24 Jan 2014 Sidewalks and street scenes
by Vivian Lawson Hogue
As youngsters climbing up into our 1939 Buick sedan, we didn’t give a thought to whether we were going “to town,” “downtown” or “uptown.” The terms seemed interchangeable depending upon where one lived or worked.
Now it is a “commercial district.” Those who like the term feel it indicates “sophistication,” while many in Faulkner County still simply say they’re “going into town.”
Our town was quite an entertainment center until around the mid-1970s, whether citizens were attending movie theaters, listening to auctioneers at the sale barn or “just looking” at JCPenney. The local country bands gave rousing outdoor performances to weekend audiences, and older men “hunkered” at Massey’s corner as they smoked their unfiltered cigarettes. Many manufacturing plants arrived during that decade, but the end of cotton crops, the railroad’s passenger trains, the Conway theater and the lack of the city’s interest in saving the train depot dampened the spirit and focus of city and county residents.
Until that decade, there were many single-family residences in the “commercial district.” A few escaped razing until recently. A mental “ghost” of a former house still sometimes appears to long-timers when they look at a new business or empty lot that now claims the spot.
Downtown grocers and dozens of neighborhood grocers had time for chatting about a customer’s family. The stores had similar aromas permeating their walls, those of fruits and vegetables, peppermint at Christmas, school supplies in September and linseed oil used on wood floors. Imagine a current grocer extending credit with no statement sent or a balance mentioned. People paid their bills as they could and didn’t abuse the privilege.
Store customers had the luxury of using “counter checks” at stores if they left their checkbooks at home. These had no check or account numbers printed and were accepted by storeowners with seldom a request for identity as they knew their customers. Banks thrived on trust from the customer. My father secured a loan once by the shake of a hand with the bank president. A man’s word was his honor.
The aroma of lead, paper and printing ink wafting from the Log Cabin Democrat on Oak Street was exhilarating. Paperboys with their ink-blackened hands folded or rolled their papers to be delivered by bicycle or on foot. Nearby, the meat market owner taking a break while leaning against the doorframe of his store while wearing his bloodstained apron is a vision not forgotten. The blended fragrances of the barbershops, bakeries, theater popcorn, freshly sawed lumber, train grease and smoke and cotton and grain from gins and farm supply stores made “going downtown” an exciting experience. Even the odor of cow and horse manure around the sale barn was in the mixture, and it smelled mainly of money.
Shopping in our town before 1965 was certainly less expensive in time and money than the 48-minute drive to Little Rock. In fact, from almost anywhere in Old Conway one could be downtown in a few minutes by driving, walking, biking or riding the city bus.
But, of course, one might have to stop for a train.
A native of Conway, Vivian Lawson Hogue graduated from the University of Central Arkansas with a degree in art education. A retired teacher, she worked in the Conway School District for 23 years. She is editor of the Faulkner County Historical Society’s semi-annual publication, “Faulkner Facts and Fiddlings.” She can be reached at [email protected].
