Center Store memories from Merland Howe and Allan Anderson (2015)

Center Store memories from Merland Howe and Allan Anderson (2015)

LIVING HERE

The magazine of life in Southeast South Dakota and Northeast Nebraska

Winter 2015

CENTER STORE

Everything needed to keep body and soul together – from butter to hamburger to licorice sticks and baby chicks – could be found in one little store.

BY MARY ANN HOEBELHEINRICH

Small mom and pop stores have always had a strong presence in rural communities. It wasn't unusual for someone to open a store in his or her front room, often with a single gas pump in the front yard. From dawn to dusk the sign in the window usually said "Open," unless the owner needed a shower or a nap.

The Center Store, located in northern McCook County in South Dakota, and Merland Howe sort of grew up together. Merland's parents, Ben and Mayme, ran the establishment in the I930s. Stocked with pretty much everything you needed – staples like sugar, flour, milk and bread, a cube of butter for baking cookies, and a large selection of candy for the kids – it was always a popular place, never short excitement.

The gas pump at the store required you to hand-pump ten gallons into a large glass cylinder, then it was dispensed by gravity through the hose when the nozzle was squeezed. Five gallons for a dollar was common, six when it was on special. The ground by the pump slanted down to the north," Merland once shared. "I suppose I was four or so and I would give the cars a little push from behind when they pulled away from the pump. I'm sure I was warned not to do this, but I thought I was being a big help getting the cars on their way,

[Photo of Center Store]

"Of all the different salesmen who called at the Center Store, my favorite was Norris . . . he had every kind of cookie you could imagine – Dutch Windmills, marshmallow cookies covered with chocolate and gingersnaps."

– MERLAND HOWE

[Photo of Anderson and Howe grandsons with Grandpa Anderson.]

Allan Anderson, front left, and Merland Howe, front right, got into plenty of mischief at Center Store.

Sometimes their Grandpa Anderson, front center, and cousins, left to right in rear; Lyle Howe, Laurel Howe, and Vincent Anderson took part in their shenanigans.

Ralph Klingberg had gassed up and when he came out of the store and got in his car, I got behind to give it the usual send-off.

"Ralph didn't see that I was helping. As the car started rolling ahead, I began pushing it," said Merland. "The problem was Ralph had it in reverse and was going to back up to the air hose located at the south end of the building. 1 tell down directly behind the left real- wheel and the car backed over both my legs before my screaming brought him to a stop. Nothing was broken but I did have some bruised and skinned up legs for a Thank goodness cars were smaller and lighter in the early thirties."

The store was a small wooden building, partitioned in half. The wares were out front, and the remainder was living quarters for the Howe family, with a second level consisting of two bedrooms and a storage room.

One of the bedrooms was often rented out to the teacher during the school year. "Occasionally, my cousin Merland and I would steal into her room to sniff the colognes emanating front the fancy atomizers on her night stand. We were of such naive confidence, thinking that no one could possibly discover our indiscretions," Allan Anderson, Cypress, California, said chuckling.

In later years, an addition to the south side of the store was used as a cream and egg station, and to store the boxes of tiny chirping chicks that would arrive in the spring.

And of course there was the outhouse. "It always seemed to be located too far assay from the house in the bitter cold winter, and too close in the slimmer when your sense of smell could guide you to it," said Merland.

A large coal furnace stood in one corner of the store and there was a room heater in the dining room that provided heat for the living quarters. "A bottle-gas cook stove sat in the small kitchen, and in the basement there was a large cast-iron cook stove that Mother used for boiling water for washing clothes. She also used it to do a large amount of canning for our family. We always had a garden that provided a substantial amount of our food." said Merland.

The store was a popular gathering place for a few regulars that would come in after supper and engage in a few friendly games of checkers on a large homemade checkerboard. Two of the most proficient players were Albin Schroeder and Elmer Larson.

"Dad also had a couple punchboards for those who felt lucky and had a few nickels or dimes to spend," said Merland. "The one person who had the most. fun with it was Fred Frericks. He would bus a dollar's worth of punches and clean out a square, which entitled him to a box of candy. Then he would start on another that looked promising. The final punch on the board always earned the largest prize of a five-pound Dos of fine candy. Fred would spend several dollars winning a bunch of candy, and give it away to whoever was around. He especially favored the school teacher that stayed at the store. She was always the benefactor of his harvest from the punchhoard," said Merland.

"Whenever you saw a Model T Ford come chugging down the road in Center, leaning over on the passenger side by about 30 degrees, you knew immediately who was coming," said Allan. "Phil Jacobson, his extremely obese wife and sometimes their son, Roly, who always had to ride on the trunk, were arriving.

"It [the outhouse] always seemed to be located too far away from the house in the bitter cold winter, and too close in the summer when your sense of smell could guide you to it."

– MERLAND HOWE

"This was the time for everyone to spring into action. Two sturdy chairs were brought from the dining room and placed side by side nest to the grocery counter. Time permitting, any basket of grapes or crate of any kind of fruit was hurriedly put behind the counter. When she was finally eased out of the leaning 'T', Mrs. Jacobson would wobble her way into the store and plop her five-hundred plus pounds onto the two chairs set out for her," continued Allan.

While at the store, she would nibble away at whatever was on the counter. If she didn't see any grapes she would ask for a sample and cat a large cluster or two before ordering. The same procedure held for hamburger. The large 20 pound tray of hulk ground beef was brought from the refrigerator and placed on the counter to weigh the amount she wanted to purchase. All during the process, Mrs. Phil would be sampling the raw hamburger, a handful at a time. She also ate her share of bulk candy and peppermint chocolates before buying a sackful!.

While at the store, she would want to make a telephone call. The phone was in the dining room, so two more chairs were lined up in front of the wall phone. She would sir down and have someone ring the phone for her. With the receiver to her ear, she ended tip about three or four feet from the mouthpiece, and had to shout from her seated position for the called parry to hear her. On another occasion, she had to go to the hospital with an apparent appendicitis attack, but the doctors wouldn't operate on her because of her extreme weight.

"When her shopping was done and they were loading the Model T for the return trip home, Phil would have to get behind her and, putting his shoulder to her behind, he had all he could to wedge her back on board. Down the road they would go, while leaning ominously toward the ditch," said Allan.

During the prohibition era, bootlegger Pete Hanson supplied booze for those who could not purchase it legally. It was an additional source of income for him, which was perhaps better than fanning.

When Pete's supply of whiskey was starting to get low, he would make another run to his supplier in Canada. His automobile was modified specifically for this purpose. Springs were stiffened to the point where, when fully loaded, no sag was apparent in the appearance of the car. Also an auxiliary fuel tank was built into the car so it would make the 500-mile run without having to stop for fuel. After loading his vehicle with booze and refueling, he would head back to his farm near Center.

"He was one of the better gas customers at the store because when he fueled up before one of his runs, he would take several nines as much as the average fill-up patron. And he was a cash customer, which made his business more than welcome," said Merland.

The distribution system for the booze was always rather indirect. If somebody made a purchase, they would lease their Moue' in a designated culvert, by the third fencepost from the corner, or whatever drop-point Pete deter-mined was safest. Then the money was picked up and the liquor left in its place without any direct contact between buyer and seller. The local law undoubtedly knew of his enterprise. Maybe Pete helped out by contributing to the sheriff's re-election campaign fund.

One day Merland and his brothers took a 30-gallon drum from the shed behind the store and carefti1ly removed the top. They nailed it about ten feet up the side of the building, then built a braced platform to hold the barrel when it was tilled with water.

They placed one end of a rubber hose inside the drum, and ran the other end through a knothole in the siding, which stopped about five feet off the floor of the shed. They carried pails of-water from the cistern, climbed the ladder and dumped it into the barrel.

After a few hours of sun the water was warm enough to be used for a shower. "We sucked on the hose to get the siphon action running. Then we put a clamp on it to slow the flow or completely stop it. This was used several times, but the work of filling the barrel made it questionable as to its worth," said Merland.

Peggy was a mutt, mostly rat-terrier, that spent most of her time in the store, greeting customers and getting handouts. She was an accomplished beggar who could con certain customers out of a treat whenever they came in. One who spoiled Peggy the most was O.G. Gustafson, the carpenter who lived just east of the store and south of the church.

"When O.G. came in he would buy a small sack of chocolate candy, and then tease Peggy before sharing with her. He had a heavy Swedish accent and would say ‘Pedgie, va vant a shoulate?’ and then made her dance In circles to earn her treat. Peggy knew she would get some chocolates so she would jump around and dance in expectation of her coming treat," said Merland.

Peggy also liked peanuts, in the shell, which she would chew up and spit out the shells. They came in large 50-pound burlap bags.

"On one occasion, my mother blamed me for a pile of peanut shells in the corner behind the heating stove. I denied having anything to do with this mess, and I don't think I was believed for some time," said Merland.

"I was finally vindicated when Peggy was seen by Dad getting into the peanut sack, then heading to her warm spot behind the stove with four or five peanuts to her mouth. She proceeded to eat them, and the pile of shucks grew. The blame was then lifted from my young shoulders. After that incident, the peanut sack was kept tightly closed, and Peggy had to beg for an occasional peanut instead of pilfering them on her own," said Merland.

Several times during the Thirties, a roving caravan of Gypsies were active in the Center area. There were usually at least six or eight cars and pickups that formed the gypsy procession. Their vehicles were piled high with crates and boxes tied to the roots and sides as they roamed the countryside, stopping at farms that looked vulnerable to their tactics. They would confront whoever was home at a farmstead and say they wanted to buy eggs, or chickens, or they simply wanted a drink of water from the well. When 20 or 30 gypsy men and women left their vehicles and swarmed all over the farm yard and into buildings, there was little a farm couple could do to defend their property.

"When word of their coming reached the store, the gas pump was hurriedly locked, as was the shed and all the doors to the store and house. Shades were pulled over the store windows and lights turned off so everything looked closed. The gypsies would knock on the door and say loudly that they came to buy gas, but after no response from within, they would move on down the road. Whichever direction they traveled was immediately relayed on the parry telephone lines to warn whoever was on their route,' said Allan.

Immediately north of the store was a farm field that belonged to Ernest Carlson. One day, the field was being plowed with an old john Deere tractor equipped with steel lug wheels. Connie Skoglund, who must have been about 20, was operating the tractor for Ernest.

"Being a pesky and curious four-bear old, I climbed through the those to get a better look as the plowing progressed," said Merland. “Connie stopped the tractor and I asked if I could ride along for a few rounds. Permission was granted and I stood behind Connie, on the drawbar, and hung on tightly to the iron seat.

“After a couple trips up and down the field Connie decided it was time for me to get off. I thought I would be smart so I disengaged the long clutch lever. just then the tractor hit a rock and lurched, throwing me off. I fell to the ground behind the tractor. just ahead of the plow. The plow wheel was just touching my neck when Connie got the clutch lever disengaged and stopped the tractor.” Merland continued.

[Photo of Swedish Lutheran Church, Center.]

The Center Store was a popular hangout for locals after Sunday services at the

Swedish Lutheran Church. Folks fueled up their automobiles, purchased grocery

items and after a good conversation or two were on their way.

"Thoroughly frightened and crying loudly, Connie picked me up and carried me back to the store. I think Connie was as shook up as I, and once again I learned a lesson. There were no more dangerous hitch-hikes on the back of tractors for me. Besides, there were so many other things to keep me in mischief I didn't need tractors," said Merland.

During the Depression of the 1930s, the WPA program rebuilt the road past the store. An elevating grader, pulled by a large crawler tractor, was used to move dirt. It shaved dirt from the ditch, then deposited it in the middle of the road by means of a conveyor belt.

One weekend the equipment was left parked in the schoolyard south of the store and it made an attractive place to play "road builder". The elevating grader had a large hand wheel to raise and lower the conveyor, which was locked in a raised position with the foot pedal. Releasing the foot pedal was accomplished by stepping firmly on ii to disengage a ratchet.

"While on the machine, playing with everything, I succeeded in releasing the foot pedal. The conveyor started to slowly descend, picking up speed as it fell, and the hand wheel was spinning at an ever-increasing rate of acceleration," said Merland. "The conveyor finally crashed to the ground, cracking the main wooden pulley where die belt was. This was my clue to get off the machinery and stay away the rest of the weekend.

"When the workers returned on Monday, it didn't take them long to figure out what had happened. I think they felt lucky no one was under the conveyor, and fortunate I hadn't tried to grab the hand wheel to stop it. It would probably have broken my arms or worse. It took them most of the day to repair things, but after that, the conveyor was always lowered at night," said Merland.

"Of all the different salesmen who called at Center Store, my favorite was Norris, from the Manchester Biscuit Company, in Sioux Falls. When he opened up his large black suitcase, there were at least a dozen velvet-lined trays, with cookies displayed on each one – marshmallow cookies covered with chocolate, ginger-snaps, Dutch Windmills – every kind of cookie you could imagine. Other salesmen made regular stops, but Norris was certainly my favorite," said Merland.

With electricity available at the store, it was a logical step to put in an electric-powered air compressor to help take care of the customers' needs. Word spread around and several neighbors came in to try this new convenience on their car tires.

August Shultz, an old German gentlemen with a very heavy accent, drove his Model T Ford to the store one afternoon and came rushing in "'Ach, Ben,' he said in his broad accent. 'Ben! I shust heard about it. I vant chu to come blonwst upen mein rubbers.' This interpreted to mean he wanted to have air put in his tires. August thought the compressor was wonderful and clime back regularly to have his ‘rubbers blowst upon,’" said Allan, chuckling.

The Center Store remained a landmark for many years. Folks stopped for a sackof sugar, a gallon of milk or maybe they were simply looking for a good conversation. Even though it no longer stands today, the fun times, mischief and penny candy will always be a sweet memory.

(Hoebelheinrich, Mary Ann, "Center Store", "Living Here" magazine (Yankton,

SD: Winter 2015), 12:4:20-25.)