Sterling memories

During my growing up years, there were no Walmarts. No

K-Marts, Gibson’s, Fred’s or any other big “box” stores either and Dollar General Stores were yet to sprout at every crossroads. But we did have popular “five and dime” stores where we bargain shopped—Woolworth’s, Kress, McLellan’s, Ben Franklin and my personal favorite… Sterling Department Store.

Our nearest one was on Main Street in Fordyce, our county seat. How exciting it was for a grade school kid to see that big red sign at the top of the building reading “Sterling” followed by symbols for nickels and dimes. This meant I had enough change knotted inside my “Snow White” handkerchief to make several buys. Before I tell you more, I’ll try to describe a Sterling store—though I doubt it was unlike other such places found in towns scattered across America. It’s been said that “Sterling sold everything from bobby pins to parakeets” and it’s true.

Daddy parked the car in front of the 1st National Bank to tend to his store business and I headed down the block. The front was all glass with seasonal displays and “specials” which were available inside. Nearing its big glass door, I could smell the hot popcorn from the sidewalk. There was a movie theater-type machine right inside the door and it was always popping corn to entice the customer, young and old. Of course, after buying a nickel sack of the buttery kernels you were thirsty, right? Well, those pocketing extra change could head to the back of the store to a squat cooler holding icy bottles of Nehi.

The counters ran from front to back of the store and were broken into departments –each with its own clerk(s.) Usually female, the clerk presided over her section wearing a smock and an ever-welcoming smile. Adding to the popcorn smell was floor wax and furniture oil because the employees were always dusting their counters and merchandise.

When Mama was with us, she usually headed for the fabric and notions aisle where she perched on a high stool to look through the pattern books, checking the latest styles. She’d note how much material, rick rack, etc. was needed and then priced the bolts of material that caught her eye.

Needless to say, I headed for the toy aisle to see what my money could buy. I was happy if it were only a puzzle or a Katy Keene coloring book. I also loved the doll clothes—with no Barbie dolls yet, the clothes fit bigger dolls. Mama’d remind me I’d be wasting my money because she could make doll clothes out of scraps she had on hand. I usually left the toys, glanced at the ready-made dresses in my size, and then head to the back of the store to look at goldfish and tiny turtles inside their aquariums.

At this point, I’ll move on to my ultimate “Sterling” experience— the Little Rock store. Daddy went to the city twice a week to order and buy supplies for our store in Carthage. Occasionally, Mama and I dressed up and made the Friday trip with him in the big truck. Because of its size he couldn’t park downtown so he’d let us out at the corner of 5th and Center Streets beside the huge TWO STORY Sterling’s where we began our shopping.

There were many of the same features as in the Fordyce store, such as the popcorn machine just inside the door, but this one also had a snack bar! I had my first lime-aid there. It also had a restroom accessed by a stairway. The first floor was aisled much the same—just with larger selections of toys, sundries and household goods, etc. The second floor held the softer lines of merchandise—linens, socks and hosiery, shoes and gloves and larger women’s and girls’ departments.

I was intrigued by the caged manually-operated elevator (they later had two) taking the customer between floors. I loved riding inside these and loved watching uniformed operators. At one time, I even considered this job as a possible career choice. I also liked to watch the clerk put our money and ticket into a little cylinder which whizzed up a cable to the office and returned with change and receipt.

But, again, the greatest enticement was found along the store’s back wall—the “pet” section. There, instead of only gold fish and small turtles, I found more exotic choices… parrots, parakeets, tiny dyed chicks, and bunnies with their pink eyes and twitching noses. Once they had a snake! Another time they offered a small monkey who screeched and clung to the bars of its cage as if crying to go home with me.

At Easter I received a purple baby chick I named Pansy. Would you believe she lived eight years, would come when I called her name and followed me to our store and back? Miss Lola, one of Daddy’s clerks, nicknamed ME “Pansy” and called me that long after I grew up and married. Once I got a blue parakeet named Tinker Bell and when “it” died (I could never tell a girl bird from a boy bird) a green parakeet named Chatter. Silly, foolish me! Because it rode around the house on my head or shoulder, I tried the trick outside. Alas… the last of Chatter. Another Easter I received a bunny rabbit—from DADDY—but I never decided on a good name for it because Mama left its cage door open (on purpose, I think.) She didn’t like rabbits. But, I never got the monkey which stayed in its cage for years waiting for the right child to come along. My daddy gave me all sorta’ pets from puppies to a pony, but he put his foot down once and for all when it came to that monkey.