I consider myself lucky for having been able to grow up in a small Texas town. That was in the 50’s and 60’s and my cousins from Houston called it a “hick town”. What ever that meant. My memories and experiences are integrated in the many small business’s that were operating then. Sometimes I enjoy sitting back and “walking” down those streets I knew so well.
There was the produce company that my Dad owned. He bought and sold, chickens, turkeys, eggs, cream, shucks, and sold animal feeds and a variety of supplies for the farmers. I was too young to work, but enjoyed hanging around and observing the customers. There was the little old lady who would bring in a half case of eggs to sell.
Funny that she always left 4 or 5 empty spots at the bottom of the case. Then there were the ladies that came in and insisted on the bag of feed at the bottom of the stack. They were always matching up the feed sack material from another they had already. Most of the kids in school had shirts or dresses made from feed sacks. I got a real lesson in humility from this matter. One weekend my dad had taken my siblings and me to Houston for some event that I can’t remember, and to do some shopping. After the event we went to one of the fancy department stores downtown. Battlestiens I think. I got a shirt and pants. When we got back, my mom fussed about what he had spent for the shirt. My Dad just wanted to show off. Well, Monday morning I went strutting into school about 3 inches taller than normal. One of my classmates and probably the poorest girl in the school came running up to me with a dress made of the exact material as my shirt. She proudly announced to all that her dress came from feed sacks and I was lucky because I could get all the sacks I wanted for free. It was a pretty good lesson for me.
Across the street from the feed store was the Pool Hall. I was strictly forbidden to enter except to just buy a soda pop. One Sunday when I was beside myself with boredom, I decided to brake the rule. I had only taken about two steps into the Hall when an errant cue ball caught me under my left eye. Talk about instant justice! I don’t remember how I explained the black eye to my mom.
Down from the Pool hall was the Sewing store. It was were the local ladies went when they wanted to step up from Feed sack cloth. I wasn’t interested in sewing, so I seldom went there.
The next store I frequented was the Barber shop. All the local “news” was discussed there. Actually, occasionally it was news, mostly it was gossip. I remember the day the barber told me I really had a lovely head of hair. I beamed at the compliment. It wasn’t till some time later that I realized that he told everyone that.
Next to the Barber was the meat market. I didn’t like the smell, but I loved the sausage and crackers I could eat in the back. They had a few old barrel tables and stools. Hot Half links were served on wrapping paper and a huge jar of mustard and plenty of crackers were always near.
A Confectionery was next door. They had the best Cherry Cokes in the world. The stern women that owned it kept an eagle eye on you to make sure that you would only take one straw. Sometimes we took two just to see her reaction. Taking an extra straw could get you a five minute lesson about the “great depression” . They had punchboards and fireworks until they were outlawed.
A few door down was the Drug Store that didn’t sell drugs. The druggist had died and his wife had taken over. It was a dark unfriendly looking place so I stayed away.
The bank was next door. It’s were I opened my first bank account. They gave me a little green book where the two dollars was noted in ink in a penmanship long forgotten. I was given the same courtesy as the customer that had deposited hundreds.
Another confectionary was next door. This one sold beer and homemade hamburgers and fries. Each year when the World Series was on, the owner would bring his console TV from home and place it on top of stacked tables. The extra business must have been worth it. I know I sure ate a lot of hamburgers during the series.
The small post office next door had two windows and a long wall of Postal boxes. Each box had dials for the combination lock. You see a lot of these in flea markets now as they are very collectable. The floor in the post office was always smooth and it was the only one it town were I never picked up a splinter.
Across the street was the movie theater. Saturday was “serial” day. My favorite was Rocket Man. If I came with a dollar, the ticket, pop corn, drink and what ever else would still leave me some change. I remember that a Elvis movie was showing the day I held my first hand .
A few doors down from the theater was the world smallest grocery store. Customers came in to talk and maybe buy something. If they couldn’t find what they needed, the owner was glad to run out the back, cross the alley and grab it from his competitor’s shelf. There were a half dozen small grocery stores in town and they must have had some sort of agreement about sharing merchandise.
At the corner was the dry good store. They catered to the whims of fashion. It always amazed me how quickly they could meet the demand of the latest fad. When the moccasin fad hit, every kid in town was feeling like an Indian.
There were a lot more stores back then. Each one holds some special memory. They all, save a few, have something else in common. They no longer exist. The explanations as to why they all closed are numerous. Some will say it’s the fault of a few powerful families that sought to keep out competition, thereby cutting off “new blood” to the town. Others blame the huge chain stores even if the demise started a good while before they became a factor. Children of the store owners knew the hours that their parents worked and wanted no part of it. Nothing stays the same. The Post Office is no longer on Post Office Street. Today, few people know how to sew.
If feed sack material could still be found, no kid would be caught dead with anything made out of it. VCR’s and TVs killed the little theater. Sanitation laws won’t allow anyone to be eating in the back of the Meat market. It doesn’t really make any difference as to why they all closed.. I’m just glad I had the experience. Boy! Were those Cherry Cokes great!!
©2009
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