The Old Corner Grocery

June 5, 2014
Houston
A long time ago, in the days before there was a such thing as a supermarket, there was the corner grocery store. They were tiny, didn't offer much in the way of variety, and could be a bit pricey, but they were everywhere.

In any given neighborhood of New Orleans, these little places could be found, and they were usually located on a corner, with the entrance favoring neither street. In the days before refrigeration, these little stores were the only places to get fresh or canned goods, unless one went to a fruit or vegetable market, or bought from a peddlar in a wagon. People used to go to the grocery every day, because without a means to preserve the food, it would go bad. Whatever was bought was used that day.

Things progressed, as ice became available, and there was a means of keeping food cool, but it wasn't very efficient. It did extend the shelf life of some things, this may be true, but the ice box was no refrigerator.

Once improvements were made in air compression techniques, home refrigeration was possible, and people began to store more food - meats, dairy products, and vegetables at home, eliminating the need to go to market or to the grocery every day. That was progress. Even so, the custom of running down to the corner for a quart of milk persisted long after it probably should have - at least it did in New Orleans. (I think that says something about the character and characteristics of its people.)

My first memory of Williams Grocery is when I was about four years old.It was of a sleepy early morning stroll with my grandfather around the corner to get a quart of milk. It was about 5 a.m. or so. We went to the side door, and my Paw Paw knocked, handed the man some money, and the man came back with an ice-cold glass quart bottle of pasteurized milk.  There was about 1/4" of cream on the top. There was a paper bonnet that first came off, then there was a little round replaceable plug or paper wafer that came out of the top of the bottle. I remember the taste of that milk to this day! It was thick, rich, and with a slightly sweet taste.

One day, we were sitting down to eat lunch. There was a bottle of milk on the table. About halfway through the meal, we heard a slight "blum" sound and watched as the little paper plug popped up out of the top of the bottle and into the bowl of spinach. To a four-year-old this was the funniest thing.

One day when my cousin Sue came to stay for a few days, she and I were sent to the store to get a quart of milk. On the way back, the bag broke, and the bottle fell to the street, shattering. We went back to the store, and the man gave us another bottle. He did not ask for more money, either.

My first job, if you could call it that, was one I had for a few summer months when I was probably about 13 years old. Williams had sold out to someone named Scalise. One day I went in and he said he needed a boy to do some work around the place on Saturdays, so at that tender age I was gainfully employed!

This little store wasn't much, but back then it looked bigger than it does now; it was certainly bigger on the inside than it lead on to be.

There was a big, thick set of wooden screen doors at the entrance, that banged whenever somebody came in or left. Where you pulled the door  to enter, there was a sign "Buy Merita Bread. Nearly every corner grocery in the city of New Orleans, it seems, had a Merita Bread advertisement, but I never saw a single loaf of the stuff in my fife.

As one entered, on the right just inside was a huge bathtub-sized horizontal cooler for soft drinks - just the thing to quench a kid's thirst during those sweltering New Orleans summer days! And did that cooler keep them COLD!!!!

All of the soda pop was sold in returnable bottles, and cost just 6¢, even the 16 oz Big Giant Colas! These were the days before Sprite and Diet Coke were invented. There was Dr. Pepper, but there was also Dr. Nut, Stein-o Pineapple, Chocolate Soldier, Big Shot, Zetz, Barq's, Barq's Creme Soda, Sun Spot - most people haven't heard of most of them, because they're not around any more. But there they were, a cool, refreshing treat to whoever dropped a nickel and a penny into the till. The Coca-Cola bottles were 6 1/2 oz, and were heavy with thick bottoms, and had the name written in the glass - not painted on. When one was turned upside down, there was the city in which the bottle was made, and it became a thing for little kids to do: seeing where their Coca-Cola came from.

To the left of the entrance were shelves all around, and another stand-up shelf in the middle, making it a mini-market. We had potatoes, onions, and the like. Lots of canned goods, and coffees like Golden Key, RT, Super Store, and Union, and of course, Luzianne.

Most of the products were local, like Dubon canned vegetables, Horse Shoe syrup, Zaterain mustard, LouAna Oil, Rainbo pickles, Blue Plate mayonnaise, Crystal jellies, and Perfecto olives. One of my favorite thing were the tiny tins of Yogi black pepper. Up toward the front, we had Hubig's pies, Elmer's Gold Bricks and Chee-Wees.

At the glass counter, there were many kinds of candies, too. Atop that old, worn counter was an antique cash register. No printed receipts - no credit cards - but whenever a sale was made, there came this honest, loud cha-CHING!

Mr. Scalise was always ready to slice some ham, cheese, or salami for a customer. It was in giving some personal service that a small place like this could survive. The corner grocery was an integral part of the neighborhood. My favorite part of the day was when the two pretty girls who lived next door to my Aunt Anna's would come in, and they'd see me hard at work. They'd grab a soft drink and, if he wasn't behind the counter, they never bothered Mr. Scalise; they'd open up that old cash register, and put in the money themselves, left, and skipped down those old red-brick sidewalks. Those were honest days then, or at least they were for me.

Scalise's was just one of many I remember: In the next block there was Gaeta's, where sometime's I'd go to get "ersters" as Mrs. Gaeta used to call oysters. At d'Abadie and Paul Morphy there was Moranto's, and there were a few others: Lena Funk's, Lococco's, and several others lost to my memory now.

One by one these mom-and-pop places succumbed to hypermarts offering tremendous selection and lowball prices, or to so-called "convenient stores" selling junk foods, beer, cigarettes, and lottery tickets, and little else. Don't look for any local products, either - only nationally-known brand merchandise is available there.

The corner grocery store had breathed its last breath during my late adolescence. Old Mr. Joe eventually retired and sold his business, and the little place was renamed a few times before the big, red Coca-Cola sign on the side of the store finally came down.

Another thing that started to decline was the local industry. As the smaller places folded, there were fewer outlets for products made locally. Small factories that employed a few people and produced marginal goods fell by the wayside - and big brands became bigger. Instead of many benefiting, few benefited - and the rich got richer.

We said goodbye to Schott Meats, Frey Meats, American Beauty Butter, Gold Seal Dairy, Brown's Velvet Ice Cream, Horse-Shoe vinegar and many others too numerous to mention. Local folks were more and more being shut out, and something that once gave character and a special flavor to the city slowly died off, to be replaced by questionable items made overseas.

There was yet one more victim in all these changes: there was a decided loss of innocence. Thirteen-year-old boys today could never stack cans and fill potato bins on Saturday to earn a little spending money. They'd close the place down and lock up old Mr. Joe.

I can't begin to imagine what would happen if I were to walk into a convenience store nowadays and open the register to put money in to pay for a soft drink: I most certainly would be arrested, and possibly I'd be shot!

Back then, the grocer knew just about everybody. Today, you can go to the same place over and over again, and they won't know you even if you shopped there for twenty years.

That, as they say, is progress. Or is it?

There are many things I like about living in the new Millennium, but I really wouldn't mind going back just once for an ice-cold bottle of Dr. Nut at old Mr. Joe's corner grocery.