Mr. Jensen #1
I am calling him Mr. Jensen #1 because he was the first Mr. Jensen to enter my life, and also he was a number 1# type person for me and my family. On the front window of his store at 806 River Street was decaled the name Johannes Jensen, proprietor. Among the several small grocery stores present on our block in Troy in the 1940s, the only one that really counted was Jensen's Thrift Store. Because of that store, and its proprietor, we did not need a car for anything. Groceries were delivered, and Mr. Jensen often delivered us wherever we had to go. The bus lines served us well, as did car pooling for Dad to get to and from work. I never entered a real supermarket to buy anything until I was well into my teens.
Mr. Johannes Jensen became our "Uncle Hannes" or "Ja Ja" because he was a good neighbor right from the start. When my mother was about seven months pregnant with me in 1941, while tending to the needs of little George, she fell off the back steps at 804 River Street and suffered a broken leg. Through excruciating pain, she crawled from the backyard to the front window, while little George insisted that she play "horsy". She pleaded with a passerby to get Mr. Jensen, who had a phone in his store and he called the ambulance.
(Six weeks after the fall, Mom's cast was removed on July 24th and gave birth to healthy me- with back bruises from the fall- on the 25th of July, 1941.)
Sporting a white apron, black lace-up boots, and a cap that covered his brown curly hair, Mr. Jensen tended to his back yard whenever he had a chance. We grew to love that most beautiful yard in the neighborhood, with its carefully manicured lawn, sharply edged path, a bed of hostos with tasty spearmint plants interspersed, trellised rose bushes on his shed and on the north border, a peony bed flanked by a "snowball" bush (not a hydrangea) and lilacs, a perfectly trimmed privet hedge along our property line, a round sculpted barberry bush in the center, and several beds and borders of tulips and annuals. All was cared for with a variety of hand tools from a heavy reel type push mower to huge hedge trimming shears. That yard flourished because of his dedication to it and because the soil was magically enriched.
Mr. Jensen used compost derived from grass clippings, old vegetable scraps, and horse manure which was plentiful in the city streets in that era thanks to the horse drawn Freihofer's Bread carriages. These vehicles went about the city delivering fresh baked goods to homes and stores, and very often a pile of manure appeared on the street, and Mr. Jensen also appeared dressed with his apron and gloves, armed with a shovel and pail to sweep it up for his compost pile. He was the one man pooper scooper patrol in the neighborhood, and he had a very lush back yard to show for it.
Whenever Mr. Jensen was in the back yard, we had an opportunity for fun. Sometimes after his grass was mowed, we would roughhouse on the lawn and throw the cut grass at each other. Other times, he would lean over the hedge and push us on the swing. He and "Aunt Blanche" often gave us gifts. Once Mary was given a balloon, fun until it burst, and then she had more fun. Day after day, Mary would sit on the swing and sing "Ja Ja, my b'loon is broke…" and he came out and pushed her on the swing to keep her quiet… for a while. Mary was a favorite of Aunt Blanche. Sometimes, when Mom needed a rest, Mary would be handed across the three foot wide gangway, where our second story windows lined up, so she could play with the toys that the Jensens had accumulated to entertain their nieces.
One Sunday, when we were running around in his yard, Jeannie, almost 3, complained about something in her little shoe, and Mr. Jensen patiently checked, and checked again and again. There was nothing there, but we were witnessing the onset of polio. Again he helped get someone to the hospital.
The delivery truck emblazoned with "Jensen's Thrift Store" was our family get away vehicle. A family of six, with no car, had few opportunities to get out of the city. Dad decided that we needed a vacation sometime in 1945, and rented a camp on Burden Lake for the week including July 4th. We packed the delivery van with our supplies, and with mom in the front seat cradling Jean, and Dad squished in the back cargo area with George, Mary and me, Mr. Jensen drove us to the lake, where we had two near drownings, saw some fish, rode in a boat. Dad jumped into the lake early in the week to save Mary and a few days later, he repeated his heroics with George. One day, the six of us went out in a row boat, no life vests, but carefully cuddled by mom, with strict orders to sit still. While out on the boat, Jean had a tantrum and threw a little metal teapot overboard. The fish were huge to our little eyes. They kept me from going into the water, because they would nibble my toes off. It was a great week. I think Mr. Jensen bought a Nash sedan in the late forties, that did not have nearly the charm of the delivery truck or the signage.
Jensen's Thrift Store had most of the amenities of a modern day supermarket, except it was smaller, had less traffic and turnover of merchandise, and fewer choices. You were always assured that you would get good personal service with a smile, and free delivery, if not by the truck, then by foot. If you did not get service, you could wait on yourself, ring up your own sale, test light bulbs, stock the shelves, and even slice the cold cuts. He let us put up a Boy Scout display in the front window every year when we celebrated National Boy Scout Week.
There were barrels, baskets and bins of fresh produce which Mr. Jensen bought wholesale at the Menands market. He sold everything at a reasonable price, and would reduce the prices as the produce aged. There was a special scale for weighing produce. Usually, the weight was close, and if it was a little over, that was okay… no additional charge. If some produce didn't sell, it went into his compost. Boxed and canned goods were lined up on shelves along the wall. Often these items would age on the shelf. There were no "sell by" dates. Mom would check things from Jensen's such as raisins or cereal to make sure there were no worms in them. Sometimes, he would let us put things on the shelves. There were bins of bulk cookies and candy near the counter with a special scale to weigh those items. There were probably other bulk items around, but it was the cookies and candy that interested me the most. When George and I would buy candy or baseball cards, we often rang up the sale. If we just needed change for a quarter, we would oblige ourselves by simply ringing up NO SALE and exchanging it for two dimes and a nickel. The register didn't print anything like the registers of the 21st century. There was no waiting around for a sales receipt or coupons to print. If you bought something at Jensen's, he knew if and when you bought it. Raisins with worms would be returned. There was a separate adding machine with a roll of paper for figuring out long lists, but it was always the bottom line that was rung up on the cash register.
The light bulb tester in the cellar way would not pass muster in today's business and safety climate. If a bulb inserted there would light, then it was okay, and could be sold. He did not like us to use this attractive nuisance, but we tried it when we could.
You could buy kerosene there if you ran out or if you could not afford a big delivery. A huge drum of the smelly liquid was also in the cellar way with a hand crank. Usually gloves were worn to dispense this commodity…ten cents a gallon!
One of the long lists that was always figured out on the adding machine was the Palladino family weekly order. The ordering process was so simple. Mom wrote down what she needed for the week, and any perishable meats needed for the weekend. (Whatever other meat needed for the rest of the week was purchased on an as needed basis, so it would be fresh.) One of Mr. Jensen's helpers would pack it up, tally everything, and deliver it on Saturday afternoon. One of our favorite helpers was Andy Flynn, a high school student with amazing biceps. He would tell jokes, laugh a lot, and let us swing from those huge arms. He was a walking amusement park for us who rarely got anywhere near the real thing. When he marched with the National Guard in a parade one day, we thought of Beetle Bailey. But it was the dogpatch character Li'l Abner with the massive muscles and big boots which seemed to come alive in the person of Andy.
After Andy, there was Harold Niles, a smiling boy who had a speech impediment. He got the job done.
Harold was one of many characters that frequented the store that received special attention from Mr. Jensen. Most notable among those was Charlie Hustead or "Dirty Charlie", a near deaf person with an alcohol problem and he was usually dirty. The deafness combined with the alcohol made it nearly impossible to communicate with him. Jensen would shout at him, listen to him, point, gesture, anything to understand Charlie. It was all in a day's work. There was Charlie's sister Mabel, also deaf who took a lot of energy. And there was Walt Hicks who sent George and me to Jensen's to by ex-lax, whatever that was, or orange pekoe tea (there were some teas that were not orange pekoe). Jensen's Thrift Store served them all.
The other big attraction was the meat counter with all the saws, knives and gadgets. He prevented us from using those things for the most part. There was a grinder to make ground beef. (1 # of ground round or round steak ground was a standard order from the Palladinos.) There was another machine which pulverized tough pieces of beef, and we would be treated with "one pound of delicated steak", now known as cubed steak.
For all his efforts at keeping us away from the meat counter, there was one lapse. Mary, at about age eleven, managed to get to the meat slicer. She proudly sliced some bologna that mom sent her to get. Whoops! The tip of her finger was too close, and she started to bleed. Mr. Jensen quickly wrapped her finger in some old rags, and brought her home…so apologetic. Mom was furious at him for letting her use the slicer, and even more because he used old rags to wrap the wound. To top it all off, Mr. Jensen brought the bologna over to the house, neatly wrapped and tied. When mom opened the package, there was the tip of Mary's finger, the top slice. Gross! The finger healed, and so did the relationship.
Things began to change rapidly after this incident. I don't think it was cause and effect, just the times. The Ideal Market became the Ideal Supermarket, and Pete's, one block a way upgraded to a supermarket. The A&P was established about five blocks away and Golub Corporation was on the horizon with a chain of Central Markets. In 1955, dad bought a 1950 Nash (it looked like an inverted black bath tub.) He took a week of driving lessons from Uncle Angie (Jo) and Uncle Ed, and passed the test. Within months, Jensen's Thrift Store was sold, and Hannes and his second wife Jane retired to Schenectady, and in the early 1960s, our playful and always helpful "Uncle" went to his reward.
