In the back, Griffith & Feil Drug might look like an ordinary pharmacy. Up front, it’s a journey into the past.
Neon signs glow pink and blue. 1960s pop music flows from a jukebox. At the counter, customers enjoy sandwiches and fries. But they’re not just eating. They’re talking, laughing, and sharing stories.
At the heart of this experience: the soda fountain.
Thirsty? Open the drink menu and you’ll find more than Pepsi or Coke. You could order a watermelon soda. Feeling adventurous? Try the peanut butter soda! Or you could always go with a suggested flavor combo, like chocolate covered cherry Coke or lemon-lime phosphate. A soda jerk will serve it up for you.
(Here, “jerk” doesn’t mean “rude person.” It means somebody who operates an old-fashioned soda fountain, jerking the handle to pour carbonated water).
Soda fountains were once a fixture in American pharmacies. In the 1800s, pharmacists mixed fizzy phosphate-based tonics for their customers. They marketed these drinks as cures for all sorts of ailments.
Over time, the flavors and recipes improved. The tonics became a tasty treat. Customers sipped soda while waiting for prescriptions. Soon, pharmacies added food to the menu.
Then came Prohibition, starting in 1920. The United States government declared alcoholic beverages illegal. Bars closed. Thirsty customers flocked to drugstore counters instead. Soda fountains sprouted up across the country.
“It was a place where you had an experience,” says pharmacy owner Ric Griffith.
But in the late 1950s, soda fountains faded away. Small town drugstores struggled to compete with chain stores such as Walgreens. Shelves of home goods replaced their once-bustling food counters. If customers wanted a quick bite, they could just swing by McDonald’s. Who had time to wait at a soda fountain?
Griffith hopes the tradition will return to small-town America. Over the past decade, many soda fountains closed. But new soda fountains have also opened, in places such as Knoxville, Tennessee, and Wakefield, Rhode Island. Griffith wants to see people sharing meals and stories instead of opting for the convenience of fast food drive-throughs.
He remembers a grandfather and granddaughter who visited the soda fountain. The grandfather shared memories from his childhood. He told the girl how he used to sit in those same booths after school and order cherry Coke.
“The look on his granddaughter’s face was wonderful,” says Griffith. “She’d never thought of her grandfather as ever having been young. He was always her grandfather.”
Fast food might be—well, fast. But if we zoom through life, what might we miss?
Why? Modern life moves quickly. By slowing down and enjoying simple things, we can connect with other people and build community.
