Oddly, I find this little Dart Drug truck (from Dart Drug, of course) infinitely cooler today than I would have as a child. Now I’ll just have to try to resist opening the package…
Oddly, I find this little Dart Drug truck (from Dart Drug, of course) infinitely cooler today than I would have as a child. Now I’ll just have to try to resist opening the package…
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
On the Saturday of every Mother’s Day weekend in May since 1981, Laurel has hosted its annual Main Street Festival. The entire length between Rt. 1 and 7th Street is closed to traffic as pedestrians literally fill Main Street—sampling foods from local vendors, listening to music, entering raffles, and just generally having the proverbial grand old time. Now into its 31st year, the event has grown to attract between 75,000 and 100,000 visitors annually.
These photos, courtesy of retired Laurel volunteer firefighter John Floyd II, give a unique glimpse of the very first Main Street Festival—at a simpler time when a number of long-gone names graced the buildings that mostly still remain: Caswell’s Upholstery & Laurel Draperies, Macrame Plus, Laurel Business Machines, Dougherty’s Pharmacy, Barkman’s Florists, Antonio Gatto Custom Tailor, Laurel School of Classical Ballet, Pal Jack’s Pizza (closed in December 2010), Petrucci’s Dinner Theatre, Equitable Trust Bank, Laurel Printing Company, and Gayer’s Saddlery (now Outback Leather).
You can almost smell the funnel cakes…

Can you imagine an air show being performed at Laurel Shopping Center? It actually happened in 1975, and by the looks of these fantastic shots by John Floyd II, the show was a big success—both in crowd turnout and the perfect landing by the Firestone Precision Parachute Team.
The Giant Food sign—which is still in use today—does look a bit younger in this photo, yet surreal beneath the overflying trio of red biplanes.
In the images below, we get a glimpse of The Hecht Co. (the original building and signage), Laurel Cinema, and Equitable Trust bank.


