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Home : Quarterly Archives : Volume 23 |
Tredyffrin Easttown Historical Society |
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Source: July 1985 Volume 23 Number 3, Pages 83–96 Club Members Remember : Before the Supermarket Janet Irvin Malin The country store or general store was quite common when I was a small child. The first one I remember was in Paoli. It was near where the Wawa market is now, which then was a livery stable. My father stabled his horses there while he was in Philadelphia at his job in one of the architectural firms in the city. The store was just east of this. It was a large sort of double store, one side containing groceries and the other, divided by a heavy curtain that you could go through without leaving the store, contained what was then termed "dry goods" - dress materials, linens by the yard, manufactured things such as man's and women's underwear, shoes, sewing notions and buttons - in fact, everything needed by the housewife for daily housekeeping. The only other grocery store in Paoli at that time (late 1918 and early 1919) was Dixon's, which also carried meat. The other stores out in the country, near where we lived at Diamond Rock, were Ellwanger's at Williams Corners; Baughman's at Charlestown; Brittain's on Jug Hollow Road near Valley Forge; a store at Cedar Hollow; and Cimeofs at Devault. There was also a store in Aldham Village; and one at Harveyville (now Wilmer) on Charlestown Road south of Phoenixville. All these stores stocked most staples: flour, sugar, oatmeal, cornmeal, several kinds of canned goods, lard, and sometimes (but not always) meat. You could also get kerosene, or coal oil, as it was known to most people, lamp wicks, and chimneys; not many roads had poles for electricity out in the country. Sometimes there would also be bridles and other equipment for horses, garden seeds in season, and farm or garden implements such as hoes, shovels, and mattocks. Another item was overshoes, a high felt boot which had a low arctic made of rubber to go over it, worn by men working on farms in the winter. They also came in children's sizes and were worn to school on snowy days. Of course, the big attraction for children was the penny candy case. You could spend from five minutes up, depending on the patience of the storekeeper, selecting from the many, many kinds of candy, sour balls, lollipops, "nigger babies", Turkish delight, jelly beans, papers of pills, and so many others I have forgotten. All these were penny candies, some as many as ten for a penny. Then there was Wrigley's gum, and Hershey bars, and Necco wafers, which came in a large roll of perhaps sixty for a nickel, and Luden's cough drops and Smith Brothers' cough drops. The store at Williams Corner was a five-minute walk from Pickering School, and we went there at noon. We didn't dare buy chewing gum because the teacher would confiscate it; sometimes she also confiscated other candy too if she thought you had more than enough to make you sick, and sent it home at the end of the day. There were also the staples of the male population: Mail Pouch Chewing tobacco and Prince Albert pipe tobacco. Cigarettes were not much in demand, and some stores did not carry them. These general stores and grocery stores were owned and operated by men and women who waited on you. You went in with your list, and each article was fetched by the clerk and piled on the counter, counted up, and paid for at the end. Most grocery stores carried only staples and nonperishable groceries and butter and eggs. For fresh vegetables you went to a vegetable store, which also carried fruit - and that was another transaction altogether. I remember one in Phoenixville, called Eyrich's, which was also a butcher shop. If you bought your meat at Eyrich's you were considered a good housekeeper, as they kept the finest meats in town and their produce was much the freshest! When we first came to Phoenixville to shop, an American Store had just opened. It had been bought from a concern named Childs, and many people still called it "the Childs store" for a long time after that. It was one of three stores in Phoenixville in 1919. It later, of course, became Acme at several locations, which still later were absorbed by one larger store in a central location. There were several other general stores - one at Bucktown and one at Pughtown - where they had an even greater variety of goods all in one store. Dress goods, wearables, shoes and stockings, all sorts of sewing notions, all sorts of farm and garden implements, bridles and saddles and other equipment for horses, lamps, dishes, pots and pans, wash basins and pitcher sets, wash tubs and scrubbing boards, almost everything you could desire for a home, as well as groceries and meats, were there. Drugs were the only thing you went to a drug store to get. Chicken feed and other grains for horses and cows were also stocked, but not in verylarge quantities as these were grown on the farm. But if a villager had a few chickens or a cow, he could buy what he needed until he could get to a farmer who had them for sale. These stores were also a way of keeping up with the news of the neighborhood, and usually were also the post office, and a trading post as most wives took their extra eggs and butter to the store to trade for other needs, and in the summer, their extra vegetables to sell and trade for dress goods, etc. as well as food. The stores were heated by big, potbellied stoves, and the men would sit around it on chairs and gossip. (Gossip isn't a man's word - but that's what they did!) And there were always spitoons for them. There was a coffee grinder, and a tea bin - all kinds of bins. When we first went to the American Store they had a little loaf of bread that was a twin loaf, and it was a nickel. You broke it in half. It wasn't very big, but it was only a nickel. Yeast cakes were two cents, and a quarter pound of dried beef five cents; my mother made the most delicious dried beef and gravy, and we often had that for a meal. There was usually a bread case, but the bread wasn't either wrapped or sliced. That came along in the late 20's. Most people baked their own bread. Some of the bakeries in town had a bakery wagon that they drove around several times a week, and Ullmanfs, a butcher shop, had a wagon that brought meat twice a week. Sometimes a huckster would bring fruits and vegetables. When the chain stores - American, A & P, and Hubbs - consolidated all the needs in one store, one by one the special stores were put out of business. The country general store managed to hold on for a while longer, but as people acquired cars and could go into town more easily these too became a thing of the past. The storekeeper no longer knew all the ups and downs of his customers; the old store no longer attracted the "loafers" in wintertime; politics were no longer discussed at great length by the neighbors; and the penny candy case has joined the kerosene lamp and wash basin in the memories of a few of us old enough to remember them. Winona Cadwalader Erickson (For many years, before her death in 1974, Winona Erickson was an active member of the History Club. These reminiscences were written by her for her daughter and grandchildren. She lived in the city, where there were more specialty stores, rather than the general store.) When I was young (in about 1905 to 1910), there were no supermarkets, and all food was bought in small stores - it was very much nicer! At the corner of Market and Dearborn streets (in Philadelphia) was a corner bakery, owned by a German family named Zeigler, No better baked goods were ever made. They were baked in the basement, and the Zeigler family lived in the rest of the house. Bread was five cents a loaf. Big delicious cream puffs, with powdered sugar put on from a big glass shaker, were two for a nickel; large, yummy cinnamon buns, ten cents a dozen, five cents for a half dozen. I was usually the one who was sent to the baker, and because we were steady customers, I was usually given a bun for myself. Also, many bakers would put in an extra doughnut or bun when putting in a dozen of something in the box or bag. (That is how the term "a baker's dozen" originated.) On the opposite side of the bakery counter at Zeigler's was a small case for penny candy. Children were often given a penny by adults, and they were received happily. And much thought was spent on the use of the penny! If I had a penny, I would stand a long time before the case, trying to decide what to select. I often think back on the patience of these storekeepers. They never tried to hurry us. I guess this was when I learned to try to get the most for my money. In those cases they always had squares of fudge, chocolate or vanilla. They were a penny apiece - but I would have been horrified at the idea of getting only one piece of candy for a penny. I usually wound up with a long strip of licorice, about an inch wide, with little buttons fastened onto it. Or shoe string licorice. My very favorites were little white vanilla cone-shaped candies, which were ten for a cent. I would string them out on the arm of the Morris chair, and curl up with a book. That was bliss indeed! At the corner of Dearborn and Arch streets was a little milk store owned by the William Bond family. The Bonds had come from Chester County, and I suppose they got their milk from there. I would go there with a kettle and get a pint of milk for four cents, and a quart for eight cents. The Bonds also had a milk route. When they finally sold out to a larger company they moved to a farm at Frazer. Frazer seemed like the end of the world then, but when we moved to Paoli we caught up with them again. We went to a church supper, and there was Mrs. Bond bustling around, waiting on table! I did not know much about meat, as Mama mostly ordered it. I do remember that I would be sent for either canned salmon (pink) for the cat, or for liver. They were quite cheap, and food that we never considered eating ourselves. We ate red salmon. Delicatessen stores were always interesting. We always bought cottage cheese at one of them. It came in pats on special paper. Then it would be mixed with milk or cream, and seasoned when ready to use. These stores are different today. Even then, a man named Borton had the beginning idea of mass sales. He rented a large barn-like store on the south side of Market street, between 52nd and 53rd streets, and put in long counters on both sides of the store, probably boards on trestles. He placed large quantities of fruits and vegetables on the counters, and sold them somewhat lower than other stores. High school boys were hired to stand behind the counters and bag the merchandise as sold. As I knew most of the boys, this was one place I didn't object to being sent. I usually found extra bananas, etc. , in the bags when I got them home. Near schools there were always small stores selling pencils, copy books, and the ubiquitous penny candy. There was one kept by German people on the corner opposite the Dunlap School. We stopped there frequently. One day I was wondering, I suppose, how many pieces of candy I could get for my penny, a decision to be made between chocolate and vanilla. The owner had a strong German accent and fascinated, without thinking, I said to him, "Veil, then I'll take de vite von." I was scared to death, not knowing what they would do! I didn't go back to that store again for quite a while! Barbara Fry My mother almost never went to a grocery store. Instead, she organized the procession of people who brought food to our house. Those of us who were out for work or school were given lists to complete what she needed for dinner. Sometimes she would telephone in an order for the grocer to fill at his convenience and send by his delivery boy, who brought the groceries into the kitchen and unpacked them on the table. The milkman came early each day; the egg man came weekly; the Watkins man came with the seasons, and occasionally the green grocer man drove down our street and my mother went out to make her selections from his truck. Two of the four grocery stores between our house and school were successful and static; the other two sold the penny candy and ice cream and for some reason changed hands regularly. In the successful stores, children had to be ready with their orders, and the clerk would quickly collect what was ordered from around the store. A long pole with a grapling device brought boxes down from the highest shelves. Never were we allowed to select our own bananas, oranges, or tomatoes; the clerk handed out an assortment of good and bad. In the penny candy store, children were allowed to take their time with their choices. Changing your mind several times was permitted. Much of our food came from the country and was stored around our house, which was designed to accommodate this kind of storage. We had both open and closed porches. In the fall apples by the bushel were kept on the enclosed back porch, and when winter came they were moved to a special unheated room inside the house. Potatoes were kept in the fruit cellar under the shelves of glass jars filled with fruits, berries, vegetables, chicken and beef. Anne Gomins Slaymaker My mother had a little store and ice cream parlor in Strafford, (My father was a printer. He had worked for the Knox Automobile Company, who manufactured fire engines up in Massachusetts, and he drove one of their machines, an early motorized fire engine, down to the Radnor Fire Company. When he got here, he liked the countryside so well he just stayed here, moving into the old house that had been the undertaking establishment of John Reevy.) The store was originally just for ice cream, but since there were no other stores around, my mother added patent medicines and tobacco and groceries and things of that sort to accommodate the neighbors. There was a long marble counter that was the soda fountain. Each spring we would get a new reconditioned wooden cabinet. They'd take out the old one and put in a replacement. The ice man would come several times a week with canvas buckets of ice and a canvas bucket of salt, and we used that to keep the ice cream from melting. There must have been a leak somewhere in the drain from the cabinet, because you'd walk down the cellar way and the whole side of the wall sparkled with salt! We bought our ice cream from Les Mateer, who was the Supplee Ice Cream salesman. He later married my school teacher, Miss Anne Hart. Janet Malin When my mother first started to shop out here she went to Paoli, bacause that was the way we had come to this part of the country, (We had lived in Narberth before.) But when she got talking with her neighbors, they said, "Why don't you go to Phoenixville to shop?" Things were much cheaper there, and when she got home and counted up her grocery money she found she had much more change than when she went to Paoli. Betty Haney I can remember that when I was a child my grandfather had a store and used to sell just about everything except meats. When I went to their house I always had a bucket or small pail to get oysters at a food store nearby. They would dip them out for you. Janet Malin The house where we lived at Diamond Rock had been a store at one time. We found it out when my father started to plant fruit trees and everything else he would plant - he loved to grow things. When he dug, all around the house and in the chicken yard, there was always a layer of oyster shells. The people who lived across the road from us told us that it used to be a store and that the storekeeper sold oysters. He would shuck them, and when they got the oysters out he buried the shells all around the house. The house was built in 1861, but when it was a store I don't know. My grandfather kept his store, I guess, from about 1899 to 1928. He had someone else keep it for a while, and then he made it into another apartment. There were apartments above it too. There was also a barber shop connected with it, with a porch, and the men would sit out there and go to get shaved and get their hair cut. We still own the property. Somewhere down in the basement are things that nobody has gone into for years. We did find a thing used to keep bread and rolls, and some large jugs - I guess they were for vinegar. And what else is down there? A Clark's spool case, with glass sides, that turns around on a turntable, and there's one with drawers that come out and was used for fancy ribbons and braids. It's a real treasure trove down there! Irene Wheeler We went to a country store when I was a little girl up in New Hampshire, Tom's Store. We took our own jugs for a gallon of vinegar or a gallon of molasses. Nobody has mentioned the cookies, in the square containers with a glass over them -- Bob Goshorn When we were boys, my brother Bill and I didn't look at all like each other - Bill was always a bit on the chunky side, to put it nicely, while at that time I tended more to the slender side. Nevertheless, Walt Breuninger, our corner grocer, always pretended never to know which of us was which. "Hi Bob, how's Bill?" was his standard greeting, no matter which one of came into the store. Even aside from our different physical appearance, there was another reason he should have been able to tell us apart. In those days cookies weren't pre-packaged as they are today: they came loose in large cardboard boxes, about a foot in each direction. The boxes were placed in large racks, a glass door or lid over the top of each one. It was Bill who, on entering the store, would cast his glance fondly at the rack and announce, "I don't like 'poconup', but I do like 'chocolip'!" It worked almost every time! He would be invited to lift the lid and help himself to one of his special chocolate favorites, a wafer about two and a half inches in diameter, covered with a mound of marshmallow, in turn covered with a chocolate coating, and a pecan on the top. No wonder he was chunky! Eleanor Wilson Dunwoody When we were little children (in about 1910) we had two stores in Berwyn - some of you may remember them - Hall and Hibbard's and Stetson's store. Stetson's was a meat market, and Hall and Hibbard's was a little grocery store. They waited on you then; you never waited on yourself. But we did most of our shopping at a little store in the Valley at New Centreville. New Centreville was a little village. It had a hotel, a blacksmith shop, the house where the superintendent of the Valley Forge Park lived, and this country store with the post office. It was in an old building, and it belonged to Ben Walker - one of the many Walkers in the Valley - and his wife May. We lived in the country. We couldn't just walk around the corner to go to the store; we had to drive in a horse and wagon. We'd drive to this store, and my father would always charge things for the month. At the end of the month we'd take the check down, and we always got a stick of plaited peppermint candy. (I figure it cost a cent, it and the other red and white candy sticks - but we thought it was great!) I remember the coffee mill. You didn't buy ground coffee in those days; you had it ground in the store in the big coffee mill. We used to buy a pound or two or whatever it was. I also remember the big cheese. It was sharp. You can't buy cheese like that today! It was so sharp that it just about bit you, almost. We'd buy a pound or half a pound or whatever and take it home with us. The coal oil was outside. We would take a five-gallon can to the store and get coal oil because we had lanterns for the barn and lamps for the house. We didn't have electricity in those days. We didn't buy much else because, living on a farm, we had our own butter and cream and milk and eggs and chickens, and we went to Stetson's store in Berwyn, which is where we bought our beef. (It was usually roast beef.) We never bought bread because we made our own bread. We made all our cakes and pies and rolls. I don't think they even had bread down there. The other things - we needed sugar - I think we got at Hall and Hibbard's in Berwyn. In the store at New Centreville was a long counter, and at one end of the counter was the post office. May Walker had it, and she was quite a talker. The minute you walked in the door, she talked and talked and talked. As she handed out the mail, she would say, "Oh, here's a post card from so-and-so." It was so funny - she'd do it all the time! I can't remember whether she sold spools of thread and needles or not, and I don't know anyone to ask except Frances Walker, who lives up on Valley Forge Road. (if I get in touch with her, she might know. Her grandfather was the one who had the hotel and the blacksmith shop. They're both gone now. We went down there for another reason; my father always took his horses down there to be shod at the blacksmith shop - maybe once a week.) As for dress goods, again I don't remember. Most country stores did have yard goods and material, but I don't remember whether they did or not. But I can see it as if it were yesterday. Eleanor Chworowsky The store that mother is talking about is now a restaurant. It's called the Crossroads Tavern. Frances Ligget When we moved out to the farm in 1926 Mr. Ullman would come by in his truck once a week. We also had the peddlers, with their packs on their backs, and they would come to our door. Eleanor Dunwoody They came down to the farm too, Frances Ligget The peddlers with their packs on their back came down the dusty roads, hot or cold. Herb Fry Janet Malin mentioned the Childs store in Phoenixville and that it was succeeded by the American Store. I can throw a little light on how that happened. The American Stores was founded in 1919 by a merger off our partnerships in Philadelphia, one of which was the Childs company. The others were the Bell Company, Robinson and Crawford, arid the Acme Tea Company. That was the genesis or beginning of American Stores. Janet Malin My mother would say, "Where can I buy such and such a thing?", and they would say, "Oh, go to Childs'." But she couldn't find Childs in Phoenixville and she wondered where it was, so finally she asked a policeman - his name was Fogarty and he was the only policeman in Phoenixville at that time - and he told her it's called the American Store now. Herb Fry We lived on a farm too, and as a member of a farm family which was more or less self-sufficient in the production of food, there were limited opportunities for visits to a food store. In some instances, the need for staples not home-grown was served by the occasional visit of the Grand Union "tea" man. The Grand Union company marketed tea, coffee, spices and other baking needs through a door-to-door route system and horse-drawn wagons, later replaced by motor trucks, until well into the 1930's. Needless to say, these infrequent visits were a special occasion for all of us. My father did most of the family shopping because his daily trip to the dairy with milk from the family cows took him past the local store. It was also a special treat to be invited to ride with him to the dairy and then to stop on the way home at the corner store operated by C. A. Shuhart in the village of Sanatoga. The store premises were a modest sized room with wood floor, pot-belly stove, long counter at the right on which sat a scale and coffee grinder, and shelves along the walls. The village post office shared a portion of the counter space, as Mr. Shuhart was also the postmaster for over 50 years. Sometimes we would carry a tin pail to the store with us, to be filled with molasses from a large barrel with a pump crank and spout on top. My mother needed molasses for baking, but, also, a cup of Postum and molasses on buttered bread was a favorite mid-morning snack for my dad. Elizabeth Goshorn In the 1920's and '30's my mother used to go to the grocery store every few days, rather than once a week as I do now. This was partly because there were no freezers; it was partly for sociability; but mostly, I believe, it was for the cats. The meat section of the store had a high counter, behind which the butcher stood to give personal service to his customers. The floor was highly polished, with a thick layer of fluffy sawdust. And, dashing about on this fragrant surface there was at least one, and frequently two, fine big sleek cats. Of course, they were there to keep the mice under control, but for a cat-devotee like my mother they were a special attraction. Well, cats will be cats - and you know what that means. So one day when I accompanied my mother to the store she introduced me to the tiniest, liveliest black bouncing kitten imagineable. "Would you like to take it home?" she asked. Delighted, and excited at acquiring my very first pet, I said "Yes!" at once. "But what shall I name her?" I asked. My mother, facile in four languages, did not hesitate, "Meatsa-market, of course!" And so the kitten was called "Meatsa-market" from then on! Bob Goshorn Several people have mentioned the personal service before the supermarket. But I can recall one instance in which the clerk did not give service. Sixty years ago the leading brands of ginger ale were Canada Dry and Cliquot Club. It was at the height (depth?) of Prohibition that my mother went into the grocery store and asked for "two bottles of Canadian Club". "What was that?" he asked. "I said," she replied haughtily, "I'll have two bottles of Canadian Club." "One more time," the clerk replied. Drawing herself up to her full five feet two inches of height and dripping with sarcasm, she once again ordered two bottles of Canadian Club - "if you please". When the customer behind her said, "I'll have two of the same", she suddenly realized why her order could not be filled! Mildred Kirkner My first recollection of shopping is shopping at the American Store in Berwyn. It was a little red brick building - torn down now - at the corner of Bridge and Lancaster avenues, where the Mini-Market is now. I have some pictures of the interior of the store, which are kind of interesting. In them you can see that bread is five cents a loaf, eggs are $.35 a dozen. And then there was another grocery store in Berwyn, Alvin Hall. He's the same Hall as in Hall and Hibbard. At his store Booth's ginger ale was $.47 for a two-quart bottle, a box of saltines was $.25 a pound. There is also a picture of the old drug store in Berwyn, which is now an antiques shop. My mother used to say that when you were sick you went to Dr. Aiken (who was where the restaurant is now) and he would give you a prescription; you'd go next door to the drug store and get it filled; and if that didn't cure you, on the next corner was the undertaker! Leighton Haney I don't really remember much about the general store, although I can picture in my mind picking off the cereal boxes from the top shelf with one of those grappling hook gadgets. It must have been when we lived down in Newark, Delaware, sometime before 1931. I also remember the pickle barrel, and the cracker barrel, and kerosene coming out of a big container with a pump-like gadget; we'd take it back for the kerosene stove. In the mid-1930's the American Store and the A & P were side by side on Main Street in Norristown - maybe not side by side, but close enough in the same block to be very competitive. I believe the A & P was my mother's favorite. Shortly after that time the Genuardi boys opened their first store up in Jeffersonville. There were five brothers. In the last few years they opened a store in Chesterbrook. We went over to the opening, and one of the brothers - I think it was Jack, he's now about 70 and no longer connected with the store - was there. We went up and introduced ourselves and immediately he said, "I remember your mother and father real well. Your mother was one of the nicest ladies!" He really remembered her! In the early days they delivered groceries. In 1939 or 1940 you called up the Genuardi store, and they brought your order around to you. Betty Haney Most of the stores delivered. In fact, when we lived in Boston, after World War II, S. S. Pierce had a service where they would call you every Tuesday and every Friday bring you flour and cereal. They also brought you dry goods. Bob Goshorn There was a store in Paoli that delivered. I think it was Burkey's, but nobody called it that. Across the top of the windows were the words "FRESH DAILY" - what it was that was bought fresh each day I have no idea - but everybody called the store "Fresh Daily's". No one called it Burkey's. Leighton Haney In 1943 I was working in Fort Atkinson, Wisconsin. Wisconsin being the dairy state, a quart of milk was five cents. Janet Malin mentioned earlier the big curtain between the grocery area and the dry goods area. At Shady Maple today the two sections are separated by the parking lot! Here is a modern version of the old general store, food in one store and across the parking lot are dry goods and everything else you might need. We haven't got away from it completely. Anne Slaymaker Along with the candy case in my mother's store they used to have a tobacco case. Our neighbor, the man who lived next door (he lived where the Covered Wagon Inn is now), used to come in and buy "chawing" tobacco. I was only 10 or 12 years old, but I used to help at the store - there were no restrictions at that time. So I got the tobacco for him. It was called "Apple", in squares, and it smelled so good. Oh, it smelled good! Now I used to help myself to the candy counter, so I thought I'd try the tobacco. He opened up his tobacco and took a bite out of it and walked out of the store. So I opened a piece and took a bite out of it - Well!!! I never smoked. Eva Noll In regards to packaging, I remember they had a great big roll of brown paper. They would tear off a piece and, with a very soft lead pencil, they'd figure out your bill right on the paper, and then wrap everything up. Then they had a string that came from above, or sometimes from that string thing that came from the side, and they'd tie it up and hand it to you. Just before the second world war the bags came in. If you bought enough, you'd get a brown paper bag, a thick paper bag, to carry your purchases. But they still used the big heavy lead pencil to add up the total on the bag; and we'd watch them and add it up ourselves right along with them. Mildred Kirkner The way they used to pack those bags always fascinated me. One bag - you never came out with three or four - and everything fitted perfectly. Now they put the eggs in, then put a can of something on top of them! Ron Kehler How many of you have gone to the store, and after you got whatever it was you wanted to get just said, "Put it on the tab"? You'd pay for it at the end of the week or month. Anne Slaymaker I remember my mother kept big thick books, where she'd carry all these people on the book. Sometimes we hardly had enough to pay our bills. But these people were coining in for food, and she never turned them down. Janet Malin In Coatesville, which was a mill town, everybody bought on the books - everybody! Then they'd pay on pay day. I still have upstairs somewhere my store book. There was a little store up the street that I went to quite often. The storekeeper was Polish, and his wife always wrote things the way they sounded to her. "Cake" was "keki". I still have it somewhere. Everybody bought on the books, and paid on pay day. Dorothy Reed I lived in the city before I came out to Berwyn. We lived at 41st and Westminster Avenue, and we did our marketing down on Lancaster Avenue, so when I was old enough I went down there. The store I liked to go to most of all was Yoder's. They had two nice blond young men there. They sold the best cheese - we called "sweitzer", it was Swiss cheese - and also tea and coffee, and it was the nicest store. Then up the block there was Butler's. When they changed to Robinson and Crawford they painted it an awful yellow. I remember the yellow more than anything else. In the store they had two sizes of Vienna bread; one was a $.03 a loaf and one was five cents. You got two of the three-cent loaves for a nickel too. But, of course, my grandmother baked twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, and it was only on occasion that we used the Vienna bread. Then on the same block there was Morton's vegetable store. That was a huge place, and I remember the spinach - I haven't seen as much spinach since! After we moved to Germantown, things were about the same. And then we came out here to Berwyn. Millie Kirkner was telling you about the American Store. There were three people who worked there - Mr. Austin Burns, Miss Bessie Montgomery, and Miss Becky Harrison. Miss Bessie Montgomery sat in the cashier's box, Miss Harrison was the clerk, and, of course, Mr. Burns waited on the store. Miss Harrison also worked as the night operator at the telephone exchange. When she had a date coming up, she would come to the store in the morning with her hair in curlers. There was always an argument going on between the three of them. They were awfully nice people, but there was always some kind of clash somewhere. I don't know whether anyone ever won. But it was always interesting to me!
The Hall & Hibbard Store in Berwyn |
