During much of the 20th century drug stores played a vital part in rural America, especially in North Texas. The druggist, never called a pharmacist, was a surrogate doctor prescribing the right cough syrup or liniment for aches and pains. He knew what to take for a toothache or how to soothe poison ivy. In fact, everyone addressed both doctors and druggists as “Doc.”
But that wasn’t the only function of a drug store. The makeup counter was a source of wonder for young girls and a necessity for women. All those creams and powders promised magical beauty for females from Texarkana to Childress. It was like going to a real department store in Dallas or Fort Worth, only much less expensive and much closer. The lady behind the counter really knew how to put on her makeup. Sometimes she would give free demonstrations. You would step out onto the sidewalk feeling like a movie star.
There were racks of greeting cards, display cases of costume jewelry, plus plenty of colorful wrapping paper. And then there were the comic books and magazines. Seldom was a reader disturbed and told to buy before perusing the goods. Somehow my mother always seemed to be ready to go before I finished reading. But Mother wasn’t keen on comic books; they weren’t real literature to her.
Who could forget the soda fountain and lunch counter? That was the highlight of a visit as far as I was concerned. My maternal grandparents lived on a ranch west of Archer City. Almost every day my grandfather went into town to get the mail. If I was there we went to the drugstore that was conveniently located next door to the post office. We would enjoy a single dip vanilla or strawberry ice cream cone before getting into the pickup and heading back to the ranch.
Later when I was in high school in Jacksboro everyone went to the drugstore for lunch. We often piled up to ten girls in the car and headed to City Drug about a mile from the old high school. Who cared what we ordered, we were so busy talking and giggling.
Clerks who worked in the courthouse across the street dropped into the drugstore for coffee breaks and a little shopping. It was a place where men gathered to talk price of cattle, politics and any hopeful prospects of rainfall.
On Saturdays kids converged on the drugstore when the double feature matinee was over. My dad told me that in his day before World War II, couples would go to the drugstore after the movies. I read in an old newspaper that high school students in the twenties had ice cream parties in the drug stores with delicate pastries as well as sodas and other treats. It was quite the thing to do.
Today most towns have big box pharmacies with similar goods but without the special feeling. Druggists counsel you about a new prescription but seldom ever recommend something to put on poison ivy. Maybe the clerks know your name but probably they don’t. I know there are very few soda fountains still around. But in Jacksboro the old City Drug Store is still in business, in fact by all indication, a booming business. The place has modernized somewhat; but the counter and booths are full at lunch. Comic books can still be found inside the front door. Makeup and costume jewelry tempt customers. It’s comforting to find some things never change.