My best down town friend was named Rick. His dad also ran a shop on Main Street. What really tied Rick and me together wasn't our dad's shops proximity, but out love for comics. We called them funny books, but most weren't funny. Most were adventure graphic novels with super heroes saving the world or galaxy in each issue while they dealt with their own personal crises of identity or love. Just like Rick and me.
My job was to sweep out dad's shop, watch the counter, and occasionally shine shoes for extra change. Rick's was much the same, without the shoe shining. Once a day, I'd go to lunch at Jeryo's Drug Store for lunch and I'd usually buy a new comic. My favorites were Spiderman, Batman, Superman (in all their titles: Action Comics, Man of Steel, All Stars, Justice League of America, DC Comics Presents, Superman/Batman, World's Finest, Amazing Spiderman, Marvel Adventures, Marvel Teamups, Detective Comics, World's Finest Comics, The Brave and the Bold). I really liked the societal-angst driven stories in the Green Arrow / Green Lantern books and the Silver Surfer series. I got the entire collection of Anthro - all six issues, but still! and the uber-cool but sadly pathetic Swamp Thing.
Others I would occassionally read included Hawkman, The Fantastic Four, Korak-Son of Tarzan, the Metal Men, then there were the westerns: Kid Colt Outlaw, Two-Gun Kid, Rawhide Kid, Turok-Son of Stone, Tomahawk, and Son of Tomahawk. Man! What great stories to run away into.
Rick and I would keep our collections in medium sized cardboard boxes so we could carry them with us as we spent slow, lazy afternoons either in the back of my dad's or his dad's shops, sitting on the floor, drinking Orange Crush and swapping comics. We didn't worry too much about exactly whose was whose, but we always knew pretty well. His tastes ran along with mine, but a little more toward the lighter side: Archie, Scooby Doo, etc. which were OK, but I was more into the action/adventure stories.
I seem to recall that my obsession with comic books really bothered my dad. He felt that I was wasting my money, and maybe I was, but I worked for my money, kept the shop clean, caused virtually no worries for him and Mom (what was to worry, I was always reading my comics!), so he didn't push it too much, just grumbled. You see, Dad wasn't a reader. He could get by, but he struggled with reading the paper. So that his son would want to sit for hours at a time reading funny books really ... confused him.
More later ...
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Growing up in a small town
My dad owned a business on Main Street and I pretty much grew up in his store and on the Street. In the mid-1960s, downtown VB was a busy place. Wal-Mart was only a gleam in Sam's eye, Cloverleaf Plaza was ... wait, what was a cloverleaf anyway? The only bridge to Fort Smith connected with Midland Boulevard. There was no interstate to distract from the center of downtown life.
W. B. Smith's was one of the main stores, carrying clothes, household items, and some toys. They were located in the middle of the 700 block, on the east side. Just up the street was the Ben Franklin Store, which was more of a "5 & Dime" type store. Which means it was a great place for a boy with a couple of quarters to spend a couple of hours "shopping." Dad always bought Mom's Christmas and Birthday gifts at Mode O'Day across the street. They carried the latest in ladies' fashions.
Bate's Hardware was the most interesting place on the Street for me, though. It was like an Aladdin's Cave of mystery and treasures. First of all, there was absolutely no order to the place. It was a long, dark, cluttered den of shelves, bins, and stacks of tools and supplies. Few dared venture down the aisles by themselves. Most folks would just tell Mr. Bates what they needed (or show him a broken something they needed replaced) and wait while he unerringly went through the murk, around piles of chains and motors, past bins of nails, screws, and doodads, and straight to whatever item you needed. The joke was that he kept it all in chaos on purpose so nobody would dare touch his inventory.
Another favorite store in downtown Van Buren was Jeryo's Drug Store. Every day Dad would give me two dollars for lunch and I'd stroll down a couple of blocks to eat at the drug store. It made me feel very grown up and independent to be allowed to go by myself. What I didn't think of was all the eyes that were on me as my adopted family helped Mom and Dad raise me. Jeryo's was the old fashioned sort of a drug store that, besides knowing every customer's medical history for three generations back and their doctor's phone number, had a real working soda fountain halfway back the left wall. Behind that counter they made ice cream sodas, sandwiches, soups, and lovely treats. Down the middle aisle (the only aisle in the shotgun store) were a half dozen triangular shaped, three legged tables with matching chairs. I'd hit the magazine stand first, to pick a comic book, then march up to the counter to order my regular: chili con carne and a coke freeze, please. I knew the two ladies behind that counter thought I was cute, all grown up and businesslike with my funny book under my arm, but that was OK - they were part of the family, too.
Come to think of it, everyone was family downtown. It was a great big close-knit family and a great place to grow up.
Stay tuned for more memories of growing up in VB ...
W. B. Smith's was one of the main stores, carrying clothes, household items, and some toys. They were located in the middle of the 700 block, on the east side. Just up the street was the Ben Franklin Store, which was more of a "5 & Dime" type store. Which means it was a great place for a boy with a couple of quarters to spend a couple of hours "shopping." Dad always bought Mom's Christmas and Birthday gifts at Mode O'Day across the street. They carried the latest in ladies' fashions.
Bate's Hardware was the most interesting place on the Street for me, though. It was like an Aladdin's Cave of mystery and treasures. First of all, there was absolutely no order to the place. It was a long, dark, cluttered den of shelves, bins, and stacks of tools and supplies. Few dared venture down the aisles by themselves. Most folks would just tell Mr. Bates what they needed (or show him a broken something they needed replaced) and wait while he unerringly went through the murk, around piles of chains and motors, past bins of nails, screws, and doodads, and straight to whatever item you needed. The joke was that he kept it all in chaos on purpose so nobody would dare touch his inventory.
Another favorite store in downtown Van Buren was Jeryo's Drug Store. Every day Dad would give me two dollars for lunch and I'd stroll down a couple of blocks to eat at the drug store. It made me feel very grown up and independent to be allowed to go by myself. What I didn't think of was all the eyes that were on me as my adopted family helped Mom and Dad raise me. Jeryo's was the old fashioned sort of a drug store that, besides knowing every customer's medical history for three generations back and their doctor's phone number, had a real working soda fountain halfway back the left wall. Behind that counter they made ice cream sodas, sandwiches, soups, and lovely treats. Down the middle aisle (the only aisle in the shotgun store) were a half dozen triangular shaped, three legged tables with matching chairs. I'd hit the magazine stand first, to pick a comic book, then march up to the counter to order my regular: chili con carne and a coke freeze, please. I knew the two ladies behind that counter thought I was cute, all grown up and businesslike with my funny book under my arm, but that was OK - they were part of the family, too.
Come to think of it, everyone was family downtown. It was a great big close-knit family and a great place to grow up.
Stay tuned for more memories of growing up in VB ...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
