“People enjoy reading them,” Mary explains of the simple, four-page newsletter announcing a 50th wedding anniversary and an American Cancer Society fund-raiser. It’s a weekly delivery she’s made for 15 years.
In a high-tech age when people communicate instantly via e-mail and satellite uplinks, the 1,242 residents of Cross Plains, Tenn., still can learn about community events from a sheet of paper stuck between the salt and pepper.
Indeed, if residents of Cross Plains want to know their community’s goings-on, Thomas Drugs is the place to go.
“A lot goes on, and we’re kind of a good information center,” says Dan Green, a pharmacist who owns the drugstore with his wife, Debbie. “People will stop by if they need to find where somebody lives, or they’ll ask where the Dumpster is and if it’s open. Sometimes they’ll call to find out whether a baseball game is on if it rained. We try to keep up on the events.”
The historic pharmacy is the heart of the town, both literally and figuratively, occupying one corner of Cross Plains’ main intersection—a four-way stop.
A step through the drugstore’s heavy wood and glass door pulls customers into a nostalgic era, with friendly “hellos!” from behind the soda fountain, galvanized washtubs perched along a high shelf, and bottles of Watkins brand liniments and extracts arranged inside display cabinets. When Dan asks, “How are you today?” he waits for an answer, and if you order lemonade at the fountain, well, they squeeze it from the real thing.
When your grandfather talks about “the good old days,” he’s likely remembering places such as Thomas Drugs.
‘It’s what I grew up with’
Merchandise has been bought and sold on this spot since the 1800s, when a general mercantile store stood here. In 1914, the building burned, to be rebuilt the following year.
Dr. Jim Thomas bought the structure after the 1930s stock market crash. He added rooms to the building’s side, where he could practice medicine, and turned the rest of the store into a general merchandise and pharmacy, where his son, Burgess, was the pharmacist until his death in 1973, Dan says.
Thomas family members then sold the drugstore to Dan’s brother-in-law, also a pharmacist, who recruited Dan, fresh from a Memphis, Tenn., pharmacy school, to run it.
“I came and looked at it. I thought it was worth a try,” he says. “I enjoy small towns and getting to know your customers. They’re not only your customers, but also your friends.”
Dan started work in summer 1974, and after two years decided to buy the drugstore—ambience and all. “I did want to keep it an old-fashioned pharmacy, if possible,” he says.
Towering dark wood and glass cabinets line the walls of the long, narrow building from front to back, as do showcases, all of which came from a distant Tennessee pharmacy that closed shortly after World War II. Gifts and general merchandise—photo albums, men and women’s fragrances, collectibles, greeting cards—fill the shelves near the store’s front, changing to pharmaceuticals about halfway back.
Thumb-sucking and nail-biting remedies, baby hair lotion, arthritis creams, and contact lens solutions share the shelves just a reach away from John Deere memorabilia and bathroom fixtures.
The five-stool fountain, where you can get a tuna salad sandwich and chips for $3.59 or an old-fashioned ice cream soda for $2.29, came from yet another drugstore, most likely in the 1940s—as did the four wooden restaurant booths, which typically already are filled by 11:20 a.m. for lunch.
Debbie, the lunch counter’s chief cook, has earned a reputation for her chicken salad sandwiches. The county’s leaders and professionals gladly make the 12-mile trip to eat the lunches she prepares.
Thomas Drugs attracts customers because it has retained such a historic flavor, but visitors particularly are charmed when they see that it’s not simply a museum, but a working pharmacy, Dan says.
“A lot of generations of people say, ‘I remember that my hometown had a drugstore that looked like this,’” Dan says. “It’s what I grew up with and what I remember.”
“People are looking for the memory, I guess,” Debbie adds. “We specialize in memories.”
But older folks aren’t the only ones who appreciate the drugstore’s atmosphere. Brooke Rippy, 17, a three-year, part-time employee, likes meeting visitors and watching their reaction. “Everybody says it’s like stepping back in time,” she says.
Layiel Wimpee, 18, also a three-year employee, prefers working there to the fast-food restaurants in nearby Springfield, the county’s largest city.
“I like being in a relaxing place. It’s more traditional, and you get to talk to people more than you would at a fast-food place,” she says.
Layiel, the third and youngest of three sisters to work at Thomas Drugs, helps in the pharmacy, cleans, sells merchandise, and—her favorite—cooks and serves at the fountain.
And it’s there that Cross Plains’ teenagers and youngsters congregate after school and in the summer, which is just fine with the Greens. “It’s a good place to get something to eat and drink. It’s a good place to hang out. We encourage it,” Dan says. “They all behave themselves. Sometimes it’s noisy, but that’s part of being young and we understand.”
The personal touch
Thomas Drugs’ hometown character evolves from more than its lazy ceiling fans and ice cream sodas. Old-fashioned customer service keeps Thomas Drugs competitive in a time when consumers can go to the nearest chain store or get prescriptions filled over the Internet.
Dan, who greets customers by name, knows something about each of them. They are, after all, neighbors. “How’s your mama?” he asks one woman who drops off a prescription. To another, he inquires about her husband who had surgery the previous day.
He makes sure that his neighbors understand their medication, usually stepping down from behind his elevated counter to talk face to face. “It’s aggravating, because you have to take it five times a day, but it’s worth it,” he instructs one. When one elderly woman has a question, he stops what he’s doing to give her his full attention and answers every query.
“They’re not just a prescription number,” Dan explains. “We value them, and we want to provide a service and make sure they have all their questions answered and give comfort to them.”
“When you don’t feel good, a personal touch helps out more than the medication. We give them a little encouragement and let them know that somebody really does care.”
The Greens care enough to offer 24-hour service. “We do that quite often for people coming home from the emergency room or hospital and they need help,” Dan says. He’ll meet them at the pharmacy whenever they need him to fill their prescriptions.
And if they can’t make it to the pharmacy, the Greens deliver, free of charge. “We don’t advertise it, because we’d get into a situation where all we’d do is deliver, but we try to help shut-ins or people who don’t drive,” he says. “Sometimes they’re so sick they can’t drive.” Most customers know where the Greens live and occasionally will ask if they’ll drop a prescription off on their way home in the evening.
Debbie, who worked as a nurse before she married Dan, also adds an extra service: “I finish cooking and check blood pressure and give counseling on medication,” she says. “I don’t diagnose or dispense medication, but if they have a need or need to see a doctor, I encourage them to go.” And she, too, makes house calls.
After all, the pharmacy is not just a business; the Greens see it as a divine opportunity to serve others.
“I just had a tough old time (financially) getting through school, and I told my Heavenly Father that if I get out of here alive, I want to help people,” Dan says.
A doctor who helped her with college tuition by awarding her a scholarship inspired Debbie to provide the same for others. “God has a way of giving opportunities to give back,” she says. “Since Dan and I have had the drugstore, we’ve been able to assist others in their education. That type of being able to give is what’s blessed me so.”
Visitors who walk through their door every day also are a blessing—and the best part of her job, Debbie says. “It’s unbelievable the people who come into our lives,” she says, noting she’s met people from England, Scotland, and all over the world who learn of Thomas Drugs from travel guides.
“Through them, I get to taste a little bit of a lot of places,” she says. “One man came in with his family. He had just gotten a job with the Boston Pops symphony and they were stopping in for an ice cream cone. Now, where would I ever meet him in a million years?”
Visitors are looking for that bit of nostalgia that Thomas Drugs has to offer, and the Greens are happy to oblige. “When I go into a mom-and-pop store I like to see Mom and Pop there,” she says. “Everybody should be able to have a piece of that in their life.”