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Vintage neighborhood stores
Where moms and pops cornered the market

Kilpatrick’s in Gulfport, MS, circa 1957. (Source: Donald King)
Greetings, fellow roadies!
This Sunday we’re going “shopping”, as in shop-hopping to some idyllic “mom-and-pop” stores.
Whether you call them corner stores, general stores, or something else, these family-owned retailers have been the heartbeats of their neighborhoods and town squares for centuries.
We share stories of the shops we grew up with and tell tales of notable ones from around the world. And we look at one particular store that put up quite the facade!
Ready to shop? Let’s go!
Your Curio Roadies,
Wendy & Kate
This week in Curio:
Troves & Tales
More than a corner store.
Super Saver was our trusted neighbor.
10-year-old me stood ready, flag in hand, change pouch in my pocket. I had just walked the five-minute stroll from my parents’ house on our dead-end street to the main road. It was time for the annual Independence Day parade.

Buffalonians watching the parade on Broadway in the early ‘80s.
But wait! I need a snack. A drink. A Twinkie! A quick run into our corner store and Super Saver saved the day!
The Super Saver corner store has been an East Buffalo staple for decades, and was a core fixture of my childhood. I passed it by everyday walking to and from school.
It stood tall, operating from the bottom level of a “house”, like so many shops and businesses of the 20th century. With a lone cashier station at the front and the large butcher section in the back, Super Saver had everything you needed in its handful of aisles.
I made many trips to that store whenever we ran out of something, especially in the crunch time of dinner prep. Milk, bread crumbs, an onion… For our family, Super Saver was the “neighbor” you went to for that “cup of sugar”.
And it was THE place to get raw beef liver to make liver and onions. Mom and Dad shopped at the big box grocer up the road, where they bought all kinds of chicken, beef, and pork. But if the menu called for liver and onions, Super Saver was the only store to buy it from.
I can still see the butcher in his white coat slipping four pieces of liver into a clear plastic bag and then wrapping it all up in paper before handing it to me over the meat counter. I made my way to the register, grabbing that can of bread crumbs from the shelf. With my ingredients in a brown paper sack, I walked out of the store, turned the corner, and headed home.

From baking to breakfast to the butcher shop, Super Saver had you covered.
Dad and I sometimes popped in to Super Saver together after some other outing. There was a small parking lot behind the store that held about six cars. Dad squeezed his long sedan into a spot, and we walked around to the front entrance. A couple bananas, Dad’s pack of Erik’s cigars, and few lottery tickets were all we “needed”.
We scratched the scratch-off tickets before leaving the store, on a tall post next to the window. I recall many visits where Dad and I stood there for 30 minutes or more — scratching off winner after winner, $1 here, $5 there. We finally left after the winning stopped, or when we were lucky enough to win more than $20, or when we thought we’d get in trouble with mom for not being home yet.
Looking back, it’s quite possible these Super Saver visits with Dad were more custom than necessity.

Super Saver — the mom-and-pop store of my youth — still stands according to Google. On this very corner I watched many a parade in the 1980s.
A store like Super Saver was a dime a dozen back in that era. When the small chain of Wilson Farms “convenience” stores opened up a few blocks down, we were fascinated by its modern vibe. But I also remember neighbors’ comments about their lesser quality and service, and about concern they’d run Super Saver out of business.
Super Saver has yet to close, based on what I find in online searches. It has gone through phases of new ownership, and now has bars on its windows.
I wonder if the shop fosters the same warmth for its current community as it did for us back in the day. I hope that it does, and I’m glad the store is still in business. It’s one of the few remaining landmarks of the streets I called home.
Record Shop
Keeping up a facade.
The BEST company remains most…crooked?

Store patrons enter and exit under the raised right corner of the BEST “Tilt” catalog showroom. (Photos: Baltimoreorless)
The BEST company building in Maryland — demolished 25+ years ago — remains the straight-away winner of the “largest tilted facade for a shop”, according to Guinness World Records. Boasting a 5-degree slant, the facade was 73m long and weighed 450 tons.
Designed by James Wines and his SiTE architecture firm in 1978, it was one of nine buildings commissioned by BEST Products, Inc.. Sydney and Frances Lewis started BEST in 1957.
Both Lewises and the company were quite the art collectors. Much of the 20th century art they acquired is on display at the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, where you can snack at the namesake BEST café.
General Store
A century of Mallam’s in Mullumbimby
Australian family-run shop was a community hub.
When fellow shop owner Patsy Nossiter learned of Sue Mallam’s passing in 2021, she was deeply saddened. “Sue’s shop was two doors down from mine before she moved across the road,” Patsy reflected. “She always had a smile to greet you and some fascinating stories from her past.”
Those stories, we presume, included tales of Mallam family businesses and their impact on what some call “The Biggest Little Town in Australia”. Mullumbimby in New South Wales is about 400 miles northeast of Sydney. And for a century, it was home to what began as Geo Mallam & Co Pty Ltd..

Frontside of a postcard bearing the image of the Mallam general store as it is appeared circa 1910, according to collector, Vetraio50.
Sue’s grandfather, George Septimus Mallam, opened his general store in 1904, later building a brick storefront to house it in 1910. By the 1930’s it was the hub of the farming community. In 1937, The Northern Star commended Mallam for seeing the town’s business potential, crediting his investment as playing “a great part in the establishment of the Mullumbimby of today.”
Historian Frank Mills recalls the original Mallam’s experience, one that seems ironically similar in some ways to the shopping experience we adopted during the Covid-19 pandemic:
There were big glass display windows at the front – it was like a miniature department store.
Customers would stand at the counter and order their shopping, which was wrapped up in brown paper.
Home deliveries were made once a week on a horse and cart.
Cash registers did not exist and the store had an unusual payment system. There were a whole lot of wires that led from the upstairs office to the departments below. When you paid for something, the staff would pull a cord and zoom a little container like a jam jar to the office for your change.
(Zooming jam jars…early drive-through bank teller? Hmmm…)
With George’s three sons helping to manage the store, and its surrounding community adapting to mid 20th century society, Mallam’s shifted to a self-service shopping model. It eventually changed its name to Mallam’s Supermarket in the 1970s.

Mallam’s Supermarket circa 2011 (Photo: Kate O’neill)
Sue’s mother, June — wife of George’s youngest son, Charlie — was also entrepreneurial. Around the same time Mallam’s was modernizing, she opened The Budget Shop — a women’s retail clothing store, later known as Fashion Corner. Sue eventually took over the shop, renaming it Sue M’s Boutique in 2011.
That same year, her grandfather’s store would close its doors for good. Mallam’s market was sold to Woolworth’s after plans to move to a bigger space at a new location drew pushback from local councils and businesses. Controversy seemed to come from all angles, including those desperate to preserve the way things had always been.

Protestors lend their opinion to the fate of Mallam’s market. (Photo: Bruce MacKenzie, ABC North Coast)
Australia’s Echo suggests Sue M’s Boutique still operates, offering store hours and a detailed listing, although the address doesn’t bring up results for it in Google Maps.

Mallam’s name remains on the building on Burringbar Street, according to Google Maps, but it’s unclear a Mallam’s business still operates out of it.
Regardless of the changes and closures, the Mallam family left an undeniable impact on its community through its stores. Like most neighborhood shops of an earlier era, Mallam’s had generations of actual moms and pops invested in providing meaningful service, and in caring about the lives and needs of their customers.

The Mallam family influenced Mullumbimby, New South Wales, Australia for over a century.
That kind of presence in a community lives on long after the doors are closed for good, in the stories people tell.
Like the stories poets told back in 1940 and again in 2004, of the Mallam’s embedded in their day-to-day, their culture, their roots.
And like the stories Patsy Nossiter tells about a special woman named Sue.
Walking into Mallam’s Grocery,
Mullumbimby, you can buy Byron
Bay Chai tea, packets of gluten free
hippie biscuits, thick mosquito coils,
incense, tea tree oil, tins of tiger
balm and rennet-less organic cheese.
The soya chips and tofu burgers
come with mango milkshakes, do you want
sprouts with that, or grated beetroot?
Playground
“Social” reminiscing — yay or nay?
Social media sites are full of discussion with many a user waxing nostalgic about the mom-and-pop / corner / general / local…...store / shop / pharmacy / bodega they grew up with. From Facebook to Reddit, to lesser known niche pages, there seems to be lively chatter across the internet.
Do you engage in online nostalgia discussions? If so, what do like about this kind of reminiscing? Is it a general sense of community and connection? Or a way to find specific old places or old friends? Or something else altogether?
Answer the poll, send us a note, leave a comment — or all of the above!
Off Road
This week’s finds:
Heading to the Lone Star state? Texas Highways spotlights 15 mom-and-pop shops worth wandering to. Enjoy a “1932 Burger” and old fashioned lemonade at Owl Drug, while admiring its massive Elvis collection. Or pop into the Jefferson General Store to see why “Cliff Bode’s passion for collecting old things led him to buy a really old building in 1979.” There he and his wife gather, refurbish, and stock old books, toys, machines, and more. And of course, the Czech Stop is a must-stop. Wendy can attest — every kolache is delicious!
Old-time pharmacies offered more than just drugs — they were the go-to for various supplies, community advice (or gossip), and that freshly made soda fountain root beer. So, what do you do when a museum created to preserve and recreate the nostalgic pharmacy experience also shuts down? You wipe away a tear and “visit” Minnesota’s Soderlund Pharmacy Museum via a handful of articles that captured it before it was gone.
Take a short walk with Kathleen Rouser through her 2011 museum visit. She writes about Soderlund again in 2015.
Learn about pharmacist Bill Soderlund’s passion for compounding drugs in a 2007 Connect Business Magazine spotlight.
Dive deep into vintage pharmacy history and collectibles in a 2008 Collectors Weekly interview with Bill, where he discusses show globes, bottles, and other drugstore antiques.
Know folks who want their coffee with a side of nostalgia?
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