I don't remember any different. The "drugstore," as my family called it, was always there. And "there" is where I could always find my dad. By the time of my earliest memories of the drugstore, Wheeler Pharmacy had already been in existence for several decades. You see, I was the last of four children Buddy and his wife, high school sweetheart Lucy, would have. When Dad opened his business in 1958, it was a blank canvas, an empty building on a relatively empty Romany Road on the outskirts of town. There were no computers, cell phones, or HDTV. There was just a pharmacist, a typewriter, a telephone, and the classic American dream.
As many drugstores did in the 50s, Dad included a soda fountain in the plans for the business. Unlike many drugstores, however, the Wheeler's soda fountain is still serving its loyal customers 50 years later. I can remember many times over the years when Dad was so frustrated with trying to manage a restaurant in addition to a pharmacy (two entirely different types of businesses) that he was ready to throw in the towel and close it. Luckily for all of us, he never did. The food has always been delicious, but I think the best part of the fountain has always been the people who patronize it. In case you've never noticed, the fountain has always had a "breakfast crew" and a "lunch bunch." These are the people who visit every day sitting in the same seat and even ordering the same food. Through the years, these loyal Wheeler's patrons have solved most of the world's problems; they have replayed every University of Kentucky football and basketball game, praised and cursed 10 United States Presidents, watched the bull and the bear markets take turns, and kept Juan Valdez in business! They are creatures of habit, much like my Dad and his cup of coffee every day at 10:30a.m. for the last 50 years. Even the food hasn't changed much. In fact, I don't think it's changed at all, except for the addition of the self-named Buddy Burger and Stuart Burger. Of course, a nickel coke today would have to be served in a thimble.
Growing up in the 70s, the friendly neighborhood drugstore simply known as Wheeler's already had a loyal following. And it seemed like everyone knew me, even if I didn't know him. My mother would say, "Oh, you know who that is, they trade at the drugstore." It would take me 30 years to fully understand that statement. As a practicing pharmacist at the drugstore today I realize that the majority of the patients I advise actually watched me grow up. They were my neighbors, school buddies, fellow church members, and teachers. Dad knew everybody, and everybody respected him as a leader in the community as well as a trusted medical professional. I am proud to say that nothing has changed. Perhaps the blank stares my children give me as I recite that same quote to them today will eventually turn into their own understanding.
Speaking of children, the saying, "It takes a village" must be referring to Wheeler's. The clerks always did, and still do, know the names of the children who visit frequently. And more importantly, they know their parents. I often would hear from my friends at school stories of how they "got into trouble" by Mr. Wheeler for being unruly in the toy or candy aisle and no matter how hard they tried to prevent it, their parents would always find out. No one ever wanted to see Mr. Wheeler coming down that aisle! But all of those friends turned out to be fine upstanding citizens and maybe dad had a hand in that. They say for every act of discipline there is a sweet story. In 2000, Dad received a letter from a young man. He didn't identify himself any more than to say he had grown up in the neighborhood and had often visited the store. In the envelope there was $30 and a note stating that he had always felt guilty about the sunglasses and model paints he had stolen on a dare many years before and wanted to finally pay for them. Another story Dad is fond of telling is one of the young mother who brought her toddler into the store to introduce her to the "Pacifier Man." She just winked at Dad and told the youngster that when you get too old for a pacifier, you simply give it back to the Pacifier Man so he can give it to a new baby. Dad happily accepted the used pacifier and it is my understanding that the child never asked for it again.
In addition to the moniker, "Pacifier Man," Dad has also been known through the years as many young adults' first boss. "Mr. Wheeler", "Mr. B.", or "Daddy Warbucks" are just some of the titles given to him throughout the years. Often, the first job for junior on his path to a career as a businessman, lawyer, teacher, or salesman was a night cashier or delivery driver in the famous "pill car." In fact, Wayne Bryant started as a clerk in the 70s, worked his way through pharmacy school, and is still a loyal employee 30 years later. For my siblings and I, working at the drugstore wasn't a choice. I'll have to admit, it was a defining moment for all of us. For instance, my oldest brother learned to never put the bank deposit bag on top of the delivery car and drive off. My sister learned that she could never, ever work for Dad. And my brother, Stuart, and I learned that life for us wouldn't be the same without Wheeler Pharmacy.
The building that has housed Wheeler's for the last 50 years has been expanded, remodeled, and decorated for Christmas year after year. A computer now does the jobs of an old typewriter and big black cash register, one phone has grown into nine and the walls have seen many different colors. Even many of the faces coming through the doors have changed or grown old. But what remains the same is Dad. He still comes to the store most every day, even though he's been "semi-retired" for about eight years now. Sure, his hair is silver now and he no longer resembles Elvis Presley, but his mere presence reminds us all of a time when a business didn't need a mission statement posted above the time clock to know its purpose. All you had to do was look at the boss and follow suit. Stuart and I are now running much of the business, and hopefully leading by example just as our father has done for so many years. We can only hope to instill the same character our dad has given us into our children and our employees, and to serve our community as well as he has for the next fifty years. Maybe I'll even get my own burger someday.