THE DRUG STORE

Evening Star, Issue 21320, 26 January 1933, Page 2

THE DRUG STORE

A GREAT INSTITUTION OF AMERICAN LIFE I had not been m the United States three days before they told me whenever I wanted to buy anything to try a drug store (writes an English visitor to the ‘ Manchester Guardian ’). “ You can get anything there,” they said, “ from a tractor to a two-cent stamp.” I am unable to vouch for the first part of their claim, for, fortunately, I haven’t needed a tractor yet. I must say, however, that these drug stores do a roaring trade in stamps. Only last Thursday I called at one for a live-cent stamp for ray weekly English letter. “ Sorry, but we’ve got no fives,” the clerk told me, “ only threes.” I asked to see them. The face designs of postage stamps nowhere change so frequently as in America. These three were a pleasing blue variety depicting an Olympic runner doing a snappy getaway. 1 looked them over and took a selection. All the same, 1 maintain that some of these drug stores are not all they are cracked up to be. I still remember the look given me by a drug store clerk only last April in Butte, Montana, when I tried to purchase a simple, ordinary automobile jack. “Well, then,” you ask, “ just what can you get in drug stores?” I will tell you, so far as 1 can remember. Let us take a downtown store in the throes of the noonday rush. As you probably know, the most important section of any American drug store is the soda fountain and lunch counter. You see a long counter running all the way down one side of the store, and a large number of stools—l forget how many—and not only is every, stool occupied, but there is a tidy crowd with a hungry look in its eye standing around behind. Thev, too, want stools. You probably wonder what the stool-occupiers are doing. A rapid census tells us that over 50 per cent, of them are drinking through straws a collection of malted milk shakes, cocoa colas, and ice cream sodas of sundry flavours. Several are munching sandwiches, pineapple and cottage-cheese salads, and pie-a-la-mode accompanied by the inevitable coffee, for the Americans are a coffee-drinking nation, while not a few are consuming ice cream sundaes, banana splits, Lovers’ Delights, Roosevelt Specials, and the like. At the far end may be seen a lone soup-eater. This is the busiest pai’t of the drug store throughout the day, and for most of th© night, too, for that matter. Here is where the money is made. THE CIGAR COUNTER.

The next most important part of the establishment is, perhaps, the cigar counter. Hero may be purchased fortythree different makes of cigars, ten, or maybe eleven, brands of cigarettes, an assortment of 50 cent pipes, and tobacco in many-liued cans. There is also a tempting display of five-cent candy bars and eighteen different kinds of chewing gum. From here we proceed round the other side of the weighing machine (correst weight stamped on card with your fortune on the other side) to the books and art department. This consists of an imposing array of novels by the more popular authors of the day, and a selection of rather doubtful-looking but neatly framed pictures selling for 75 cents pr so. But do not confuse this with the magazine stand. An American magazine gallery in full dress is a sight to be remembered. Yon will invariably find one corner of tho stand weighted down with a' formidable stack of ‘ Saturday Evening Posts.’ (By the way, this weekly can now be procured from slot machines; you insert your nickel, pull a lever, and out pops your ‘ Saturday Evening Post.’) Behind this rare row upon row of the brightly covered magazines so dear to the American reading public. ‘ Zippy Stories,’ ‘ Hotsy Totsy Stories,’ and innumerable varieties of murder, gang, and detective stories. True love, sea, air, and Wiki West stories are well represented, and twenty-two different Hollywood screen magazines. In addition to these is the usual group of best sellers, such as * Collier’s,’ ‘ Liberty,’ ‘ Life,’ and ‘Cosmopolitan,’ and specimens of that rather quaint type of humour which suddenly became so popular about a year ago—‘ Ballyhoo,’ ‘ Hooey,’ ‘ Slapstick,’ and ‘ Bunk.’ Drug stores also frequently act as information bureaux to those who have got lost in the streets of a town and want to find out where they are. In addition, they are useful to telephone from, and make ideal trysting places. “ I’ll meet you in tho drug store, corner of Fifth and Broadway,” one may tell the girl friend. And to such appointments you should always be on time, otherwise you may find yourself out of pocket to the extent of two ice cream sodas and a Manhattan Special. That, you might think, covers the activities of the modern drug store. But it is not quite all. I was in a downtown drug store one clay last week buying an alarm clock, and I made a mental note of some of the “ lines ” they were carrying. I admit I can’t remember them all, but they included bathing caps, shoes, and jewellery; cameras, stationery, and permanent waves; straw hats (if you are a lady) to keep the sun off, watches, and theatre tickets. Also golf balls, tennis balls, and electric radiators; fountain pens, poker chips, and electric toasters, as well as many, many other things I do not recall. Ah, there is something I had almost forgotten—the drug counter. I must say that no matter what sort of a drug store I have been in I have nearly always noticed a drug counter somewhere about. But, frankly, I would hardly care to buy my drugs there, and should certainly hesitate long before calling there with my doctor’s prescription. They might give me an ice cream soda by mistake.