Before 7-Eleven

There was a time when we had neighborhood grocery stores. Ours were Lloyd’s Market, Aoki’s, and Vigo’s. And if you wanted to walk a few extra blocks, there was Wirthlin’s Meat Market. Yes, Elder Wirthlin’s family business for you trivia types. It was located at 8th East and 2nd South. In fact, I think there is a Connie connection somewhere. Anyone know the details?

Lloyd’s was my favorite. It was owned by Lloyd and Mary Warner who lived across the street from the store. As a kid I always thought Lloyd was a kindly gentleman and Mary was the stern one. (When I got to know Mary as an adult I discovered that there isn’t a kinder soul on earth. Maybe she had perfected the anti-shoplifting look to protect the business. Whatever it was, it worked!)

Lloyd’s was on the path to school so I passed it twice every day. Inside the screen door it had worn wooden floors. And two crowded aisles. Along the back wall was the butcher shop. Lloyd cut and ground the meat himself.

Next to the butcher case was the pop machine. The bottles of pop were held in place by their necks and suspended in chilled water. You’d slide open the glass top, grab the cap and maneuver the bottle up to the gate, put in your coins, and yank it up out of the water. The bottle opener was attached to the side and the cap fell into a small container below.

Next to the pop machine was the candy case. Pure profit but very labor intensive. Lloyd or Mary must have spent years of cumulative time waiting for kids to decide. Look, Big Hunk, wax lips, Nibs, candy cigarettes, Boston Baked Beans, little dots of sugar stuck to adding machine tape, and those coils of licorice wound around a little jaw breaker to look like a 45-rpm record.

None of this individually wrapped nonsense. If you wanted just one, Mary would reach in and give you one. Her hands were always cleaner than mine so sanitation was not an issue.

Then there was the cash register.

The other aisle was rather boring with soap and canned goods and the dairy case. But they did put in a Twirl-Town Toy rack on that side of the store. Now that was neat. It was a twirling display rack of cheap toys in individual packages. You could buy 10 Army men…or a whistle…or a ball & jacks…The prices would stretch your allowance but still be possible.

Now and then vendors would market to the elementary school crowd. On the way home from school the bread truck driver would stand at the curb outside the store and pass out a free mini-loaf of bread to the kids walking by. The dairy truck would have small bottles of chocolate milk for us. It happened maybe a couple of times a year but we loved it.

I can recall being sent to the store by Mom or Dad. Sometimes Dad would send me for a pack of cigarettes. He’d always send a note along with his “authorization” to buy them. It never dawned on me to change the quantity and buy a pack for myself. (I never acquired a taste for stupid.)

But I always got a nickel or a dime for my services as errand boy. And most of the time I spent it on the spot.

One day I was walking to school and noticed a black bicycle parked in front of Lloyds. It looked a lot like my bike. I looked closer and realized it WAS my bike. I had ridden it to the store the night before and absent-mindedly left it there all night.

I quickly hopped on and rode it home, then ran back to school so I wouldn’t be late.

Lloyd’s went out of business several years ago. They had kept the metal sign across the front of the building and the large display windows and turned it into a retro, loft-look office of some sort. I’m not sure how that concept worked out. I doesn’t really matter; the candy counter is gone.

The neighborhood store concept worked because most women stayed at home and the family only had one car. Many women didn’t even drive. So, you did all your shopping on Saturday at the supermarket and the neighborhood store took care of all the emergencies during the week. And they didn’t need a parking lot because their customers walked to the store.

The prices were much higher than Albertsons or Safeway or IGA, but they filled a need.