A Foodie Who Doesn't Cook! Part One

I've been in the food business my whole working life. My first job ever was working in my Dad's small grocery store in Marion, Indiana. My job was to stock the shelves when I came to work after school. 50 cents an hour. I worked M,T,Th,Fri after school and all day on Saturday. It was less less than ten bucks a week, but money went a long way in those days. It took me a year to become a clerk.

Ironically, the name of the store was the Sam Arnold Grocery, after my grandfather, who started the store, but passed away leaving my dad as the sole support of my mother and his mother. He was only 23 years old. A lot of responsibility for such a young man.  It was a classic small grocery store in a small business district in South Marion. In the 20s,30s and 40s, each neighborhood had grocery stores with walking distance from neighborhood homes. The ladies were nearly all stay at home moms that didn't have cars.

It was here my food life began. I worked there all though high school. A couple of summers, I worked as a meat delivery truck helper. That was four bucks a day, mostly carrying baloney.  Pretty much what I do now, but with a little different meaning.

The stores of that day were built on personal service. Our store even offered credit to some. It had no shopping carts. Frequently, I would follow the lady shopper around, holding my apron out so she could place her canned goods in it. I remember when we got into frozen foods business with a four by four home freezer. We had a meat department with a butcher, who actually talked to you about meat and everything else. The meat was wrapped in orangish butcher paper. I guess these stores were more like the delis of today. Closing time required sweeping the sidewalk outside. That was my job.

Supermarkets with lesser prices and more selection killed these small family owned grocery stores. The new sacrifices the old. My dad could no longer sustain the business, and he closed the doors for the final time in January, 1961. A sad day for friends, family and customers.

On a trip to a high school reunion I stopped by the old location. I found myself as the only white guy in a black barbershop. I tried to put the grocery store in my mind into the current space of reality. Gosh, it really was a "small" grocery store. Why do the spaces of our youth shrink in the light of today? I tried to place where the stove had been located. Around that stove were the daily discussions of the trials and tribulations of the Marion Giants. Those discussions are probably the only things that carried forward into the barbershop. At least there is one thing that links the past with the now.

It was a simple time. Who knew where life would take the boy that stocked the shelves? I'll get around to Part Two soon. Stay tuned.

Have a nice day!

Sammy Carl