Over time, I will be posting a nostalgic series of vignettes exploring my youthful days in the Osceola Park neighborhood of Pittsfield, Massachusetts during the 1950s and early 1960s. Such tales will describe my adventures when I was seven to twelve years old.
In past stories “My green thumb” and “Come one, come all to the greatest spectacle of all,” I referred to Hanna’s Variety Store. It was situated on Route 20, about two blocks east of my house near Osceola Park. It was a stand-alone, convenience-type store with few other such stores nearby. This lack of competition fostered developments that were evident upon visiting the store.
The store had a bumpy, dusty soil parking lot and a multi-year collection of dirt and grime within. There were several yellow, sticky fly papers hanging from the ceiling, covered with dead flies year- round.
We would return soda bottles for cash there and bought delicacies such as soda, candy, and bubble gum in return. As I remember it, the Bazooka bubble gum was so dried out that we had to let it melt in our mouths in order to make it chewable.
We’d sit on the outside table and enjoy our goodies. Sometimes Poncho, the owner’s son, would make artist’s sketches of us for fun.
The owner, Alex Hanna, seemed old to us and spoke with a foreign accent. He got impatient as we “shopped.” If one of us asked about getting one Mallo Cup, one Snickers bar, and one Hires root beer with seven returnable bottles, he would quickly shoo us out. Maybe he thought the others were trying to steal things by distracting him in this way. Charley Dover was concomitantly trying to sneak a peek at the men’s magazines on the store rack during our rich rapport with Alex.
At other times, it wasn’t unusual to hear Turk, Alex’s brother, complain loudly in four letter words to Poncho about his “lack of work ethic” and the fact that he needed to get off his “fat asssss” and help out.
Alex’s wife, Mama, worked there, too and spoke little English. She was a kind soul who would sometimes not take a customer’s money if she thought the person was too poor. Alex and Turk didn’t like this benevolence and wouldn’t allow her to be at the cash register as a result.
Unsurprisingly, hygienics weren’t a priority at the store. To the point, we thought that Mama suffered from tuberculosis because she would repeatedly cough, sometimes spit up blood into a tissue, and then dump it inside or near a store basket. More than once I saw her reach into a candy box, eat some of the contents, rewrap the container, and place it back on the shelf for resale. Never noticed any hand sanitizers…
Our parents rarely sent us there to buy perishables or to order food from the deli because the place was so uninviting and unsanitary. Only out of desperation might we buy a box of outdated bread or milk. In searching for the desired soup, we had to dust off the can just to read the label. I can’t imagine the effects on one’s GI system after eating one of Turk’s homemade ham and cheese sandwiches. I think the Board of Health may have forgotten to inspect this place.
We often noticed there would be four or five vehicles in the parking lot, but no customers evident inside the store. Upon our entry, some members of the Hanna family would be studying racing forms and writing down their choices to bet on. We focused on getting a sugar and caffeine fix and paid little attention to this particular reading activity.
At some point, we realized the missing store patrons were in the back room and were likely discussing the latest horse races. We heard that the store telephone was eventually removed by the authorities, probably because it was used to make and take bets on the horses.
Although Hanna’s Variety Store was a mixed blessing for our parents, it met our daily needs and was an integral part of the neighborhood. Quite an endearing family store.
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July 03, 2021 at 11:00PM
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Recollections of a Pittsfield kid: Every neighborhood had one - theberkshireedge.com
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