Stanley Marcus:  Good Taste 

How can you wear that Cravat? Renoir said to Cezanne.

Can't you see that it's in bad taste?

Cezanne responded, If it were in bad taste, I wouldn't be wearing it.

            For years, Stanley Marcus and his father, uncle and aunt before him, dictated the taste of Dallas and a good part of the civilized world by setting an example through their famous store, Neiman-Marcus.

            In fact, Mr. Marcus, who was called Mr. Stanley by most people, wrote several books on the subject, including Minding the Store and Quest for the Best.  Both are still available in excellent but used condition at Half-Price Books and Amazon.  Both are books everyone should study.

            In Dallas, at least, the number of merchants and professionals who put the practice of good taste in a place of honor in their business lives has dramatically dwindled.    Even Mr. Stanley's legacy, his beloved Neiman-Marcus, has begun a noticeable slip.  At one of its stores, for an example, the water fountain that's near the manager's office hangs from the wall cock-eyed.  And it has for a long time.  The manager either doesn't notice, or doesn't know or care that it's sending a poor messasge to customers.  Mr. Stanley wouldn't be pleased.

            So the question is this:  After the wardrobe, Lexus and face lift, and the membership in the "right" church and clubs, and the paid-for pronouncement by a social magazine that he or she is the number one Realtor, is that real estate agent really a minder of good taste and honorable professionalism?

            How would Mr. Stanley review them if he were here?  Would he choose them to represent him?  Would their company's For Sale sign be done with such tasteful graphics and size that Mr. Stanley would allow them to place one in his yard?  How about the mail-outs and ads?  And what about their company's public image overall?

            Although I'm sure there are many more that easily integrate with Mr. Stanley's taste and service formula, I point out four here in Dallas:  Jackson's Home and Garden on Lemmon Avenue, any of the Sewell automobile dealerships, Old Warsaw Restaurant on Maple...

            And the forth is Bill Cherry, Realtors, where we still wear suits and ties, drive clean, waxed cars, hand write notes to clients, friends and prospects, and conduct ourselves as ladies and gentlemen. 

            And we treat our clients' homes the same as we treat the fine Waterford and Wedgewood that are in our homes --carefully and with great love, admiration and appreciation.   It makes a difference.

            Finally, I would like to share with you my story about Mr. Stanley.

Stanley Marcus

By Bill Cherry

Dallas Realtor-Broker

My 43rd Year Selling Texas

Meet me on the web at www.billcherrybroker.com

            Enjoying lunch with my wife just before last Christmas at Neiman-Marcus's Zodiac Room, I smiled and thought about the world anomaly Stanley Marcus. 

            When Neiman's opened its NorthPark store in 1965, it ran an ad offering Gant button down oxford shirts for $6.00.

             I was a University of North Texas graduate student on a tight budget, so up until then I had not been able to justify buying a Gant shirt.  But for six bucks, I decided I could.

            So after class my girlfriend and I drove over to Dallas from nearby Denton to buy that one Gant shirt. 

            We located the store's haberdashery.  I told the saleslady that I wanted one Gant blue oxford cloth shirt. 

            "We only sell them by the box of ten." 

            "Your ad in the Morning News advertises one for six dollars."

             "Nope, you'll have to buy a box."

            We left and found the store's office.  A fellow introduced himself as Stanley Marcus, and asked what he could do to help us.  I told him the story, and he said, "Do you have a few more minutes?"  We went downstairs to the haberdashery and he said to the saleslady, "Mrs. Golden, my friends were just telling me that they couldn't buy one of the Gant shirts that we have on sale." 

            "That's right, Mr. Stanley, we only sell them by the box."

            "No, we sell single shirts."

            "You're mistaken, Mr. Stanley."

            "Mrs. Golden, our store is named Neiman-Marcus, not Neiman-Marcus-Golden.  Please wrap-up Mr. Cherry's shirt." 

            Move time forward twenty years.  I was visiting my business partner in Santa Fe.  He and his wife had just put their home on the market, and the Realtor called to say that she was bringing Mr. Marcus by.  As soon as he walked in and saw me, he said, "Mr. Cherry, so good to see you again," and then he told everyone the Gant shirt story. 

            Move the timeframe forward another few years.  I was sitting at a table at the atrium of the old Saks Center in Houston waiting for my lunch.  I looked across the room.  There was Mr. Marcus sitting with another gentleman.

            Then Mr. Marcus' order number was called, and he got up to get it.  As he turned around, he spotted me, walked across the room tray in hand, and said, "Mr. Cherry, I'm so glad to see you.  Are you eating alone?"  I told him I was. He asked me to join him and his friend.

            As soon as he introduced me, he recounted the story about the Gant shirt, and then elaborated about how important it is to make sure employees are always properly representing the store.

            Those three times were the only three times Mr. Marcus and I ever saw each other.  I had gone from a 25-year old to at least a 45, maybe a 50-year old.  Not only had I changed in appearance, but Mr. Marcus had seen and met probably thousands since.

            So when someone says to me that Stanley Marcus was one of a kind, I don't argue.

            I am convinced there are some people who just aren't like the rest of us, and no amount of work on our part will ever bring us to their level.  Mr. Marcus was one of them, but nevertheless, we should try our best to rise to his standards.

                                                      Copyright 2006 - William S. Cherry

All rights reserved