This week we were discussing company Web sites aimed at minority groups. I took a look at Wal-Mart’s “Our Voice” effort to demonstrate their commitment to African-Americans. As much as a mere mention of the giant retailers name can evoke strong passions from many quarters, I have to be fair. I found the site a fine educational and historical offering covering the contributions of numerous African-Americans in civil rights, politics, education, entertainment, and sports. Check it out at www.wmourvoice.com.
Yes, they did a nice job on the site, but that is not where my thought process is now going. In fact, not even close. I’ve been thinking about how different retailing has become as a result of the big box strategy Wal-Mart pioneered. There’s the electronic retailers (at least the one’s that still exist in the current economic climate) that carry dozens of dazzling varieties of TV’s, cameras, recorders, music, and more. These stores crushed that Mom & Pop stores across the country who could not compete on price. They could not buy near the volume as these giant retailers, so they were never even in the ballgame once Circuit City, Best Buy, and the like started dotting the landscape. Same impact by Lowes and Home Depot. The last of our small hardware stores in town closed their doors last year, surrendering to the fact that they were surrounded by both behemoths. And we’re a town of only 30,000 people! Makes my how much business there is to even sustain the two giants.
But in my estimation, the biggest assault on our small town way of life was the retailing phenomena wrought by Wal-Mart, which unleashed a crushing blow to the beloved corner stores of this country. Remember them? We had one literally at the end of the short street on which I grew up. It was the centerpiece of the lives of the young kids in the neighborhood. Ours was actually “Bud’s Penny Candy Store” and that is exactly what it was. Filled with Jawbreakers, spearmint and orange leaves, Bazooka Bubblegum, Pixie Sticks, Squirrels, Fireballs, Mint Juleps and more. Plus, there were baseball cards, nickel bottles of Coke, and colorful Flair pens. Enough great stuff to drain a good portion of paper route, shoveling, or carwash money every week. But oh so worth it.
Then a 7-11 “Quick Mart” moved in to town, across the major road, but still within walking distance. They didn’t have near the same variety of candy as Bud. The guy we thought was the owner, but was really some kind of manager, was not anywhere as friendly as Bud. And the place seemed too clean to a ten-year-old kid. But we did notice they had much more soda (or “tonic” as we called it back then); the baseball cards were cheaper; and they had Slurpees! Instead of 100% of our weekly earnings going to Bud, we starting splitting them more and more between him and “The Quickie”. Bud hung in there and I remember going in just because I would feel guilty of passing his store and going across the street because my Mom wanted me to buy milk from the less expensive 7-11. When Stop & Shop, a major supermarket chain, came to town, Bud had had it. He closed up shop and, to our horror, the small store that was so important to us, was unceremoniously knocked down and replaced by a gas station. Later on Wal-Mart moved to town and made a huge dent in everyone else’s business.
I know that Wal-Mart does bring consumers very low prices on countless products, offering substantial savings to many who don’t mind the long checkout lines. But at what cost to the fabric of small town life? I am far from the fist person to voice concern over the impact of “Sprawl-Mart”, but maybe I’m the first one to reflect on its devouring of penny candy shops that are nearly impossible to find any more. Maybe I’m just waxing nostalgic over a great time in my life when penny candy was what it said it was, and cavities were never a consideration. Ah, youth!
