If I grew up knowing one truth in life, it was this: When your family owned a business on Main Street in Austin, Minnesota, you were taught from the time you were in utero to be loyal to that business. This meant you did not (make that never!) cross over the threshold of a competing business. For example, the folks from Fantle’s did not shop at Wallace’s anymore than the folks from Wallace’s shopped at Marvin’s. It was as verboten as the Episcopalians sharing hot dish recipes with the Lutherans. Personal fidelity to one’s own was a ferocious character trait.

Would you believe that in 1945, Austin had a staggering 64 grocery stores? Now mind you they weren’t all big establishments. No, the majority were corner stores and they were a vital part of our retail community. These little businesses survived on people like your Aunt Mabel who, heaven help her, in the middle of baking a cake, realized she was out of sugar. Her saving grace was the corner grocery. And, I would add, you saw many customers like Aunt Mabel arriving at the shop all in a tiff. They were wearing their aprons — the ones with flour on them.

Then there was the child who as a treat for being good (or possibly as a way of getting him out of his mother’s hair for 20 minutes) was given a nickel to buy a Popsicle. And, of course, the never ending stream of neighborhood customers who needed a quart of milk (in a glass bottle) and a loaf of Wonderbread (as virginally white as the driven snow.) I know about this because we had such a store on the corner of our block. It was Bradley’s on West Lyndale.

Bradley’s was run by, who else but, Mrs. Bradley. She was the sole owner and sole employee. If she had to run an errand, the shop was closed. That’s just the way it was. The business, all of 15 x 12 feet, was the front room of her home. When you stepped through the door, you could feel a slight sag and a pronounced squeak as your weight put an extra stress on the old wooden floor.

It was dark inside Bradley’s because merchandise filled up all the walls leaving no crevices for any light to squeeze through. I remember the environs as being varying shades of brown, broken only by the colorful labels on the foodstuffs. The shop had a tiny single counter (which needed to be no larger than the length of that loaf of Wonderbread) and it was low because Mrs. Bradley was low. To me as a kid she seemed tiny, old and brittle, but in reality she was probably no more than 60. Course, everyone knows that being 60 in 1945 was old!

Even though our family had their own full-sized grocery store, I would wager that we alone kept Bradley’s in business. One of the four of us kids was always running down the block to buy something for mom. Personally, I felt like I was on a vitally important mission; like I was the chosen one who got to buy the needed pound of margarine. I suppose it was because in those days, I seldom made a monetary transaction all on my own. Only adults did that. That’s why in December it was so extraordinarily special to be a member of the bank’s Christmas Club. When the 12th month rolled around, we kids could withdraw our entire annual savings which we had deposited monthly when we received our allowances. The year-end bank balance usually amounted to no more than seven dollars, but then seven dollars went far in our juvenile world. Especially if you did your holiday shopping for the entire family at Woolworth’s!

Corner groceries were also necessary because most families had only one car. It was driven to work by the husband because he was, after all, the bread winner. The wife was on her own to figure out how she was going to do the shopping. Almost all of the children, however, had bicycles (with baskets on the front handlebars) making them the prime go-for customers of these corner shops.

There were two other corner groceries in our neighborhood: Lyndale Grocery and Kapricka’s Market. Both were several blocks from home making them geographically out of bounds for the range in which we were allowed to roam. If, on the other hand, an older child were to accompany us, then it was a wild and crazy treat to get to walk the distance to these stores. I loved it! I remember checking repeatedly to see if the nickel or dime … or wonder of wonders, the quarter … was still in my pocket. Think of it. Where kids today fly alone from Austin to New York, we of yesteryear had the same thrill by walking alone to the corner store. And, I would add, a dang sight cheaper!

I ask you, who didn’t love the old corner grocery? It was such an adventure to shop there for you never knew what you might find. Actually, it was more realistic to say what you might not find. But, then expectations were not high. We weren’t, after all, expecting to find a Hy-Vee inside.

It was also a psychological boost to be recognized by name, as if you were an important customer. That is because you were! The little corner businesses couldn’t have survived without you. They depended completely upon your running out of one item or being lucky enough to be given a nickel to buy a Cheerio. (Remember those delicious things and why, for Pete’s sake, did their name disappear?)

As you drive around Austin, you can still spot the remnants of old corner groceries. And, as I say that I’m not sure why we referred to them as “corner” stores, for they were often in the middle of the block. Nonetheless, you can easily tell where one used to be. In every case it has by now been exclusively turned back into a home. The renovation has the recognizable look of a grocery having been turned into a bedroom which was fair play for that same said bedroom that was once the store!

Of course the building was never meant to be only a store. It was a home where the family lived. That is precisely why we also called them Mom and Pop stores for those two people were the entire staff. Yes, the whole ball of wax until their children grew old enough to help out. In many cases that turned out to be not all that long a wait! If the couple had children, of course they were expected to help out. After school, that was their extra curricular activity!

Just imagine our small city once having 64 groceries. It’s an astonishing thought. To be sure, the majority were these corner groceries. There was one store, however, that was going strong then and is still going strong now. In fact, it has been going strong since 1886. That year an immigrant arrived in Austin from Austria with his own version of the American dream. It would be called “Knauer’s Market.” It’s still called “Knauer’s Market.”

We all know it; the little butcher shop on the side street off Main Street. It remains to this day a truly family owned business, with Mark being the fourth generation to run the store. I would have to say that it appears the Knauer family thought the decorating skills of their great-grandfather were just fine, for today, 129 years later, you can still see obvious remnants of them. Check out the walls, the scales, the butcher blocks, the shelves and the floor. Seems the only thing that has changed during all this time is the butchers!

Where else on this planet can you find pickled turkey gizzards next to the strawberry jam, model Nascar racing cars next to the bananas, space heaters next to the lutefisk, one-piece pajamas next to the canned peaches, lighter fluid next to the all-purpose flour, an original Beatles painting next to the Heinz ketchup and a bobble head of Albert Einstein next to the football helmets. Knauer’s Market, that’s where!

Oh, and did I mention meat next to the meat? I would hazard a guess that folks drive from miles around to experience not only the ambience of the place, but the delicious flavor that comes from it. Let’s face it you don’t stay in business for 129 years if your product isn’t superb. (Ask the folks at Ford about the Edsel and you’ll see what I mean.) Like the new Spam Museum, Knauer’s ought to be a required stop for every tourist visiting Austin.

In my reverie, I wonder where we would have been without those old corner grocers? And while we’re thinking of them, how about this thought? Were they not the forerunners, the inspiration, the birth of the 7-11 convenience stores? I’m thinking so. But, unfortunately, no 7-11 ever had the charm, the charisma or the warmth of the Mom and Pop stores that we knew and loved. Today there is only one place you can still get that warm and fuzzy feeling. Knauer’s.