I remember buying (with my parents’ help - paperwork wise) my first rifle from Woolworth’s in our local mall. Nowadays, that mall is the ultra-chic, can’t-afford-to-shop-there mall. Just like you described, Ted. I knew the counter man by name as we’d ride our bicycles (Sting Rays of course) three miles to the mall and hang around. Those were good days when a group of shaggy haired youngsters could safely go that far from home without fear - and be trusted not to get in trouble with the law.