What you're looking at here is a photo taken of one of the four sides of my old hometown square. Judging by the stores and the looks of the cars, it fits nicely into the era of my childhood- the early to mid sixties.
This group of shops faced the town common, as did the shops behind me and across from me.. The fourth side of the common, directly across from the shops in this photo and to my left, would be the town hall.
The shops across from this photo were not places I frequented a whole lot. On the corner, the corner closest to the stores in this photo, was a bank (which I mentioned here). A few doors down on the left from that bank was a Grant’s Department Store.
Grant’s was a competitor of Woolworth’s, but didn’t have the folksy “charm”. The only time I can really remember going into Grant’s was at Christmastime, when my family would go Christmas shopping. I remember shopping for presents on one particular night, and standing in front of racks that were filled with manger figures. These were the hand painted, paper mache type from Italy that you can sometimes, rarely, find at a flea market or tag sale. They’re the ones they now make less colorful, plastic replicas of.
My oldest sister had one of these mangers, so I bought her a donkey and I think, a cow. I knew she already had at least one of these animals, but it made sense to me that there might be more than one of them hanging around a manger. It certainly made more sense than having a fourth wise man- which would look like the exact twin of one of the other guys- stunned expression and all, and it certainly made more sense than buying a second baby Jesus- unless you were going to use one for a stand-in.
So, I bought the two figures and I bought a couple of the Christmas candles, also hand painted: a choirboy and a blue church. These candles sat on our mantel for years, along with other choir boys and girls, a holly decorated lamp post, and a jolly, waving snowman and Santa. Now they sit in a can, somewhere in my basement, since I don’t have a mantel, or the space to show them.
But going back to this photo, just out of sight past the Woolworth’s, and across from the aforementioned bank, was Kinne’s pharmacy (which I have incorrectly spelled elsewhere as “Kinney’s” - even though it makes more sense). Kinne’s (or Kinney’s) was a place I visited most Saturdays when I tagged along with Dad on his errands. This was in the day when a Pharmacy, like most things back then, were stand alone entities- instead of being a part of a super store chain, one that might also sell weapons and ammunition along with the drugs.
It wouldn’t be unusual for a town to have more than one drug store, and indeed, I can think of at least four in my old town, and I'm sure there are ones that I’ve forgotten.
Between Kinne’s and Woolworth's (and also out of sight), was a dress shop. This was also one of those stores that was a stand alone concern, before superstores made them obsolete. Unlike the pharmacy, I don’t mourn the loss.
Next we had Woolworth’s- the combination super store/ dollar store of my day. They had it all. Outside was the bright red sign that glowed brightly at night. It was especially pretty at the holidays where it contrasted nicely with the Blue Tree across the street.
When you passed through the doors, you were greeted with a scale that also sold you a tiny rolled up horoscope for a nickel, and gumball machines- including a grimey one that would dispense a few yummy pistachio nuts which would stain your fingers red when you pried them open.
They also sold housewares and clothes and toys, and in the back, they even sold pets- not big pets, like dogs or, God forbid- cats. But they sold pets such as little mini turtles, which my brother and one of my other sisters had. And they sold fish. And they had a couple of cages filled with colorful canaries and parakeets. Throughout the store you could hear the birds squawking, amplified perhaps due to the old wood floors. The squaks sounded an awful lot like high pitched: “Help! Help!”. Nowadays, most of these pets are either “protected” or extinct.
Woolworth’s also had a lunch counter along one side of the store. This was the type like you might see in a Norman Rockwell painting, but with more grease. I rarely went over there and I never ate there. This had nothing to do with the grease, as appealing as it was. It was because this counter was on the opposite side of the store from the toys and the pets. In between were rows of things like bedding and women's clothing. It just wasn’t worth the hassle. But boy, those hot dogs sure smelled good.
To the right of Woolworth’s was Rimmele’s Market. This was not the hot spot for me that Woolworth’s was. I went in there maybe once or twice. I remember it also having those easy to clean wooden floors, which was probably the same floor carried over from Woolworth’s next door. I remember it had it’s butcher section in the back, which works especially well with a wood floor. And I remember it being filled with old people, including the butcher. Other than that, there was simply no need for me to go in there, particularly when there were better ways for me to spend my time.
One of those “better ways” was right next door- Gardener’s Music Shop. Gardener’s was a narrow store, probably not much wider than ten feet or so, but it ran as deep as Woolworth’s or Rimmele’s. When you squeezed into the store, immediately on the right was glass display counter, behind which was the cash register. The display case was the kind that, had it been somewhere else, might have been filled with watches or jewelry. Here, it was filled with novelties and practical jokes- things like pepper gum, wind up hand buzzers and those little magnetic black and white Scottie dogs that, when you put them nose to nose, one would whip around, so one ended up sniffing the other one's butt.
It also had siren rings that, because it was the sixties, were made of metal… and really worked. They sold those packs of little black pellets, called “Snakes”, which when you lit them, burned rapidly, making a fizzing sound as they expanded into a long ash “snake”. I think it was my brother who got the idea to light the whole pack at once, thus releasing one big, fat ashen snake. I think it was me who got the idea of lighting them indoors, thus releasing flakes of ash across the formerly white living room ceiling. (By the way-talk about making a federal case over something. I should have at least gotten credit for doing it in the fireplace.)
Gardner's sold caps and finely crafted cap guns. They sold little miniature monkeys and little rubber faces that smoked little miniature cigarettes which blew smoke rings when you lit them (refill packs sold separately- just like real life!). Gardener’s had it all, and they wisely kept in behind a glass case.
I had never really thought much about why they called it Gardener’s Music Store. It was just a name. One day I happened to turn my head and there, hanging all along the opposite wall, and fading into the darkness of the back of the store, were packets of sheet music and musical instruments and supplies. I remember thinking, “How about that! They sell instruments too!”
Next to Gardener’s Music was Rexall Drugs. Two things I remember about Rexall. First, back in my day, stores didn’t open on Sundays, unless they were drug stores. This qualified. I don’t remember going into this one on any particular Sunday, but there was one in a neighboring town and sometimes we would go out to brunch on Sundays, then swing by their local Rexall to kill time before going home.
What I remember about this particular Rexall was that it was one of the two places in town where I would buy comic books (that’s if you don’t count the Bird’s Hill Pharmacy, which strictly speaking, was in town- just not in the center). I was on one of my comic buying adventures, along with a forgotten friend, when I bought a book filled with single panel cartoons, the type you see in the New Yorker, and apparently, the type you would see in Playboy.
I brought it home thinking that this was a pretty good investment, at least as good as the latest Batman. When Dad got a look at it, he thought it was hysterical. Mom was mortified. Dad did the obligatory, “They actually sold you this? I should call them!” However, being Dad, he didn’t- and anyway, the impact was lost since he was still laughing. Mom was still disgusted.
Clearly, there was more to this purchase than what I appreciated. Sure there were some naked butts and stuff. And some of the jokes were funny- but they weren’t that funny. Heck, most of them I didn’t even get. But, from the reactions, I knew I had something- and it was either trouble or pure gold- depending on which parent I looked at.
I folded the thing twice and squeezed it into my toy safe. Occasionally I would pull it out and take another look at it, trying to figure out what the big deal was. I never really did figure it out and eventually I lost interest and went back to my regular comics. At least they were in color.
This leaves Brigham’s and Harvey’s Hardware. Brigham’s was, and probably still is, for all I know- a restaurant along the line of Friendly's. It surprises me to see it at this location. I don’t remember it being here, but then, no matter where it was, I don’t remember ever going in there. Similar to grocery shopping, it wasn’t on my radar back then.
Harvey’s Hardware was one of two hardware stores in town. The other, Allen Hardware, was the one Dad and I usually went to. The only thing I remember about Harvey’s was that I somehow decided to stroll through it one day, only to get hassled by some old guy that worked there. When I got home, I told Dad about it. He took me back to the hardware store to complain about it and whoever it was he talked to, they apologized for their grouchy father.
I learned an important lesson from that day when Dad dragged me back to the hardware store, which was: Selling a kid a cartoon book of risque cartoons wasn't the end of the world. But accusing my kid of doing something shifty? That needed to be dealt with.
In other words, it's all about priorities.
Memories are like some arbitrary string of frames, snipped out of the middle of a film. They happen to take place at some random point in time in the world's evolution, which really is no more or no less important than any other point time- in a long reel of film.
I think about that town, and a large part of what made those places so special is that they just happened coincide my youth.
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