Evans “Buddy” King
It is year-end as I write this piece. This time of year, columnists typically recap the year’s major events or make predictions for the future.
My forte, however, seems to be making observations and invoking memories of the Christiansburg and Montgomery County I grew up in. So that is the tact I will take here.
I entered first grade in the fall of 1959, attending the old school on Junkin Street (directly across the street from my grandmother’s house) and graduated from the beautiful old school on the hill — Christiansburg High — in 1971. A quick check of Wikipedia shows that in the 1960 census, Christiansburg had 3,653 residents, and in 1970 it had 7,857 folks.
My guess is that a lot of this increase was from annexation, not influx. By 2010, the population was 21,041 and growing, primarily fueled by the seemingly never-ending expansion of Virginia Tech. So Christiansburg was a much different place then than now.
I intend to list below a few of the things that made it special (to me at least) to grow up in our nice small town in an era when life was simpler.
Times were changing, but there was comfort from familiarity and the warmth of people who were largely the descendants of pioneers and farmers and whose families had lived in the area and known each other for generations. Here it goes:
Having totally volunteer fire and rescue squads
This was the ultimate show of concern for your neighbor and it seemed that almost every family I knew had a member in one of these organizations.
They sacrificed but also had good times and developed great camaraderie. They symbolized the Christiansburg of my youth as much or more than any other aspect of life in town.
Homecoming and Christmas parades on Main Street.
It seemed that everybody in town would line the streets. I still remember helping my much older cousin work on a homecoming float while he was in high school. Big time stuff for a fourth grader.
Having doctors make house calls.
My doctor, Dr. Clarke, had a beautiful home on Main Street, which also served as his office, but when I was really sick as a kid, he would visit Cherry Lane and examine me in my home. I remember two things in particular about Dr. Clarke. First, regardless of my malady, even if I had a broken bone, he would look at my mother and say in his distinguished South Carolina drawl “Mrs. King, there’s been a lot of this going around.”
So you always had confidence that whatever problem you were having, you were not in it alone — the rest of the town had it, or soon would.
The other thing about Dr. Clarke I remember was that he did football physicals for free. Every year from eighth grade through graduation, I took a yellow form to his office, and he would look in my ears and throat and hit me on the knee with a tiny hammer and declare me fit for another season. No charge. The other doctors in town did the same.
Having only one indoor basketball court in the whole town.
It was at Christiansburg High School. Whether you were playing in the Kiwanis little league program or eighth grade or junior varsity or varsity, or girls’ basketball or volleyball, this was the spot where it happened. A fierce-looking Blue Demon was painted in the circle at center court, the floor was highly polished, and you knew that if you set foot on it in “street shoes” you were subject to summary execution by any coach who witnessed it.
Having four drug stores on Main Street.
They were all locally owned, like all of the town’s businesses during this period, as I recall. This was an era before convenience stores and these wonderful places served that function as well. They had old-fashioned soda fountains and lunch counters and comic books and the essentials of daily life.
I walked from my home off of West Main to town in the summers in the mid 1960’s to Miller Drug, to buy the afternoon paper, The Roanoke World-News, in order to check the baseball scores from the West Coast that had not made the morning paper. Pre-ESPN days. I would usually get a cherry coke and sit in a booth and read the Dodgers’ box score from the night before. My parents apparently had no worries letting me do this by myself when I was 11.
Lester’s Foto Shop — one of the great businesses and pieces of Americana in Christiansburg history (my opinion).
Doug Lester was not only the person you took your rolls of film to for “developing,” but also was the county crime scene photographer and town historian. He had a wonderful family of four kids and his wife Ruth, who was the perfect mother for our town and generation (even if she was from Wisconsin, which I thought was somewhere in Canada) — she cared about everybody’s kids, not just her own, and helped raise many of them through scouts and church.
Lester’s had a charming disarray and disorganization to the shop. Doug was not motivated by profit, he just wanted to be himself, helpful and sardonic and part of the fabric of the town. I thought of him the other day when it took seven seconds rather than four for a picture to appear on my IPad after I had taken it. In my childhood, the wait was usually two weeks, but the anticipation was wonderful and stopping by Doug’s shop was magical, particularly so when it was in the alley next to the Palace Theatre.
The Music House on Main Street, speaking of waiting.
This shop sold and repaired televisions and record players and other electronics. It was owned by our Cherry Lane neighbor Kyle Jennings, who reminded everyone of Johnny Carson with his “dry” sense of humor, fueled as I learned later by his love of “dry” martinis,” like Johnny’s sidekick Ed McMahon.
The Music House had a couple of “almost” sound proof booths where you could try out the latest records to see if you wanted to buy them, always under Kyle’s watchful gaze from his side of the counter.
I think he wanted us to feel that he disapproved of too much free listening, but he really was a kind and humorous man who enjoyed being in touch with the kids in town, and he always had a CHS student or two working for him after school, including my best friend John.
The Music House also was the black hole where broken down televisions were taken for repair, ostensibly at least. It seemed that there was a minimum sentence that each television had to serve before it was paroled to its owner.
If you were lucky, you got a “loaner” while your family’s set rested in the land of disregarded TV’s. I remember many a day going in there and staring longingly at our broken set in the back of the store, hoping for some sign regarding its ETA at home.
Angle’s Market, another Christiansburg original.
Angle’s was on Main Street across from what was then Richardson’s Funeral Home and had the world’s best butcher shop. Meats hanging and sawdust on the floor. I remember standing with my mother, fidgeting, while she small-talked and ordered roast beef and hunks of cheese and chicken for frying (was there any other way to fix it?).
When he was retiring, Mr. Angle sold the market to several of his employees, who fought the good fight against the Kroger’s of the world for a number of years thereafter. An early ESOP.
Recently, the Kroger’s where I currently live proudly announced that you could now order online or by phone and then do a drive by and pick up your groceries. It was announced somewhat like the invention of inter-planetary travel would be.
But the Angle’s of my childhood was light years ahead in this regard. When my mother didn’t have time to go in person, she would call the store and read her list to one of the clerks. The groceries would then be delivered to our side door by either Tim or Garnet — two great older gentleman who could be seen all over town driving green pick ups with bags of groceries in the back. Service with a smile and a nice conversation.
Pharis Cleaner’s
Located across College Street down from the high school (as proven when my Dad, principal of CHS at the time, forgot to set his parking brake and his car ended up meandering down the hill across the school campus and coming to rest against the building), the business was owned and operated by two wonderful Christiansburg men of the era — Icky Pharis and Johnny Epperly.
Icky and my father went back to high school days together and were best of friends. My father had taught Johnny in school. I would stop by the cleaners many an evening walking home from football practice and get a free coke and talk about the game coming up that week.
Once a customer overheard me talking nervously about the upcoming Blacksburg game, and he said something along the lines of “son, it’s not a matter of life and death.” Icky corrected him sternly by saying “it is to him.” Great memories of great men.
I hope these recollections have rekindled memories for some and perhaps helped others to have a glimpse of what Christiansburg was like in those days.
It was a good point in time and place, but, like life will always be (hopefully), it was all about the people.
Evans “Buddy” King grew up in Christiansburg and graduated from CHS in 1971. He lives in Clarksburg, West Virginia, where he practices law with the firm of Steptoe and Johnson PLLC.
