Capp’s Corner Store

As I grew up, the corner store played an important role in the neighborhood. Our last minute needs: coffee, butter, bread and cigarettes were purchased from the family-owned Capp’s Grocery. Parents sent kids to retrieve phoned-in orders or hand-scribbled lists. (Yes, we even picked up our parent's cigarettes.)

From age six to twelve I walked the two blocks: up a hill and across one semi-busy street. The wooden building had a small painted sign over the swinging doors and several half windows across the front. A single gas pump stood by a one-door garage on one side of the building. Out front, the gravel parking area held three to four cars.
The store had a hanging light fixtures, a low, messy counter and rows of shelves organized by product type: canned goods, bread, paper products, and such. It smelled of a mixture of dust, cardboard and ground meat. The wooden floor creaked in several places, especially along the route from the front door to the cooler in back which held milk, cream, butter, cheese and eggs.
Along side the cash register were the colorful packs of gum: yellow Juicy Fruit, green Wrigley’s Spearmint, blue Beman’s Pepsin, white Clove and blue Black Jack. Penny candy stood on the counter in open glass bowls. The ice cream treats filled a nearby free-standing freezer with a clear plastic top that let me see everything inside. To select a treat I’d slide open one side and reach in.
Mr. Capp, a short man with a receding hairline, wore a soiled butcher apron that covered his pants and shoes: one size did not fit all. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he tolerated kids pawing through the penny candy and opening the ice cream treats slider, letting the cold air escape..
When I arrived to pick up Mom’s order, he had it bagged on the counter. If I had permission, I bought a Dixie cup of orange sherbet and vanilla ice cream. Once every week or so, one of my parents walked up and settled the bill.
Mr. Capp’s fresh produce arrived in crates in open-backed trucks and consisted of carrots, yellow onions and potatoes grown locally or from nearby Seattle or Tacoma. Most shriveled before being purchased . Seasonal produce: apples from eastern Washington, oranges from California and bananas from South America disappeared on the day each arrived.
The canned food labels I remember are S&W, Campbell’s, Van de Camp, Del Monte and Hormel canned Spam. Milk and Coke came in glass bottles; the dreaded Vienna sausages peaked out from their small glass jars. There were no frozen or ethnic foods.
Bread arrived in small delivery trucks. Sunbeam used bright yellow trucks with the face of a smiling blonde girl painted on each side. The colorful Wonder bread trucks were painted to mimic the bread wrapped; red, yellow and blue circles over a white background. Both breads tasted like fluffy air and folded easily in small hands.
A small meat counter took up one wall. When we bought hamburger, Mr. Capp ground our order behind his glass-front his meat counter. He’d grab a handful of beef, push it through his grinder, weighed it and wrapped it in white butcher paper. Same for pork sausage.
We seldom bought Mr. Capps’ meats. Instead we picked up meat on our Saturday treks to the A&P (Atlantic and Pacific). Dad toted the heavier bags along the five-block walk leaving the lighter ones for Mom and me.
Mr. Capp’s store and the A&P were vastly different. At Mr. Capp’s we gathered arm loads of items and placed them on the counter and he bagged them. The A&P had shopping baskets to gather up purchases and people bagged them for us. At Capp’s, we paid down our bill weekly; at A&P you paid for every item you bought on the day you bought it. Mr. Capp sat on a stool behind his counter where he tallied our purchases in scraps of paper. The A&P had a box near the front of the store where the manager stood to oversee the store as well as the cashiers who rang up purchases and handed us paper receipts.
Capp’s store stood on my school route. After school, many classmates bought treats on their way home. Since my Mom made my snacks, I never stopped in. But, sometimes, if I was sent to the store, I’d be allowed to spend five cents for a Dixie cup or I’d spend my own twelve cents and buy a deluxe Raspberry or Chocolate ice cream sundae. When I only had a penny, I brought a Lick’em-ade straw and sucked or coughed down the Jell-o-like powder.

When Mr. Capp sold his store to a convenience franchise, we stopped shopping there. The new owner wasn’t from the neighborhood so he didn’t talk with kids. Also, he wanted to be paid as each purchase was made. He brought in packaged meat and new counters. By then we owned a car, so going to the A&P or driving to the locally-owned T& M (Ted and Mel’s) was just as easy, plus it had a greater selection, lower prices and friendlier faces.