Author Archives: Richard Friend

Tastee-Freez… Exploring the Wreckage

How many times have you thought about an old favorite restaurant, store—or even an apartment or house—that you’ll never get to experience again, and wish you’d taken more photos of it when you had the chance? Or even just one photo?

Unfortunately, most of us were too busy enjoying the moment to think about preserving the moment. Aside from the occasional employees who were mindful enough to capture a few snapshots during their tenures, most of us just never thought to bring a camera to these places in their heyday. Most of us took it for granted that the places where we grew up were not only unremarkable, but that they’d always be there.

And then we grew up.

While they’re certainly not from its heyday, a pair of photos by Flickr member sally henny penny succeed in preserving a moment—a final, quiet, and reflective moment inside Laurel’s Tastee-Freez/Big T restaurant—shortly after it closed in 2007 and was razed in 2009.

To get the full effect, you really have to view them at their full size on Flickr, or click the photos below to enlarge.

There’s an unsettling contrast in the scene; on the one hand, it’s every bit as familiar as it was in the 1980s. You’re instantly transported—once again standing before the counter in the Big T, glancing at the overhead menus—some of which appear to even be backlit. The trio of heat lamps are still there, ready to warm arguably the best roast beef known to man. Business cards and flyers—perhaps advertising The Whitewalls band, or an antique car show—are still tacked to the bulletin board near the exit.

But at the same time, there are the unmistakable clues that this is merely a shell of the Big T that we knew and loved. It’s closed, and it’s not opening ever again. The chairs are stacked on the tables; but more ominously, parts of the counter and electrical wiring have been disassembled. And most of all, there’s a distinct sense of emptiness in the restaurant which was heretofore unimaginable in this warm and vibrant place.

Not to compare the Big T’s demise to the worst maritime tragedy of the 20th century, of course; but something about this scene just feels eerily like exploring the underwater wreckage of the greatest “Big T” of all—the Titanic, which sank a century ago this year, coincidentally.

But then again, nobody ever raved about the roast beef sandwiches on the Titanic, to my knowledge. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if people are still talking about this wonderful place a hundred years from now, as well.

 

Photo: sally henny penny (Flickr)

Photo: sally henny penny (Flickr)

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Laurel Lakes, 1986

This is a “Laurel Lakes CentrePiece” promotional newspaper—a supplement to the Laurel Leader—from August 1986.

It contains several pages of reviews and ads for the likes of Shoney’s and Evans, as well as some of the smaller merchants in the nearly-new Laurel Lakes Centre. Best of all, it includes a complete directory listing and map of everything that was there in 1986. So if you’re like me, and couldn’t quite remember names like Maxime’s Books and China D’Lite, this infographic is a veritable time machine.

 

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Fyffe’s Service Center

I was too young to have visited (much less frequent) Laurel’s legendary Fyffe’s Service Center before it closed in the early 1980s, but it’s one of the places I’ve consistently heard the most about over the years.

Originally one of only two gas stations in the town during the 1920s and 30s, it enjoyed a lengthy run at 10th and Montgomery Streets as a favorite neighborhood bar and general store from the early 1950s—all the way until it closed on May 1, 1983. The structure then sat empty, languishing in decay until it was finally bulldozed in December, 1995.

Laurel Leader, June 2, 1983.

Laurel Leader, December 7, 1995.

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Ghosts of Laurel Mall

Recently, friend and fellow Laurel history buff John Floyd II noticed something while walking from the Laurel Mall exterior to Laurel Shopping Center… something that’s been there for years, but had never caught his eye until now. On the Rt. 1 side of the complex, between the mall’s main entrance and the former J.C. Penney, are service doors to other lower-level shops in the mall—shops that have been closed for years. In stenciled letters (or remnants thereof), are the names of at least two of these former tenants: Matthew’s Hallmark and Friendly’s Restaurant.

Photos by and courtesy of John Floyd II
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Fotomat

Photo: John Floyd II

This 1973 photo of Laurel Shopping Center shows a Maryland State Police medivac helicopter on the scene near what was at the time the Hecht Co. parking lot. In the distance is the iconic Giant Food sign (which still stands), and the massive movie screen from Wineland’s Drive-In (which closed in 1984). But if you look closely, you’ll spot another familiar building—albeit a tiny one. Here’s another hint: its yellow roof almost matches the helicopter.

Yes, despite the flurry of police and medical activity in the picture, we’re going to focus instead on that tiny little building that sits just below the Giant Food sign. The Fotomat.

Laurel had two Fotomats that I can recall: this one in Laurel Shopping Center, and another in Montpelier Shopping Center. Fotomat buildings (if you can call the tiny structures “buildings”) were nearly identical across the country; a trait that was brilliantly incorporated into their brand. I was always rather fond of those buildings, and to a child, it somehow seemed a bit more exciting to drop our film off there for processing… as opposed to the dreary pharmacy counter at the back of the Dart Drug. The concept of a drive-thru photo place—which also sold film, batteries, and other camera needs—still seems awesome. But even as a kid, I imagined that working at a Fotomat must have been a special kind of hell—especially during the sweltering Maryland summers.

Fotomat was a pioneer in rush-processing, and became massively popular by offering one-day turnaround, which had previously seemed unheard of. Unfortunately, by the mid-1980s, the competition had caught up and passed them by—with one-hour turnaround. Soon thereafter, abandoned Fotomats could be spotted more often than operational ones. Some were briefly turned into mini ice cream stands, coffee shops, locksmiths, and who knows what else—but most were simply left to wither away.

Photo: Wikipedia

Photo: Roadsidenut (WordPress.com)

Photo: muledriver (Flickr)

Still, whenever I look at photos of Laurel from the early 80s, I often wonder about where they might have been processed. Undoubtedly, many of them came from Fotomat—maybe even this one.

Photo: gatsbyiris (Flickr)

Photo: Christian Montone (Flickr)

Photo: photoslipdesigns.blogspot.com

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Pantry Pride… Cook’s… and Magruder’s… Oh My!

Laurel residents of the 1970s—particularly those in the South Laurel/Montpelier area—filled their pantries with Pantry Pride products for more than a decade.

The popular supermarket occupied the north corner anchor spot in Montpelier Shopping Plaza along Rt. 197; a location it had enjoyed for years, essentially competing only against the pricier Giant Food at nearby Town Center. According to a July 16, 1981 clipping from the Laurel Leader, Pantry Pride had been considered the most economical supermarket in all of Laurel—until Grand Union introduced “Basics”, its new store (and a precursor to Shoppers Food Warehouse) a few miles further north at the Laurel Plaza Shopping Center. When Food Fair—Pantry Pride’s parent company—filed for bankruptcy, that spelled the end for 48 locations in the region. On August 1, 1981, the long-time grocery favorite closed its doors.

I was only 8 years old at the time, which might explain why I have no memory of Pantry Pride television commercials such as this:

I do, however, remember going there frequently—usually with my grandparents, who lived at nearby Crestleigh Apartments at the time. And in hindsight, Pantry Pride might have been the first store closing that I ever experienced. I can recall a distinct sense of disappointment upon learning exactly what that meant—”going out of business”—and a sudden desire to retain something of the store for sentimental reasons, before it disappeared for good. (Something I obviously never grew out of, huh?)

Oddly enough, I have very little recollection of the store that replaced it some three months later, aside from its name—Cook’s Supermarket, part of another small chain of independent stores in the DC area.

Instead, I seem to remember Magruder’s occupying the space for most of my youth… although neither it nor Cook’s ever made quite the same impression on me as Pantry Pride.

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Keller’s / Knapp’s No More

I just came across this great shot found at http://www.panoramio.com/photo/1683203, showing a deserted stretch of Main Street in 2007—including a sadly vacant and soon-to-be razed Keller’s/Knapp’s News Stand.

The emptiness in the photo matches that felt by so many who frequented the old establishment through the years; whether it was to buy racing forms, out-of-town newspapers, the peaches, watermelons, etc. that filled the porch, or just to chat with the colorful regulars. The corner at 323 Main Street just hasn’t been the same since.

Photo: spork232 (panoramio.com)

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Laurel Shopping Center, 1977

One year later, in 1977, the Laurel Shopping Center’s phone directory added another four listings (bringing the total to 88, while still touting “90 stores to serve you!”) And evidently, still no one noticed that misspelling of Montgomery Ward at the top. Hmm…

The most notable addition has to be that of Hair House, with their catchy phone number: 498-HAIR. It’s part of Bart’s Barber Shop, and is still in business today—with the same number.

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Laurel Shopping Center, 1976

If you lived in Laurel in 1976, chances are, you probably had to call one of the stores at Laurel Shopping Center at some point. Maybe to check what times Rocky was playing at the Cinema; or perhaps to see if Suburban Music had that new Bee Gees record in stock yet. And to do that, you probably referred to your standard Laurel yellow pages, or the annual Laurel Community Guide distributed by the Laurel Area Chamber of Commerce. Within either of those publications, you would have found this handy phone directory—which included an alphabetical listing of all “90 stores to serve you!” in the Laurel Shopping Center. (You probably never noticed that there were only 84 listed, but I digress).

You probably did notice, however, that the busy typesetter misspelled Montgomery Ward in the masthead banner. And you may also have wondered what the difference was between “Dentist Office” and “Dentist’s Office”, but again I digress.

Glancing at this list over 35 years later, you’re probably most surprised now at how archaic these once-common phone numbers suddenly look… without an area code.

At the time, everything in Maryland was area code 301—and more importantly, you never had to dial it for local calls. Seeing a phone number in print without an area code today looks almost as antiquated as those old telephone exchange names from the 1940s.

This was the heart of Laurel retail at the time, and it would be another three years before Laurel Centre Mall even came along. There are some unforgettable names on this list, and some that have have probably faded from memory over the years. And incredibly, there are a few that are actually still in business there to this day. How many do you recognize?

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Signs of the Times: Disappearing Neon of Route 1

Route 1 has seen a change or two over the past century, hasn’t it?

The black and white photos above are from the Laurel, Maryland Centennial Souvenir Historical Booklet (1970), and show what—for most of us who grew up in Laurel in the last quarter of the 20th century—is a very familiar scene from 1970. However, the current street view is almost as unrecognizable as the sparse 1907 tableau.

There probably isn’t another stretch of road in Laurel that was more densely populated with over-sized neon signage than this particular corridor; and slowly but surely, they’re disappearing from the landscape. A savvy photographer (with the right telephoto lens) might have been able to capture quite a few of them in a single shot from the right vantage point. At one time—within less than half a mile from each other—one could see not only the Tastee-Freez/Big T and Texaco signs shown above—but those of Arby’s, Giant, and the Laurel Cinema marquee.

Photo: Maryland Route 5 (Flickr)

Photo: Maryland Route 5 (Flickr)

photo: apricotX (Flickr)

The Arby’s and Giant signs are still fully functional, and both are fortunately still open for business. While the Laurel Cinema marquee is technically still standing, it’s in poor shape—and with the movie theater officially closed (again), it’s probably only a matter of time before the old sign is finally torn down.

One interesting detail I noticed in the 1970 shot is the wording of “Big Tee Burgers”. At some point after, it had been skillfully modified to read “Big T Family Restaurant”, as it remained until its ultimate demise.

Photo: stgermh (Flickr)

Another reader noted that the road doesn’t appear to have been widened much over the years, either. Apparently, somebody reasoned that if it was big enough for all those neon giants, it’d be big enough for whatever vehicular traffic might pass through.

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