Marshall Field’s Christmas: When Going Downtown Was the Holiday Tradition

A Chicago Christmas story about good coats, great windows, and one very famous tree

There was a time when going downtown to look at Christmas windows was an event.

You put on your good coat. Maybe your good shoes, although you'd regret those later.

You weren't necessarily going shopping. You were going to see Christmas. And in Chicago, that meant State Street and a Marshall Field’s Christmas.

Meet Me at Marshall Field's

Picture a December afternoon in Chicago, sometime in the 1960s.

The sidewalks are crowded. The wind is coming off Lake Michigan, and you've realized quickly that your good coat isn't quite as warm as you thought.

Families are making their way down State Street, stopping in front of the enormous windows at Marshall Field's.

Children press close to the glass.

Inside, miniature worlds come to life.

Tiny figures move through snowy villages. Toy trains wind around little landscapes. Elaborate scenes unfold behind the glass.

And just when you think you've seen the whole story, there's another window.

So everyone moves a few feet down the sidewalk. Then another. And another. You might have been cold. You might have been tired. But you weren't leaving until you'd seen every single one. Because the windows weren't just decorated for Christmas. They were telling a story.

The Marshall Field’s Christmas Windows

Marshall Field's had been drawing people downtown long before Christmas became its signature season. The grand State Street store was an experience in itself. Beautiful architecture. Elaborate displays. Restaurants. An enormous selection of things to browse. You could spend hours inside. And people did.

But the Christmas windows were something special. The tradition began in 1897, when the store created elaborate holiday toy displays. At first, the windows showed off merchandise.

Which makes sense. It was a department store, after all.

Then, in 1944, something changed. Instead of simply arranging toys and gifts, the designers created a series of windows telling the story of The Night Before Christmas. Each window was another chapter.

People weren't just looking at things they might buy. They were following a story.

And they wanted to see how it ended. For generations of Chicago families, a Marshall Field’s Christmas meant walking along those windows.

A Little Discovery: Chicago Had Its Own Christmas Celebrity

Everyone knows Rudolph. But did you know Chicago had Uncle Mistletoe?

In 1939, Montgomery Ward, another Chicago department store, introduced Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

Marshall Field's wasn't about to let its competition have all the Christmas fun. So in 1946, the store introduced Uncle Mistletoe. He wore a red coat and a black top hat, had little white wings, and traveled around spreading Christmas kindness. Eventually, Aunt Holly joined him.

There were books, ornaments, dolls, and other holiday keepsakes. Uncle Mistletoe even had his own television show. Imagine that. Two Chicago department stores competing for Christmas, and the rest of us ended up with Rudolph and Uncle Mistletoe. Not a bad outcome.

Upstairs, the Walnut Room and the Great Tree

Now, let's go inside. You've been standing out in the cold long enough.

The doors open, and you're surrounded by Christmas decorations, shoppers carrying packages, and the bustle of a department store in December.

There's a familiar scent drifting from the restaurant upstairs. But first, there's something everyone wants to see. The Great Tree.

High above the tables in the Walnut Room stands an enormous Christmas tree, decorated from top to bottom. And beneath it, families are having lunch.

The Walnut Room opened in 1907, originally as the South Grill Room, and eventually took its name from the beautiful walnut paneling. That same year, employees put up a small Christmas tree. It didn't stay small for long.

Over the decades, the Great Tree became the heart of a Marshall Field’s Christmas. At one point, it reached an astonishing 45 feet tall. Imagine being a child walking into that room for the first time. You look up. And keep looking. And keep looking.

And Then There's the Chicken Pot Pie

Of course, we can't visit the Walnut Room without talking about lunch. Because long before anyone was photographing their food, people were making a special trip downtown for Mrs. Hering's Chicken Pot Pie.

The story goes back to 1890 when Sarah Hering, a Marshall Field's employee, shared her homemade chicken pot pie, and the dish eventually became a signature of the store's dining rooms.

Golden pastry. Creamy filling. A proper sit-down lunch. Exactly the sort of thing you'd want after spending the morning walking through a Chicago winter.

And for many families, eating in the Walnut Room was just as important as seeing the windows. Some came every year. The children grew up. Then they brought their own children. And eventually, those children brought theirs.

A department store restaurant became part of a family's Christmas story. All because somebody once decided that shopping would be nicer if you could sit down and have something good to eat. I'd say they were onto something.

The Little Things You Remember About a Marshall Field’s Christmas

Maybe it wasn't the tree you remember most. Maybe it was the green Marshall Field's shopping bags. Or the Frango Mints. Or standing beneath one of the famous clocks outside the store, waiting for everyone to catch up.

Maybe it was the moment you finally got warm. Or the way the whole family dressed up for an outing that didn't necessarily involve buying anything.

There were other stops, of course. Other stores. Other windows. A restaurant or coffee shop along the way. Maybe a little extra time downtown because nobody was ready to go home.

And that's the part I keep coming back to. The outing itself was the tradition. Not everything had to be purchased, scheduled, or accomplished.

You went downtown. You looked around. You ate something good. You went home with a story.

What Happened to Marshall Field's?

In 2006, the Marshall Field's name disappeared from the State Street store when it became Macy's. For many Chicagoans, that was more than a change of signage. A Marshall Field’s Christmas had been part of their family traditions for generations. The green bags, the clocks, the windows, the Walnut Room. They were all tied to memories.

But some of the most beloved holiday traditions continued. The building is still there.

The famous clocks still stand outside. The Walnut Room remains part of the store and in 2025, after nearly twenty years, the name came back. It’s officially The Marshall Field’s Walnut Room again. And the Great Tree and holiday windows continue to welcome visitors during the Christmas season.

It's not exactly the same as it was. But then again, neither are we. And perhaps that's why places like this mean so much.

They remind us of the people we went with, the things we looked forward to, and the little traditions we didn't realize we were making at the time.

Bring a Holiday State of Mind Home

Here's the wonderful thing about Chicago's Christmas tradition. You don't have to live in Chicago to borrow the idea. And you certainly don't need a department store with a 45-foot Christmas tree.

Go downtown just because it's Christmas. Find a Main Street, town square, or neighborhood that decorates for the season. Walk around without making shopping the main event.

Make one stop part of the tradition. A favorite restaurant, a bakery, a coffee shop, or somewhere that serves a holiday treat you look forward to all year.

Bring someone along. Your family, a friend, or someo okne who hasn't explored your downtown in years. Show them something you remember. Let them show you something you've missed.

And maybe put on your good coat. You can leave the uncomfortable shoes at home. Because the best part of a holiday tradition isn't always the thing you went to see. Sometimes it's the people you went with. And the fact that you went at all.

Where are you taking your loved ones this holiday season to make memories. Tell me in the comments.