Gary Alexander SPORTSMAN’S1
See, the thing of it was, (back in the old neighborhood, in the old days, we always used to say “the thing of it was…” It was kind of similar to the way kids today use the word “like.” “Like this…like that”…only they never seem to get to just what it is that…whatever it was…is “like.”) Anyway, there was this terrific drugstore on the corner of Broadway and 177th Street in Washington Heights (New York City). And in my family, the place was kind of a legend. My parents used to tell about it when I was growing up; how the last stop my mother made when she was in labor was at Getty’s drug store. My father got her some mints or something that sort of made her feel better. Something like that. Whatever it was, Getty’s always seemed like a friendly place after I had heard that story. And then there was the time I had my tonsils out. My father got me a little truck at Getty’s. They sold everything there.2
Maybe my favorite memory of the place was something that, when it was there, seemed to have been there forever, but, when things started changing and they took it away, seemed never to have been there at all. It was a lunch counter. I can remember the black marble counter top and the stainless steel soda and malted milk glass holders with the handles. The malteds were extra frothy at Getty’s and you got at least two glassfuls with a little left over. And you always felt a little sick if you finished it all.3
The best thing about the lunch counter was breakfast. On those rare days when you were home from school, but well enough to go out, and up at that early hour, and somehow got to Broadway for breakfast, Getty’s was the place. The smell of hot buttered toast wafted outside and complemented the business of the weekday-well dressed, going-to-work people, lending the busy early morning scene a happy, favorable, aura. It was the opposite of threatening, as it imbued those days, yet tucked away in our future, with something we could look forward to.4
When I was escorted in to a hasty (for whatever reason) breakfast at Getty’s, it was a treat. The toast never disappointed and was invariably sliced on the diagonal, always hot, and the butter melted and salty. At home the toast was cut in half, kind of hard, the butter cold and never salty! 5
You could get hot chocolate at Getty’s too…and sometimes, in the early days, my father would sneak a nickel into the cup just after I had finished. (“Look what’s in here!") An added incentive to finishing. But I had my first coffee there. It was probably the best counter joe ever, memories of each cup swimming along with the toast crumbs that found their way into the few drops of coffee in the saucer.6
As we rounded the corner of 177th Street onto Broadway, Getty’s drug store was the first emporium greeting the stroller on any fine afternoon or evening. And if you were bound for the Broadway bus, or a lengthy trek north to the more populated shopping thoroughfare of 181st Street, or the trolley car, you might stop into Getty’s first to pick up some last moment peppermints, a magazine, Chiclets, a coke at the marble-top counter, or a small flip-top tin of aspirin. I once spied an attractive display card sporting shiny, personal nail clippers. Each had a hidden, swing-out file, was hefty, pocket-size, and inexpensive. I took note of the display card for weeks. I had to have my own personal clipper. And finally one day, before a Broadway bus ride, I blew the quarter and bought one...my own pocket pal. It was a happy day.7
Anyway, the thing of it was, when Christmas came around Getty’s underwent a wonderful transformation. The counters inside had cheerfully wrapped packages in the glass display cases, the luncheon area clinked and clattered, the smells of BLTs and Grilled Cheese permeated the place and gaiety prevailed. The windows were decorated with snow and glitter, there were colorful Christmas balls surrounding the products and as I stood before the Christmas Getty window I can vividly recall one item that seemed for me to embody the street, the holiday, the cheer, the spirit. It was a “gift set”…a happily boxed package of Sportsman’s Cologne and Aftershave Lotion. I had seen Sportsman’s before, but never paid it any serious mind because of two considerations. First, not having begun to shave, I had little need of the product. Second, even as I approached that shaving stage, I was unclear as to the distinction between the aftershave and the cologne. The major difference to me, then, was in the illustration of a jumping rainbow trout on the bottle of aftershave and a colorful drake amidst rushes on the cologne. In addition, the aftershave was yellow…the cologne, green! So…therein the fascination. And the more I wondered, the more I hovered there before that window, on the threshold of adulthood…and Christmas, the more I had to have my own boxed, gift-wrapped set of Sportsman’s. I could not possibly have reached a decision between the aftershave and the cologne…. I had to get both.8
As the days rolled by and the holiday approached, the more seasonal items seemed in vogue and appeared to be an integral part of the yuletide: red vests, smoking jackets, pipes and tobacco assortments featuring Mixture 79, Middleton 5, Cherry, and Rum and Maple, and suede loafers. But the boxed set of Sportsman’s seemed to embrace the whole season for me…. To be happy and fulfilled it was something I had to own. It would make my Christmas. It would catapult me into the festivity.9
I had saved the few dollars it cost…and I happily bought the Sportsman’s; both bottles, wrapped nicely…with the trout on the yellow aftershave and the drake on the green cologne. Both bottles, in the gift box set, only a few dollars.10
Up until then I was privy only to what lotions my father had used. The popular products were Pinaud’s Lilac Vegetal , Old Spice, Mennen and Yardley. Mennen was a more common garden variety, unused by my father who seemed to alternate between the others. I guess, however, his not being especially “sports” minded, nor viewing himself as a “sportsman” precluded gill nor feather (of the trout or the drake) from being espied on any of my father’s preparations. 11
So there I was with my initiating bottles, holding within the aromas all at once of manhood, Christmastime and sportsmanship. Within, lay the wilds of the rushes, the brooks, the woods, the lagoons and the rivers; within, the essence, the freshness of the unknown…the splash of affluence and sophistication. 12
And…it was all of those things. Without the vest, without the pipes and tobaccos, without the loafers or all the other trappings of the holiday, the Sportsman’s embodied the soul of the season for me. I used it for weeks, perhaps more, until it was all gone, and, for awhile, forgotten.13
It was months, maybe years later, that I wondered what ever had happened to Sportsman’s Cologne and Aftershave. I hadn’t seen the product in any windows…anywhere. Christmases came and went….as did I.14
I had since discovered another line, far more sophisticated (and expensive), of men’s toiletries by an outfit called Caswell-Massey, billed as the oldest company of its kind in the United States. The line is subtle and appealing with a variety of fragrances, even boasting one scent possibly worn by George Washington himself. They call that one Number Six. I tried them all, and got duly lost in several: Persian Leather, Verbena, Jockey Club, and Lemony-Lime. But none of the fragrances ever resembled Sportsman’s…and no matter how many scents I had come upon that were similar to one another, I never sniffed anything akin to the old drake or the trout.15
It was many winters later finding myself in a huge drugstore chain as far from a mom and pop enterprise as you can get, with hardly the charm and wonder of a Getty’s, much less a lunch counter, that I stumbled on a stock bottle of a brand name aftershave I had not seen before. It bore the simple, and somewhat common and nondescript name of Musk. Usually the musk fragrance is not one I especially favor, but in deference to my curious nose I purchased the product. It was surprisingly inexpensive.16
I didn’t uncap the bottle until weeks later when I had run out of everything else, and not expecting anything extraordinary I carelessly tipped the container and splashed an excessive amount on myself. The aura removed the cap on decades and for a brief moment seemed to bring back Getty’s, the fifties, youth and that beckoning threshold of adulthood which then seemed so far off.. I saw the drake on the green lagoon and the jumping trout on the yellow aftershave as clearly as I could smell its fresh presence. For a moment, I owned the red vest and the pipes and tobaccos and the suede loafers, and for one whiff of time none of the years had gone by. For a moment, but for only a moment, I was in Getty’s with everybody, and I was buying the Sportsman’s. It’s just that, the thing of it was, this time,… it wasn’t Christmas.
Author notes
User name: Gary Alexander
A contest entry
- SW Oscars - Best Author - Invite Only! by Asfand.
275 points, ended September 10, 2007, 5 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - If I had a christmas wish what would it be? by trekkergirl.
175 points, ended November 29, 34 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest - Christmas story contest! by KatGI.
235 points, ends December 3, 6 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest - Firsts by Eddie.
350 points, ends December 7, 13 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 31 of 31
-
The line where you put in the perenthasized segment on the use of 'like' by todays youth seemed quite awkward but otherwise this story was fairly smooth on its follow through. I love the tale you tell here, of growing up and the small things that happen. Being that I am not a guy I know nothing of aftershave or any type of lotions of that sort but still found the descriptions of the smells and bottles quite interesting. Your stories always seem to be on the small things, irrelavent to most but so wonderfully writen that they become captivating bits of literature. It is stories this simple yet complex that I hope to one day be able to write. Keep writing.
Phoenix
-
Wow what a write! Thanks for this wonderful trip down memory lane. A wonderfully pleasant memory really. I loved the imagery... the descriptions of everything. I could even smell the lotion and colgne. Such wonderful memories I am sure.
This is indeed a wonderful write and you are well deserved of the Gold trophy congrats.
I really did enjoy this walk down your memory lane. Thanks for sharing this with us and thanks for entering my contest. You are a very talented writer!
-
The thing of it is...it slipped my mind that I'd read this one, and I clicked it, eager for another Gary read. I read it again anyway though; it's one of my favorites of yours.
-
Not JUST on the nose!
Lots of vivid descriptions; very sensory. I just love quality toast, and I could smell it in your marvelous description. I also like your use of descriptive scents beyond the target symbol - the aftershaves and other lotions.
I like the emphasis and detail you put into the fragrances, particularly Sportsman's. This isn't about scents or the functionality of the products - this is about time travel. This is about how memories can have a dimension of reality that is starker, more tangible, more meaningful than many elements of our current (often mundane) existence. This is also about the magical world of the young.
Up there among your best reminiscence-based stories. Loved it.
. Rewarded 8
-
Mmm, scents of the past. My dad had something that was bright blue in a clear bottle with some kind of small black-and-gold image. I don't recall the name at all, but I remember its smell; it was the smell of getting-ready-for-church.
This was a great piece. I liked especially your last sentence. The thing of it was. Haha, my dad says that all the time. I really enjoyed the comparison with "like". I say "like" too much. Like, way too much.
. Rewarded 8
-
ONCE AGAIN A GEM!
You have a knack for nostalgic pieces. Thank you very much for a great read.
I don't recall Sportsman's Aftershave or Cologne, but my father used Old Spice.
My favorite part is your portrayal of a boy on the verge of adulthood looking in the drug-store window at the bottles of aftershave and cologne.
. Rewarded 6
-
Stunning
I think it seems pretty fitting that, on my first visit to Storywrite in months I see your story in the Featured Stories box. What a good welcome back.
Anyway, fantastic, stunning story. I could perfectly imagine Getty's in my head- it was almost as if I was there myself. The smell, the sight- everything seemed pitch perfect in this piece.
I wish I had more to say, but I guess I'm out of words to describe how much I loved this. Keep writing.. Rewarded 8
-
This reminds me (and he would KILL me if I knew I was telling this *laughs*) of a friend I had when younger, and his first musk. He had seen his father's collection, several of which had musk in the title, and decided to buy some of his own because he was "a man" (this was in elementary school, mind you
). Well he went to the local hardware store (aka the only store in town) and bought a bottle of musk "cologne" - only it was real musk, the kind that attracts animals for hunters. I'll never forget his face when he realized he was splashing on deer urine. *laughs*
Thanks for the trip down memory lane! What an enchanting piece.
-
Nice story; you're right, I did like it.
First paragraph, I think it's weird to have the 'like' thing in parentheses and then have the next sentence after begin with 'Anyway.' you never finish the first sentence, 'See, the thing of it was...' See what I mean?
I like the toast comparison. I can definitely relate to it. Why is it that the sourdough toast is always better at most restaurants? That's life.
-
I enjoyed this! You really captured how magical smells can be at bringing back old memories! New York City seems like such an enchanting place for someone used to the country, like me. I pulled up the satellite view of the place you were talking about while I read this. I liked that you gave exact directions for me to find it!
-
This is very nicely written! No wonder you won gold in the contest you entered this in.
I love the perfect way the character seems like a real person recalling things from his past, it's very realistic. The vague yet sepcific descriptions were also just like real life. I usually don't enoy this type of writing, but this was really cool and real.
. Rewarded 6
-
Great
I'm not someone who goes into grammar etc! This was really good, a very enjoying read.
-
Fantastic! The nostalagia was perfect, without being sickly. Everything was great to read; the only part I didn't like was (of the trout or the drake) because I understood the feath and gill allusion, and it felt like you were talking down to the reader. Lovely write! I could see this being published in a Reader's Digest for Christmas.
. Rewarded 6
-
good
This is a very good peice. I liked it! Yay! anyway, tell mewhen you write more, Im interested... -
Man there's nuthin like takin a stroll back on memory lane
I don' care if any1 sez its corny - I liked it - very relatable, it's in terms everyone can easily understand, and I liked it
I've sed that b4 but still.
Good job mate cheers. Rewarded 6
-
Very good memory evoker
This story does a good job of evoking memories for specific people. Most people have had the experience of hearing music that evokes specific memories of places, people, times, and situations. It has been scientifically proven that memories can be evoked by odors. In addition, some writers have the unique ability to evoke memories with words.
Does the audience have something to do with this. The writer weaves the spell but the age and past experiences of the audience must be able to respond with the particular memories. Each generation has its own set of memories. When that generation of the audience passes, can the spell ever be evoked again? It takes a living mind to remember. When that generation is gone, the story or poem can sound the signal but there is no one alive who remembers. Sort of like the sound of a tree falling in the forest when there is no one there to hear it.
-
Nice One!
I like this piece, old aftershaves... ahh! there used to be an aftershave here called Briut, which had the tag line of "Splash it all over" the adverts had boxers and racing drivers in them.
The feel of the piece is excellent and the descriptions are as ever top notch.
All in all a superb feel to the piece.
All the best.
jsdk
. Rewarded 6
-
Hmmm, I like it well enough, but I'm not sure so much about the sometimes flippant tone, it distracts me from the world you are trying to build.
-->business of the (weekday, well-dressed)
I love Old Spice, lots of happy memories there!
Sportsman's musk--ewww! and you wore Lemon-lime & Verbena (snicker) ;-
. Rewarded 6
-
What a lovely piece. It's the kind of read that sets me back on a trip down memory lane myself.
Your aftershave, the way you describe it, seemed to me almost like a 'coming of age' experience. I remember having one of those myself, with my first ever perfume NOT made from warm water and rose petals! Oh, how very grown up and wordly I felt!
A beautiful piece, to liven the senses. Much enjoyed.
---sorry, I hadn't finished commenting, a customer came in ------------------------
Where was I, oh yes.....
I loved the way you described how finding a similar aftershave brought back all the feelings, smells, sights and sounds from your childhood. It's amazing what we remember as the 'iconic' places and times from when we are young. I suppose we all have our own Getty's!
-
It wasn't a flash, smoke and a sudden jerk but the end result the same. A journey in a time machine. In fact the one you have built is much better; the trip so pleasurable. I'm a bit later along but a lot was still there. For me the machine that made shakes and malts was silver and green.
Thank you for the time-travel.
Jim
. Rewarded 6
-
This was a Good Story
Not really my thing, but it was interesting to read about where you grew up.
Good Job
-
Good story
I really like your description of Gettys. It reminded me of a place in North New Jersey where I grew up. Thanks for the memory.
. Rewarded 4
-
I enjoyed your memories of growing up.
My father got her some mints or something that sort of made her feel better. Something like that.( smile. I'm glad Daddy now gets to hold Mommy's hand.)
See, the thing of it was, (back in the old neighborhood, in the old days, we always used to say (,)“the thing of it was…”
Good morning and congratulations, Gary.
I enjoyed your memories of growing up. I didn’t comment on the first read, because I got interrupted and didn’t finish.
You have such a grasp of providing description, I could ‘smell’ the coffee, ‘taste’ the toast, ‘see’ that nichel. And those 'Window Trimmers' they were a breed of their own.
Of course it is great experience, completely delightful the way you recreate for the reader the New York City of the middle twentieth century.
Still, you immediately lock in our mind that while so much has changed from the days of Mom and Pop stores, lunch counters, and streets you could ‘walk’ across some things remain similar.
I was looking for one of your lessons--hmmm? This time I just found a great story.
Geri
-
-
Fragrant!...but Brief!
Hi Geri,
Thanks for reading the SPORTSMAN'S piece. You are SO right. Not much of a lesson here! Good for you for realizing this...as well as the fact that there ARE (or at least I try for there to be) little "lessons" in most of the other tales. This one is merely an "aromoatic" (I hope) glance back...to afford a glimpse of yesterday. If there is any "Theme" at all, it is simply that time,(an era) and we (caught up in it) move on and get through it as we both change...losing little things along the way. It's wonderful that it once WAS...pretty much for all of us...but is simply AIN'T Xmas anymore!
GA
-
-
Wow, terrific read! I loved how this piece uses so many sensory stimuli to paint this vivid picture. This is a wonderful portrait of a place and time and the feelings that existed. I love how at the end the similarity of the odors triggers the memory, "The aura removed the cap on decades and for a brief moment seemed to bring back Getty’s, the fifties, youth and that beckoning threshold of adulthood which then seemed so far off..." And the touch of sadness that comes along with that, "It’s just that, the thing of it was, this time,… it wasn’t Christmas."
. Rewarded 8
-
-
H.G. Wells, no...but
Mallig,
Thank you for your kind comments...and mostly for enjoying, apppreciating the piece. It isn't much, but, you know, if it can serve to take one back, just a little, hey!it's the closest thing we have to a time machine!
-
-
This is really lovely. I enjoy how you turn an everyday thing into a work of art. Very cool. Love it.
-
This is so beautiful.....So little things make our day. Its filled with so much emotion. Loved it
Adding your comment:
1 - 31 of 31
