My Vision of Mr. Jimmy's General Store
January 16, 2013
“John navigated the open area passing the chairs, stools, and benches that surrounded the hot pot-bellied stove in just a few long strides.” — The Presidents Club
A photo shoot in the Great Smoky Mountains.
Near Maggie Valley, NC.
Shoot a log cabin.
The hard part?
Finding the cabin.
Finding Mr. Jimmy’s Store.
There once was a “Mr. Jimmy.” I knew him.
He’s gone now.
He had a store in the Tuckasegee, NC area.
It wasn’t like the store in the accompanying photo.
Mr. Jimmy’s General Store from The Tourist Killer exists only in the imagination of the author — me. The image in my mind’s eye is an amalgam of several old-time general stores as seen in such venues as Sam Drucker’s store in Green Acres. The store where young Lincoln worked in Lincoln, the Vampire Slayer and many others.
There was one in my home town of Mangham, LA.
The proprietor wrapped the customers purchases in brown paper and secured it with string.
He “wrapped” the package.
The counter, table, or work area where this activity occurred was commonly referred to as the “wrapper.” It is still called that in many retail operations in the 21st Century.
Mr. Jimmy still fetches the items on his customers’ shopping lists and wraps their purchases in bundles.
The hardwood floor bears the wear and tear of his footsteps.
The benches and chairs around the pot-bellied stove made the shopping area an incubator of ideas and a reservoir of information.
Shoppers enjoy a caliber of service most thought was gone with the wind.
Their kids get free suckers.
Insiders, like John Hixon, benefit from a fountainhead of knowledge and information.
How does Mr. Jimmy acquire hard-to-get facts even before Google and Yahoo?
Will Hixon get the information he needs in time to save the seven men who share first names with former U.S. Presidents?.
Meet me at Mr. Jimmy’s.
I’ll buy you a Coke, we’ll shoot the bull for a while, and find out what happens next with The Presidents Club.