Hart's Store

There were two stores to choose from back when I lived in Algona. There was the one called Gallagher's and there was Hart's.  The Gallagher's store is still there, but has been under several names and ownership since then, and is called Valley Mart now.  Hart's, however, is long gone (now the home of a restaurant called Coco Joe's), but it's the one that lives on in my memory and the one I want to talk about.

Hart's had the right amount of "hometown feel" to it. It was the kind of store that you see in old magazines, old movies, and hear about at family reunions. You would open the door that swung on squeaky hinges, and a little bell hanging over the door that would signal your arrival. You would walk across the squeaky wooden floor, worn smooth by many years of foot traffic, and moments later, if they weren't already present, either Mr. or Mrs. Hart would come through the door at the back to greet you. The back wall of the store actually separated the storefront from their home. I can remember many times walking in and seeing the door open to their living room; Mr. Hart seated in his easy chair, watching the television. He would rise and come into the store, greeting his customers warmly, no matter how young they were. Hart's was not a big store--actually, it was pretty small. It had the usual things a little store should have. Because of the size of Algona, the Hart's knew everybody, and would greet you by name.  When you walked into that tiny store you felt like you belonged there. That feeling is what separated it from the store across the street--that and the glass case full of candy! When one of us kids went into Hart's with money in our dirty, little hands, Mr. or Mrs. Hart would stand patiently while we eagerly surveyed the mass of cheap, eye-level treats that stood before us. The delicious choices of sweet goodness were separated from us by glass, sometimes already smudged by little fingers that had pointed out their desired treat with reverence.

I was very active on my bicycle during those years. I was always on the hunt for bottles during my ride, and every time I would find a glass pop bottle lying in the weeds (which was often because it was before plastic bottles) I would pedal my bicycle down to Hart's to exchange it for cash hat I would then use for a treat. There were many days I would spend pedaling my way up and down the roads of the little town and its surrounding areas, carefully scouring the tall grasses and ditches for glass pop bottles to take to Hart's for cash. The small, standard-sized bottles netted me 5¢ each, while the large bottles were good for 10¢ each. That was big money in those days. Taking bottles to Hart's for cash was my introduction to capitalism. That was where I learned that if I used my own money I could buy the things that my mom and dad would not usually let me buy. That wonderful little store was where I had my first taste of many things, like Hostess products, candy bars, Coca Cola and other treats that contributed to my growing body--things I would have never gotten at home.