Memories from Va. Beach’s Pembroke Mall
As the last day of a 13-year stint at the oldest mall in Hampton Roads came to a close due to renovation, it’s fitting to share some moments from our “mom and pop” shop, Cool and Eclectic. Space doesn’t allow mention of all the friendships that make the efforts of running a small business well worth it, but here are a few.
Shopping experience can be better than the gift
Mary never left our store without something. The items themselves seemed incapable of generating the joy expressed on her face as she clutched her soon to be bought gift. It never occurred to me why she was so happy when I’d give her a tour of items I thought she’d like, until I received a letter from her daughter after her passing.
She wrote that one of her mother’s highlights was coming to the store because she was treated as an adult instead of a child like she was often treated elsewhere, due to her being in a wheelchair. Mary was not merely buying gifts. She was purchasing “souvenirs” of a pleasant shopping experience.
Unwanted gifts can still serve a purpose
A representative for a military support group went around stores requesting items to send abroad to service members. My little plush Mr. Magoo Uncle Sam doll seemed a good reminder of home. No one ever paid any attention to him here. Sporting the colors of our American flag, off he went to the troops.
A year later, I was treated to a large photo album of our distant military. Mr. Magoo was everywhere! On shoulders, on tanks, on trucks, strapped in with his own gun, seat-belted in a Humvee, etc. This once purposeless doll had risen through the ranks to become a morale-boosting mascot for the troops.
Fads come and go
Students from nearby high schools probably didn’t know they were somewhat reviving a short-lived fad from the mid-1970s when they inscribed with a black sharpie “Frank the Boulder” on our store’s doorstop. A birthdate was added, and Frank’s fan base expanded as word spread about this new “pet” across from Pet-Go-Round.
Students continued visiting Frank, adding to his character with peace signs, musical notes, etc. These visits also brought in sales. Eventually, the fad died again, and Frank was moved to my garage where he reverted to his old incarnation as a 5-pound doorstop.
Build it and they will listen
We called him “Mike the Shipbuilder” because he would engage in show-and-tell sessions about the models — 231 models, to be exact, and drawings he created, whether the audience was interested or not, something he found hard to distinguish. Heading for the entrance didn’t guarantee an end to the session, as Mike would grab another of his creations and start back up.
He never tired from bringing up that pivotal moment when I opened the large box of a B-24 Liberator model to show a ready-to-buy customer during Christmas. Upon seeing the sheer number of parts and work involved, she quickly changed her mind.
Other shoppers looked on in surprise as Mike rose to the occasion: “I’ll build it!” Shortly thereafter, he lugged the finished model to the store — intact, unlike others damaged from his treacherous bicycle journey. He tested customers’ nerves, but in conversation they discovered he had a lot to offer.
One couple employed at the local shipyard were so impressed with his passion, they returned to honor him a ship and sub fashioned from brass used to make the actual ones, usually reserved for captains.
The ceremony got a boost when impromptu another customer professionally presented Mike the awards.
As I behold my souvenir purple-cushioned seat from Pembroke Mall’s long-gone movie theatre, a reel like the one once part of its brick and mortar continues to loop warm memories.