Taylor’s Grocery Store - A 1950s Memoryby Tom Williams, Jr.
My brother, David, and I were in the Fifth and Sixth Grades, respectively, when we moved to the “camp” from Ash Street. Then, instead of walking to school each day, we rode the school bus, a new experience for both of us. Among the other bus passengers were J. R. Brannon; Fred Davis; Clementine Davis; Horace Allison; James “Bo” Grimshaw; “Butch Furrh,” Ruth Kronke; Graves Enck; the Ashabranner children, Johnny and Margaret; the Welch sisters, Barbara and Joan; the Shumate brothers, Terry, Don, and Charles; and others whose names have faded over the years. There was always lively conversation and good-natured horseplay on those rides. I talked with J. R. shortly before his death and with Fred and Clementine Davis, and they, too, had fond memories of those early morning and end-of-the-day bus rides.
When we “camp kids” debarked from the bus each afternoon, we were directly in front of Taylor’s Grocery store, a small establishment across the Henderson Highway from the camp. It was owned and operated by an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Cecil Taylor. Depending upon the weather, some of us would invariably visit the store before striking out on the short walk to our homes. The hotter the weather, the more of us there were who were likely to enter the store.
We treated ourselves to such things as Coca-Colas, RC Colas, peanuts, Oreo cookies, “big orange drinks,” Baby Ruth candy bars, an occasional ice cream sandwich, and similar health food items of that era. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were very watchful as we roamed the aisles and fished in the “drink box,” bringing out those ice cold drinks.
For those of us without ready cash, there was an interesting system in place when it came to “settling up” for our selections. The Taylors kept a large (20 or 30 inches square) board near the cash register. On this board were mounted several small ticket books, each with a family name boldly printed on its cover. As each child reached the tally point and presented the selected refreshments, Mr. or Mrs. Taylor would note it, along with the price and the date, in the appropriate family ticket book. I don’t believe we were required to sign for our selections, but each month (or perhaps each week) one of our parents would stop by the store and pay for whatever their ticket book showed we had obligated them for since their last payment. Sometimes my brother and I were admonished to “slow down on the candy and Cokes” we were putting on the tab at Taylor’s. That kept things within acceptable limits in our case.
My information now, however, after the passage of over 50 years, is that some of the other young customers of the Taylor emporium had their privileges curtailed because of their excesses. In fact, now that I think of it, I remember being importuned by one or more of my friends to be permitted to put some refreshment for them on my family’s tab, with the accompanying solemn promise to repay me, along with exorbitant interest, from their next day’s lunch money.
Taylor’s Grocery, the Taylors themselves, all twelve of those homes, and many former camp residents are gone now, but the memory of our visits to that little store and the walks home along that hot, tar-covered camp road will stay with me forever.
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