Our Neighborhood

When I was a little girl, there were many small neighborhood grocery stores. There were actually three within a block of our house. I’m not sure if they were all in business at the same time. One was across the street at the corner of Third and 65th, and there was one kitty corner to it. I remember these as being good-sized store, but they were tiny compared to today’s supermarkets. Next door to the store across the street there was also a butcher shop for a time. I think my mother shopped pretty regularly at those stores. You stood at the counter and asked for the groceries you wanted. The grocer would go get them for you. Sometimes things were high up on the shelves that went clear to the ceiling. The grocer had a sliding ladder that he would climb to get those items.

It was very common for a family to charge their groceries during the week, and then pay their bill on payday. My mother always paid for her groceries when she bought them, but I can remember going with friends, when their mother would send them down to the corner store for something, and they would ask to have it put on their bill. Once, I heard the grocer say that the mother needed to pay her bill before she could charge anything more.

Mother always bought flour and sugar in 100 pound sacks. She had lined drawers in the kitchen base cabinets that would hold the entire 100 pounds. We often had biscuits for dinner and she regularly baked cakes and cookies, and sometimes bread. During the war, when food was hard to get and hoarding was discouraged, mother was still able to buy flour and sugar 100 pounds at a time. One of his customers asked the grocer why Mrs. Krause could get 100 pound of sugar, and she couldn’t. He told her that Mrs. Krause had always bought that much sugar and the other customer hadn’t.

There was also a small store on our side of Third, at the corner of 67th. Two Greeks, who lived in the back of the store, ran it. Before we were old enough to cross busy Third Avenue, Mother would send us to Sammy’s for things that she needed in an emergency. It was also the place where we could spend our allowance, usually on candy. Even as a child, I thought the place rather dark and dreary, and not very clean. I don’t know how they made a living there, as the stock was meager, but the store remained in business for years.

West Woodland had a fairly extensive business district. It ran along both sides of 65th from about Fifth Avenue to Eighth. Sometime, during the forties, the good grocery stores in our neighborhood must of gone out of business, as Mother started doing her shopping at Nicks, down in West Woodland. They had both a grocery store and a butcher shop in the building. This was a new and much larger store than I remember from when I was younger. At one time, it had been a very small shop, almost a stand. There was a wooden front that was raised each morning to show the counter and the goods behind. We did not shop there then, but walked past on our way to the bus stop on Eighth Avenue.

Other stores along that street were an ice cream parlor, a dress shop, a candy store, a variety store, a movie theater, a photographer and a drug store. My parents patronized all these places. There was also a beer parlor. I think it was the first place we passed on our way to West Woodland. I learned early on that my mother did not think this was a very respectable place. There was a distinctive smell and sound to the tavern and a sign out front that said, “booths for ladies”. I remember wondering about that, and my mother explained that ladies would not be allowed (or might not want) to stand at the bar. If indeed any lady would patronize such a place, was unspoken.

I learned to love the movies. We were allowed to go on Saturday afternoon, if we had money left from our allowance. It cost eleven cents for children. We saw a newsreel, a cartoon, that week’s serial and a double feature, plus the preview for coming attractions. You would think that would be enough for anyone, but sometimes I would stay and see the whole thing twice. When I didn’t come home, Mother would come down to the theater and drag me out. Then, I would not be allowed to go to the movies the next week. I don’t think I ever learned, as I remember she had to come and get me many times, and she certainly was angry about it.