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Outside the Oriental in the 80s. Photos by Brian Jacobson
I was 11 years old when Oriental Drugs closed in 1995. My memories of it are not as the bohemian Grand Central of the east side; they are not of the eclectic bunch misfits and world-weary workers that sat at the twisting counter. No, my memories of Oriental Drugs are of a decidedly more unsophisticated and ingenuous bent.
Every year, from four-year-old kindergarten to sixth grade, my mother would pick me up after school on the first day of the year and take me Oriental Drugs. We would sit at that counter, that long counter that snaked its way through the front half of the space, squeezed in between the homeless men and the off-duty nurses, and we would eat french fries and drink root beer floats. My mother was something of a health food fanatic, and eating french fries and drinking root beer floats at three o’clock in the afternoon without having to worry about spoiling my dinner was possibly the best thing ever.
Root beer floats and french fries were staples at the Oriental counter.
So we would sit at the counter, each with a float, a heaping plate of freshly made fries between us. I would swing my feet over the edge of the stool. My mom would lean forward and rest her elbows on the edge of the counter. And then we’d talk. She asked me all about school, and my teachers, and my classes. I would pull out all the handouts I’d been given and we’d read them over together, the counter in front of us becoming increasingly littered with paper as I got older and school got more complicated.
After we’d looked over everything, and I’d told her everything I could think of to say, and we’d eaten all the french fries, we’d retire from the lunch counter to the actual drugstore. We would comb over the school supplies lists and purchase anything that wasn’t already on hand somewhere in our house. So I never had folders with luridly-colored pictures of dolphins on them, or multicolored gel pens, and I somehow survived without a Trapper for many years.I didn’t mind.There was a charm about Oriental Drugs that simply cannot be replicated. For all of its aggressive attempts to be laid-back and cool, Twisted Fork (which went into the space after a brief period during which a liquor store was there), simply cannot rise to the actual easygoing yet charged atmosphere that the pharmacy and its twisted lunch counter exuded. Perhaps it’s an unfair comparison, because I’m not convinced that anything could be as endearing as Oriental Drugs. Or maybe my view is distorted by the lens of nostalgia, those rose-colored glasses that make what was always seem better than what is. Who’s to say? All I know is that when my daughter starts school, I will not take her to Twisted Fork on the first day to hear all about it over french fries and root beer floats.
“We Knew It When” is our series of stories about local places we’ve loved that are not what they once were – for better, worse or just for different. On deck: The Globe East, the Stork Club and more. Have a memory to share? From the Avalon Theater to the amazing music clubs of the 80s, we’re looking for people with great stories of landmarks and traditions past. Share your memories in the comments section and email usus with your own “We Knew It When” idea.
great idea. especially in an age when it seems we are losing more of the subtleties and nuances of family/small business in Milwaukee. 🙂
I so remember the unusual ambiance of Oriental Drugs and the niche it filled in the neighborhood. Not trying to be hip but just “being” what it was created its cache.
Hi all, we came here when i did a quick yahoo search. Neat post you have here! Keep it up!