Mary Belk: Dime Store era was something to behold

When it comes to possessions, I’m 100 percent American. Why in the world are we all so fond of our stuff? Whenever something gets broken, chipped, torn, worn out, or lost, I tend to grieve. Whether it’s an old coffee cup or a dog-eared paperback.

I didn’t grow up in the Depression era. And I wasn’t around for World War II. I know the biblical verses about laying up treasures in heaven instead of on earth. So why am I so concerned about worldly goods?

I think it all started with five-and-dime stores. You can hardly find a dime store anymore. They’re so rare, even the name sounds funny.

I ran into a friend in the middle of a mega-store. “Remember the old dime stores?” she asked me.

I sighed. “We called them 10-cent stores.”

We swapped stories, walking down the aisles of our memories, picking up puzzles, stamp-pads, pocketknives, and paddles with little rubber balls attached to rubber band strings. The dime store had been an important part of both of our small-town lives.

Auburn had two dime stores the 1950s. Crest 5 & 10 on East Magnolia Avenue and V.J. Elmore 5 & 10 on North College Street. To a kid, Crest was the most appealing store in Auburn. Mr. Berman, the owner, welcomed browsers—even young children. We had our pennies for bubble gum and nickels for candy. We walked and looked, picked up and pondered. Sometimes we bought. Toys were in the back, near the McCall’s and Simplicity pattern books, zippers, pincushions, packets of straight-pins in neat pierced rows, and bolts of fabric. While mothers perched on high stools searching for the perfect pattern, children caressed the latest fashions in doll clothes, rubber snakes, and cap-guns.

We marched up and down the aisles like spies on a mission. Even school supplies seemed special on dime store shelves. Mounds of multicolored construction paper, Scotch tape, paper clips, and yellow number-two pencils.

Sturdy pots and pans, can openers and paring knives lay across the aisle from frivolous party supplies. Brightly colored paper cups and plates, candles and sugary cake decorations.
Little girls covetously eyed the cosmetics. Rows of shelves filled with Maybelline mascara, Cover Girl compacts, and fire-engine-red lipstick. And there were exotic scents like Chantilly and Evening in Paris.

I longed to explore the bowels of the back room where Mr. Berman sometimes disappeared to search through unpacked boxes. But I never got the chance. At 8:13 on Sunday morning Jan. 15, 1979, a gas leak touched off an explosion that blew away buildings in downtown Auburn. The blast, known as the Kopper Kettle Catastrophe, also destroyed Crest 5 & 10.

For years Auburn folks have mourned the loss of the Kopper Kettle. I wouldn’t mind scarfing down another piece of the Kettle’s coconut cream pie. But mostly I bemoan the end of an era. The Dime Store Days.

Mary Belk lives in Auburn and writes a column for the Opelika-Auburn News.