’s, and Andrew Goodman owned Bergdorf-Goodman. Now they’re all parts of chains and not nearly as good as they once were. The personal touch is missing. And Saks, which was also run by the Gimbel family, now belongs to the Sultan of Dubai!

Adding to the feeling that Tarkington’s was run as a kind of paternalistic oligarchy was the fact that, in addition to their Long Island home, Mr. Tarkington and his wife maintained a 22-room duplex apartment on the top two floors of the Fifth Avenue store. Because New York building codes prohibit anyone other than a janitor to live in a building where dressmaking or manufacturing takes place, Mr. Tarkington and his wife are listed in the city registry as janitor and janitress. It made it such a cozy place to work, said one longtime employee, with the boss and his wife living over the store.

Mysterious Origins

And yet, for all his fame and fortune, Silas Tarkington remained an elusive, even mysterious figure. Very little about his actual origins is known. In 1956 he seemed to appear from nowhere, full-blown, on the New York fashion scene. That was the year when, using capital from an unknown source, Silas Tarkington purchased the old Truxton S. Van Degan mansion on Fifth Avenue and 59th Street, which was about to be razed. Initially, Mr. Tarkington used the various rooms in the mansion to lease small boutiques to other fashion retailers, retaining only the former foyer of the house for his own operations. Then, gradually, he took over these leases. Even today, the store’s floor plan creates the feeling of walking from one small boutique to another.

In 1967, needing more selling space, Mr. Tarkington added considerably to his store by building an L-shaped addition to the mansion’s northeast corner, an area that had originally contained the Van Degans’ carriage house and gardens. This move aroused the ire of preservationists, who argued that the addition destroyed the mansion’s setting and scale. However, since the mansion had never been given Landmark status, Mr. Tarkington was able to proceed with his plan.

He was the most gracious and charming of men, said a former associate who asked not to be identified, but at the same time he was a man of mystery. He never talked about his youth or early days. That was part of his fascination. Not even Mr. Tarkington’s exact age at the time of his death is known, though he was assumed to be in his early to mid 70’s. He studiously avoided the press and successfully resisted the efforts of a number of would-be biographers, sticking only to the scanty facts published in his company’s 1975 official corporate history.

That corporate history, Only the Best, omits the founder’s date and place of birth, his parents’ names, and other vital statistics. The corporate history merely speaks of the founder’s Horatio Alger-like rise from poverty to fame and fortune.

Because so few hard facts are known, gossip and rumors about the man behind the facade have proliferated over the years. It has been said, for instance, that Silas Tarkington was not his original name. It has also been rumored that at some point in his career he had underworld connections, but no proof has been offered to back these allegations.

An Aloof Executive

As an executive, Mr. Tarkington was so aloof as to be almost invisible at times, making his presence known only through terse memoranda. He was always very courtly and attentive with his special lady clients—and we were always to call them ‘clients,’ never ‘customers’, said Mrs. Estelle Winfield, a longtime Tarkington’s salesperson, "but when he walked through the store there was never much more than a polite nod to any of us. His office door was usually closed, and often no one was sure whether he was in there or not. Or we’d think he was there, and we’d find out he was actually in Paris or Rome or Tokyo, scouting new designers. One day he suddenly appeared with an armload of the most beautiful hand-knit sweaters I’d ever seen and plopped them on my counter. ‘Where did these come from, Mr. Si?’ I asked him. ‘I brought them back with me from New Zealand last night,’ he said. New Zealand! We didn’t even know he’d been out of town.

And the apartment! That was a really mysterious place. None of us was ever invited up there. I don’t think even Mr. Bonham was ever there. The apartment was kind of a secret, sacred place, just for Mr. and Mrs. Tarkington.

A Shy Man

I think my father was essentially a shy man, his daughter, Miranda, 24, told The Times today. I think he enjoyed the perks that went with being rich and powerful, and having rich and powerful clients, but he never got used to being in the limelight. He hated it when flashbulbs went off.

Indeed, Mr. Tarkington was famously averse to being photographed. Though he often spoke in public, he did so only after being assured that no cameras would be allowed in the room. And when he and his wife appeared at social functions and cameras appeared, he frequently nudged his somewhat taller wife to the front, saying, Photograph her, she’s the beautiful one, not me. He once declared, I see no value in personal publicity, and for news stories concerning him he usually insisted that one of a series of official photographs, taken in 1970, be used, rather than anything more recent. Similarly, Mr. Tarkington refused to be listed in Who’s Who in America or other biographical volumes.

The Perfect Wife

Mrs. Tarkington was considered the perfect wife for a man in her husband’s business. She is the former Consuelo Banning, one of a trio of sisters whom the press dubbed The Beauteous Bannings, and who were belles of the Philadelphia social scene in the 1960’s. The Banning sisters, Consuelo, Katharine and Lucinda, were the daughters of George F. Banning, a socially prominent Philadelphia attorney, and all three made socially auspicious marriages: Katharine to Andrew W. Mellon III; Lucinda to Nicholas de N. du Pont; and Consuelo, the youngest, to Mr. Tarkington.

With her porcelain skin, blond hair, pale blue eyes and model’s size 8 figure, she became an ideal showcase for the designer fashions sold in her husband’s store, and for a number of years her name has appeared high on lists of the world’s best-dressed women. She has toiled for prominent charities, is a highly visible figure at New York’s most fashionable restaurants, and when designers show their collections Mrs. Tarkington is always seated front and center.

She’s Tarkington’s merchandise personified, says a friend who insisted on anonymity. And having all those Mellons and du Ponts as in-laws didn’t hurt Si’s business either, in terms of attracting the kind of customers he wanted.

Mrs. Tarkington was in seclusion today and could not be reached for comment.

A Regal Life Style

Mr. and Mrs. Tarkington enjoyed a regal life style. In addition to Flying Horse Farm in Old Westbury and the New York apartment, the couple maintained homes in Lake Sunapee, N.H., and Palm Beach, Fla., and a pied-à-terre on the avenue Foch in Paris. Whenever Mr. Tarkington and his wife appeared in public, Mr. Tarkington, a man with an erect carriage and a full head of silvery hair, was always immaculately groomed and impeccably tailored.

Whatever his detractors may say about him, few would disagree that Silas Tarkington created and leaves behind him a retail establishment that is perhaps unique. In 1990 Mr. Tarkington received the Merchant of the Year award from the New York Retailers Association. In 1987 he received a special award from the Fifth Avenue Association for having done the most to maintain the tone of the street. Past recipients have been Pierre Cartier II, Dr. Aldo Gucci and Harry Winston.

Mr. Tarkington’s interests, other than his company, included racehorses, which he bred and raced in Britain, Ireland and France. Though he declined to race any of his horses in the United States, one of his stallions, Flying Flame, won the Arc de Triomphe in Paris in 1971 and went on to win other important purses before being put out to stud in 1975. Flying Horse Farm, the Tarkington estate on Long Island, was named for this stallion.

Mr. Tarkington also amassed an important collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist paintings. It has long been understood that the Tarkington collection will be left to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. That has been our informal understanding, Philippe de Montebello, the museum’s director, told The Times. But we shall have to see the terms of the will before we know whether the gift is a fact.