The Chicken Story (Part II)

A doorknob makes a good hammer, if you can’t find a screwdriver

Yesterday, I introduced you to the Willingham clan’s patriarch, R. A. Willingham, Sr., or as we know him, Grandpa. Or Grandpa Al. Or Grandpa George. Even though the R. in R. A. doesn’t stand for George.

My dad emailed last night with a few more details to fill out Grandpa’s CV:

Your grandpa had one of the top Boy Scout troops in the city of Chicago. The troop was in danger being disbanded before he took over.  My cousin Norman was a member of that troop and said that he was the best scoutleader he had ever had.

He once told me that his dad told him, “a door knob makes a good hammer, if you can’t find a screwdriver.”

He probably has held every office that churches require, including Sunday School teacher, deacon, elder, and Sunday School superintendent.  He took the office of elder seriously and willingly would fill the pulpit in the absence of the pastor.

He played the inn keeper in the Christmas pageant at Maplewood Baptist (Chicago) when I was about eight years old.  He grew a big dark black beard just for the show.

He and grandma Edna were also instrumental in starting a church in Oregon, IL.

With that, I’ll give you Part II of The Chicken Story. If you didn’t read yesterday’s “guest post from a 102-year-old guy,” click back to do so and learn that a fella can never have too many hankies. And stop back tomorrow, when we’ll get to talking about chickens and the punchline of the story.

That’s why they call ‘em hamburgers

by Al Willingham

Grandpa and Grandma outside the dorm at Minnesota Bible College, Minneapolis MN, circa. 1950s

A grocery store in those days was a far cry from what we think of with a grocery store today. In many respects a grocery store today has many of the same features. Most grocery stores sell everything. You buy stationery, you buy stuff for your kitchen, there’s a pharmacy and so on and so forth.

‘Course they didn’t have pharmacies in that time. The doctor was his own pharmacist. He fixed his own medicine. And incidentally, the medicines that they gave me to take were liquid. And I’m telling you, after about two doses of their liquid medicine you got well in a hurry so you didn’t have to take any more. You might have needed it but you didn’t want any more.

Anyhow, [my uncle's] store was sort of a general store. There was a certain amount of clothing and dishes and odds and ends. But instead of you taking a basket and going around the store and picking up what you wanted, you went to a place called a counter and he or one of his two clerks would stand with a little sales tab in his hand. If you wanted some rice he’d write that down, and after four or five items he’d go and get them and lay them on the counter. Then he’d go get whatever else it was you wanted and take care of you.

A little money exchanged in that store. People would say “Well I do my tradin’ over at Val’s.” My uncle had a peculiar name, his name was Valentiny. He was born on Valentine’s Day. As soon as he grew up a little he changed his name to Val.

He bought everything he could in bulk. Sugar came in a barrel. Flour came in sacks. He’d buy a car load of flour at a time and half a car load of sugar. One of my jobs in the store was to sack up the sugar and keep it on the shelf ahead of time. He’d put it up in one and five pound bags, stiff brown bags that they sacked it up in. And he showed me how to sack it up to get just exactly one pound and twist the end and tie it with a string that came off a ball that hung on the ceiling. My job was to see that the sugar counter was always well filled because that was one of the popular things.

Grandpa and Lil with Isaac, circa. 1998

The automobile was just coming into town and I mean probably one in 20 residents had a car. But he had a gas pump out there and it was my duty to fill up a tank of gas. The tank had marks on the side of it so you’d fill it up full and then drain it down into the car that you were servicing. And I think at that time gas was probably maybe ten or eleven cents a gallon.

My other duty was just to see to it that the papers and things were picked up off of the floor and keep the place as neat as possible. Next door was a butcher shop that was part of the store but had a separate entrance from inside and outside. One of Val’s brothers operated the butcher shop. I was also to keep that place tidy. I’d be responsible for checking into the meat market, and if there was any droppings on the floor I was supposed to pick them up. They kept sawdust on the floor and once a week they’d change it. Otherwise they just kept adding sawdust during the week.

They made deliveries to people in town all week. People would call in and they’d want pork chops for dinner. He had a route that would get delivered by 11:00 so the lady of the house could have dinner ready when most everyone went home for lunch.

Val was very popular in town. His store was located at a place called Five Points. If you asked where some part of town was, being a stranger, they’d say, “Do you know where Five Points is?”

“Oh yeah, I know where Five Points is.”

“Oh well, you go six blocks east from there and four blocks south and you’ll find the place that you’re looking for.”

Val owned all five corners. There was a blacksmith shop and sort of a general storage place, and then he had what they called this stand. It was the beginning of McDonalds. They  would fry up sandwiches —  called ‘em hamburgers because they would mix beef and pork together. That’s how hamburgers got their name.

Grandpa and Grandma (left) with friends

And this little store sold chewing gum and candy and perhaps other sandwiches I don’t remember. Coca Cola was just getting into the business and they had Coca Cola and cream soda and it seems like there was three or four others. You had a little container and you dropped a dime in there and you could slide the bottle over to a certain place. If the dime went through and released a lock and you could get the bottle out.

- to be continued -