Bristol’s Rexall Pharmacy
A True Story
By
Robert A. Chapin
Copyright 1987
Smashwords Edition
Another In A Series of Nostalgic Short Stories.
Revised September 2, 2011
It was 1961, Ike was President, (JFK was elected on November 8, 1960 - and entered office on January 20, 1961). Gas was $.25 a gallon, minimum wage $1.00, milk $.97 gallon, bread $.21 loaf, postage $.04, T-bone steak $.68 lb and a new Chevy station wagon was $2250.
Car 54 where are you and The Dick Van Dyke show had families glued to the DuMont and Zenith TV‘s. I was 15 and thought I had the answer to everything! We lived in a small New England town in central Massachusetts - a rural farming community of approximately 1800 residents and there were in all liklihood more farm animals than people.
Our town had a Rexall Pharmacy - Bristol’s Rexall Pharmacy and its proprietor was “widow Bristol” and she drove a 1961 Corvair. It was the talk of the town. A red four door and with the engine in the trunk.
She was in all probability only about 40 years old but, as a kid we all thought she was a dinosaur. Being matronly, it made her appear as though she was in her 80’s. Mrs. Bristol worked the soda fountain. A four swivel seat marble counter with the spigots to the soda water and coke syrup on the edge of the counter and the huge mirror on the back wall.
One of the great things about Bristol’s Pharmacy was the magazine rack opposite the counter where - when she was not in the store kids would hang around flipping the pages of Popular Science and Popular Mechanics magazines. Mrs. Bristol was a devout Catholic and would never allow the men’s magazine Playboy to be sold in her store.
The aroma of the concocted drugs and elixir filled the small store. From the moment you walked in until you departed, you inhaled the sweet sometimes - pungent concoctions. Walt was the pharmacist, always wearing that white lab coat - freshly starched with his and the Rexall logo embroidered over his left breast.
Occasionally, a young married man and Walt would whisper at the window then disappear into the back room where all the drugs and bottles were stored was a series of small shelves. Those in our group of adolescents made every attempt to keep out of sight as Walt returned with a small package of “rubbers“ and discretely put them into a small brown paper bag. As he worked his way to the front of the store the customer never looked up from the floor - grabbed a Three Snickers bar paying Mrs. Bristol as he departed kind of like breaking the humiliation.
When Mrs. Bristol was tending the counter she didn’t allow any of us teens to read the magazines. You wouldn’t just receive a word of warning, she would actually shoo you out of the store. We were a group of three who hung around together flipping through the Popular Mechanic magazine at the striking photo of a Corvair on a test track and suddenly every boy wanted one.
It was one of those times when Mrs. B was not manning the soda fountain, and we all thought she was either on her day off or at home for several hours which was often the case. However, from out of nowhere she sternly remarked: “No reading - unless you’re buying!” At that point, the two nerds with me left the store and I thought I would impress Marilyn by joining them at the counter - in the last remaining seat - what luck!
Marilyn Snell was the fairest haired blonde I ever laid eyes on. I tried everything to get her to like me. But the dork’s I was with the just wanted to play grab ass. I wanted to impress Marilyn but my attempt was always met with taunts from these knuckleheads.
As we began to pick out our imaginary colors for “our” Corvair, Marilyn along with two of her girlfriends were already at the soda counter and each time she glanced at me, my legs turned to rubber.
Of course. The nitwit’s I was with made a scene in an effort to draw attention to point out that I was “in love” with Marilyn.
I ordered a Cherry Coke, and Mrs. B., was always short on the syrups but heavy on the fizzy water. With Marilyn ignoring me, and all three girls giggling and darting their eyes in my direction, it was evident they were in some way talking about me, or something about me was of interest to them.
Without considering the consequences of a Cherry Coke with a surplus of the bubbly water, I eagerly sucked on the straw consuming what seemed like ½ of the contents of the glass - then it happened: As I turned to make an impression on Marilyn my eyes began to water, and what I had consumed quickly and without warning erupted through my nose, spraying and splattering snot over not only Mrs. Bristol’s super clean counter and display cards, landing on the three girls.
As expected, Mrs. B. threw all of us out into the street. The girls ran in one direction and I was left - alone - to deal with the agony of defeat. This was in 1961. Bristol’s Pharmacy has been converted into an optometrist’s office.
* * *
It is now 2010, almost 50 years later and in the years since, I experienced combat in Vietnam, graduated from college, married and raised a family, completed a wonderful and successful career with a major airline retiring in 2001 following the attack on The World Trade Center. In 1983, I formed a successful publishing company.
Throughout the years, I became skilled in photography living in Western Massachusetts. In less then a one hour drive to neighboring Vermont and New Hampshire I often throw on my photographer’s vest, several camera’s and off into the crisp fall when the vibrant colors of the sugar maples are just “on fire” - a photographers dream!
On this particular day I just crossed the line from Massachusetts into Vermont and began to travel down a road looking for what my mind’s eye considered worthy of adding to my portfolio. This one road directed me into a small town of Guilford with a population of a little more than 2000 residents.
Once I entered the town, there were no meters or any marked lines for parking. Not unusual in rural New England, but nevertheless, a welcomed relief from meter maids and those chalk marking parking police in major cities, while driving a golf cart would extend a wand with a piece of chalk attached and mark your tire continuing with the chalk down onto the pavement. When they returned, if the chalk lines matched up you got a ticket. None of that existed in Guilford, Vermont!
It was like walking into a time warp. It could have been rural America in the 1930’s, with a general store, a single pump gas station with the old ESSO sign, the A & P grocery store. The usual doctor’s office and lawyer offices with the hand painted signs on the windows. The post office was the type with the old multi box and combination styles.
Further on down the street was a Rexall Drug store - Ah!!! My thoughts immediately drifted to Mrs. B., and Bristol’s Rexall Pharmacy in my central Massachusetts town of West Brookfield. For the moment, I was paralyzed with reminiscence of my pubescent youth. It was an unusually hot fall day and as I grabbed the door handle, droplets of cold water fell on my head from the old air conditioner above the door.
To open the old worn door, one had to tug on the handle. Once inside, the charm of Bristol’s was staring me in the face. The aromatic solutions and the one time mixed tonic was not present but my brain had already been transported to some fifty years earlier.
The same magazine rack with a current assortment of magazines was ever present, and there was still the Popular Mechanics magazine, but no kids and no Mrs. Bristol. I was soon to learn that Mrs. B. had been restored in the twenty first century.
From out of the back room to the controls of the soda fountain, this elderly lady appeared asking if she could be of help. I explained that I was photographing in the area and my fascination with the Rexall store in neighboring Massachusetts. She owned the store with her now departed husband since 1944 and she was now 86 years young and no one - not her grandchildren or anyone wanted to take over the business and sadly, in the next 60 days the store would close forever.
She had taken great pride in preserving the marble counter and four swivel stools. We continued to talk - I ordered a Cherry Coke. Fearful that she would skimp on the flavoring, I observed as she pumped the elixir into the glass, then added the fizzy water causing the contents to foam to the top. This time with years of experience and without Marilyn Snell to impress, I carefully - very carefully, sipped through the straw and to my delight enjoyed the flavor of both the soda and nostalgic visit with the owner.
For all those years I wanted to date Marilyn, I never did succeed in convincing her, but a strange thing happened. When I was in basic training at Fort Dix in 1966, and on a 24 hour pass to visit my mother in rural West Brookfield, I was about ready to leave on my return on a Sunday afternoon (it was a five hour drive and I had to report back to my commander by 10:00 PM that night - or otherwise be considered AWOL), when Marilyn called acknowledging that through the grapevine she learned I was back in town - asked if I would like meet and possibly go to the drive in that night. What luck!
In The past several years Smashwords has allowed me the opportunity to revive so many of my short stories and place them on the internet. I am in a position to offer them free to anyone who enjoys those nostalgic years, and I hope you receive as much pleasure in reading and possibly re-living that era as I do.
There are literally thousands of people who have manuscripts available to publish and do not know how to go about doing so. In order to avoid the expense of self publishing a book which may in the end the cost $10,000 - $20,000, all one has to do is carefully read the Smashwords publishing guide and you will be amazed at the personal gratification you receive and sense of accomplishment. In addition to these (free) short stories I have included, may I suggest you read the generous 50% sampling of my two current novels, and if you are so inclined to purchase them at $1.99 each - I would be grateful.
If you have enjoyed this story may I suggest you post a review. It would be helpful to share your experience with others which may encourage them to read my short stories and ultimately also post s comment.
Blessings!
Bob