When Main Street was Mainstream and the Amazon was a River

Life, as I know it has changed. During my lifetime great leaps have been made…space flights, computers, and GPS systems. Who would have thought all that incredible technology could be eclipsed by little white vans with a smiley face on the side. Instant gratification on my porch before noon tomorrow.

I got a Christmas present yesterday. Yes, I know it is March and no, it did not get lost in the mail. It got lost in the mind of the female…pardon the over-used cliché and I use the gender reference only because the pun was begging to be made.

The gift is a book of humorous essays about golf, a game I approximate playing. The book is by Rick Reilly, who used to write the back page column of Sports Illustrated. I’ve grown to hate-back page columnists including Rick Bragg in Southern Living or Dan Jenkins for the improbably named magazine, Garden and Gun.

These guys bring a light, humorous yet pithy ending to a magazine. That’s why I dislike them. I try to write light, humorous pithy stories and when I read their essays, it’s like I’ve got Legos and I’m competing against real bricks. I get frustrated but I read them every time I get a chance.

But back to Christmas. My wife, Cheryl buys everybody’s Christmas. She bears the burden of pleasing her side of the family, my side of the family, and me. From about the time the birds head south to warmer climes, packages begin arriving on the porch and I get the cautionary, “Don’t open anything that comes in.” I always assume that she says that because the delivery might be something special for me. I am never sure, however, that the warning is not just to keep me from finding out about those new shoes that show up now and then. When I ask about a particularly fetching pair, Cheryl uses the time worn excuse of “Oh, these old things? They have been in the closet for months.”

But the responsibility sometimes weighs heavy as she finds places to store the gifts and keep my nosy self away. As Robbie Burns wrote, the best laid plans of mice and Cheryl often go awry. When December wrapping time comes along, some things lie forgotten at the back of closets.

Cheryl, while she is in the middle of one task is often focused about three tasks ahead. This causes a lack of attention as she hides away Christmas gifts in September. While her hands are putting away gifts, her mind is on rearranging the living room, sorting out her reading list or ruining my life with good ideas that require me to get out of my chair.

I grew up in a simpler time…pre-big box stores and waaaaay pre-Amazon. If I wanted a pair of jeans or shoes, I would visit The Men’s Shop on Main Street. Before K-Mart and WalMart popped up and malls enticed shoppers away, Main Street, Fort Mill, was still a place to see and be seen. Belk-Brown, Ackerman’s, B.C. Moore & Sons, Stroup’s, Chase’s and The Men’s Shop were all clothing stores on Main Street during the fifties, sixties and seventies.

Despite Fort Mill’s small population, stores survived because people shopped locally. On Saturdays, Main Street buzzed with folks of all ages. Two pharmacies, Rogers’ Drug and Martin Drug competed with cosmetics, candy and ice cream sundaes as well as over-the-counter and prescription remedies.

The A&P Supermarket was at the bottom of Main Street, Home Appliances, Easy Pay and Kimbrells added to the crowd and two, sometimes three, barbershops were sitting-room-only. Add the Center Theater and Eagle’s 5 & 10 to the mix and there was something for everyone.

It was still a time when the stores knew who you were and everyone knew the store manager. There were no hired greeters in the 1960s, but you could bet that if you walked into a store, the manager would speak to you within minutes. They wanted your business and let you know it. You couldn’t get past Lady’s Dresses at the front of B. C. Moore’s without Harry Hallman letting you know how welcome you were. Bill Stroup and George Ackerman were just as likely to meet you up near the door and Bill Kimbrell was glad to extend credit to young families.

Teen boys wore the paper caps and made banana splits or root beer floats at the Drug Stores and high school kids worked at the Dime Store and clothing stores. My first job on Main Street was as stock boy at B. C. Moore’s. I would replace shoe boxes after people tried the shoes on, bring stock from the back and sweep or straighten up the store. During the Christmas season, for a short time, I worked as a Christmas wrapper…that lasted most of twenty minutes. It wasn’t my work ethic… it was my ten thumbs.

My favorite job was working for Forrest “Frosty” Witherspoon at the Men’s Shop. Frosty had bought the store from the Patterson family and was aware that his stock needed to change with the times. The store had been in business so long that once, cleaning out storage upstairs, I found a box of celluloid collars. The collars were used up until the 1930’s so that a shirt could be worn several times with a clean collar attached.

Located beside where the Spratt Building is today, the Men’s Shop sold the standard shoes, shirts, pants, sweaters and of course underwear and socks. Some of the older farmers and mill workers came in for red camel denim bib overalls and work boots and Frosty made sure he kept them in stock.

It was the sixties and kids my age wanted nothing to do with the baggy, pleated fashions of our WWII parents. Wide ties and wider lapels were the subject of mockery. We thought our Central School principal, Mr. Reynolds dressed like a gangster in the movies at the Center Theater.

Beginning in the late 1950’s, Teen-age high fashion in the South was what we now call “Preppy”. For boys that meant Khaki pants, button-down shirts and loafers. The shirts were usually a solid color, preferably navy, burgundy or bottle green. There was a new style shirt that was the “Gotta’ have it” trend. India Madras was new on our scene and we all wanted the colorful plaids our Dads would never have worn. Often called “Bleeding Madras” because the material was not colorfast, one shirt could ruin a machine load of other clothes, Madras was a Mother’s nightmare. I was not the only boy in town with partially dyed sheets, a faded shirt and an angry Mom.

Frosty Witherspoon not only hired high school students, he listened to them. He scowled about the longer hair we adopted when the Beatles came on the scene but he was savvy enough to know that young people influenced more and more of the clothing market. He understood that Fort Mill was changing as its population grew and that his customers looked for newer styles.

Frosty took his high school employees seriously but with a grain of salt. He always included us when he went to the vendor’s show at Charlotte’s Merchandise Mart. He bought for his older established customers but he let us make suggestions for the teenage market. We bought Sero shirts, not as posh as Gant but still cool and they had the mandatory “Locker Loop”. We suggested “penny loafers” and khaki pants “Gold Cup” socks, and English Leather after shave. The more that sales picked up, the more leeway he gave us.

Over the years there were many high school students who Frosty took under his wing. In the years before me, Benny Crouch and John Hamilton worked there. John’s brother, Millen, Charles Hancock and I worked during our junior and senior years in Fort Mill High. At Christmas, Frosty would always hire high school girls to wrap presents. I have already told you why he didn’t ask me to wrap them. Susan Wilson and Karen Bowers worked there during my tenure.

There were positive aspects to local shopping. Small stores could not carry enough stock to have the right length pants for everyone but that did not mean the customer had to settle for poor fitting clothes. A quick measure for length and “Do you want to take in the waist a little?” and I was off to Miss Lucille’s right above the barbershop beside Kimbrell’s Furniture. Lucille Wolf and sometimes Dot Morris would alter the pants and have them back the next day.

This was not a time that adults listened to kids and Frosty was from a generation above my Dad. It took great foresight and even greater trust for Mr. Witherspoon to show such respect as we came of age. He could be stern or gentle.

He wanted us to stay busy no matter how many times we had to refold pants or straighten displays. We wouldn’t have dared to call him Frosty to his face. He was always “Mr. Witherspoon”.

Like small towns everywhere in the seventies and eighties, Fort Mill Main Street fell under the hatchet of the big box stores and the malls. When a business closed on Main Street, nothing came in to fill the space. “For Rent” signs got dusty behind the plate glass windows. There was just nothing happening to bring people in. From the late seventies and into the 2000’s, storefront after storefront sat empty and the only happening places were the Fort Mill Barbershop and the Bandstand.

Main Street is booming again. New restaurants, a brewery, and small shops draw in natives and newcomers alike and there is a constant bustle of activity.

I seem to be getting long-winded and have to go anyway. Despite the growth, I still have to leave town to get a pair of Gold Cup socks for church tomorrow morning. Amazon, it seems, can’t get them here until tomorrow afternoon.