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"The Laker" Newspaper Tuftonboro General Store It's six AM and barely light outside. Inside the early crowd, a mixture of drop-ins and stay-awhiles, have filled the table in the Tuftonboro General Store. There will be another crowd at 7:00 AM but these early stalwarts come from as far away as Moultonboro to claim seats at the day's chat. At the corner of 109A and Federal Corners, there always just enough room. There's a sense of conversations that started some time ago and continued today. How much a cord for firewood this year? How're Steve's athlete daughter's first days at UNH? Where's Tony's well project? The crowd splits it's opinion of how useful a divining rod might be but Tony's not buying. And so on. Away from their lively debate and occasion outrageous comments, owner Teri Heppe is summing the previous days receipts at the counter. Calm and steady, she's paying no attention to the group. Her day job is teaching at Kingswood Middle School so these guys are no challenge in crowd management. Traditional country stores were variously the post office, barter shop, importer of exotic goods, clothier, feed station, checkers center and meeting place. The motto was famously, "We've got it, if we can find it!" Their heyday was from the Civil War to the early 1900's when mail order and better transportation killed off most. Families had accounts that settled up when crops came in. While some products came packaged (remember LaCreole Hair Dressing? Uneeda Biscuit?), most were bought in bulk and sold by the pound. And, unlike the direct access supermart of today, most were served from "behind the counter". Soap, by the way, was never a big seller, farm wives could and did make their own. "It's a tradition for them." Greg Heppe says about the table crew. "Most are self-employed or retired so they can set their own schedule. Some drop in, drink a half a cup and go on. Others come in when they are around, like those living somewhere else and up here on the weekends. The weekend crowd is completely different." The store feels chock-full, a quality that harks back to those early stores. Things for sale, or just admire, hang from the ceiling, the walls and perching on most flat surfaces. In back is the Tuftonboro Post Office, complete with frosted window and antique mailboxes. Limited in services and often having to call "downtown" (Wolfeboro) to get most current regulations, it makes up for it with personal service. Ever walk into a post office expecting a special package and have them yell, "It's not here yet!" before you got to the window? Or seen postal employees hand carry a large package to the car of a elderly lady? "The store has a lot more of a service to the community, especially since it has the Post Office in it. Which, by the way, was established in 1827." Greg says. According to NHNPR, as many a half a dozen NH country stores closed in last five years. Most blamed lack of buying power and increasingly difficult Wal-Mart style competition. Some got significant local community help to survive, others became museums and still others have or will seek shelter in the Alliance for Country Stores. Currently focused on Vermont, the Alliance offers increased buying power at the expense of the independence and individuality of traditional stores. It remains to be seen if this trend will fly in New Hampshire's "Live Free or Die" atmosphere. At last report, the communities of Sandwich and Canterbury were working to save their stores, as those in Hebron and Harrisburg did. Greg and Teri bought the Tuftonboro Country Store over a year ago when it was beginning to look like it would disappear from the 109A corner. It's been there since 1822. Their expectation was that it would take several years to shake out the bugs and be profitable. But the store, according to Greg, is doing fine. In fact, it continues to grow and add to it's offerings. It's not obvious why this store is successful and some many others are not. Greg and Teri listen carefully to their customers. They weigh each decision to add a new product with the care of a farmer picking crops to plant. Greg is careful not to try to stock a wide variety of everything due to strain of cost and shelf space. He and Teri shop the big discount warehouses aggressively. However, I point out there's a very wide range of local and national beers in his cooler, questioning the consistency of his approach. Greg deadpans, "That's because beer's a priority." immediately catching me with his quick, gentle wit. The store is not particularly tourist oriented. At least not yet. In spite of being close to Wolfeboro, it is off the water and not near major local attractions unless you count being on the route to Castle-In-The-Clouds. It is the local game weigh station but does not issue hunting and fishing licenses ("...too time consuming.") There's a very tasty pizza, subway and other Italian dish offering at their grill which draws people in. Moreover, Greg points out, these types of stores take a minimum of three people to run and, on cue, he's called away to make change. Greg seems to know everyone's name, the truck they drive, their kids. Gregg leafs through a newly found but ancient ledger book. A neighbor brought it in, it seems authentic, and it sets the date of the Tuftonboro Store back another six years, to 1816. That's somewhere between the James Monroe and James Madison presidencies. The ledger book calls out goods from around the world in someone's graceful handwriting: one pint rum-6s 4p; Indian Meal-6s 0 ; 1/2 pound of candy-1p 0s; pint of rum-1p 3s; 1/2 lb of Sugar-7p; a plug of tobacco-7p; 1/2 quarter of super fine wheat flour-12s 0p; a broom-1s 0p. Originally built as a store, the building cost the grand sum of $100 for one Deacon Leathers to build. The first store keeper was Daniel Pickering. There's no checkers game at the Tuftonboro General Store but Greg offers a puzzle he built using a wooden base and golf tees. It's one he made when he taught Industrial Arts at Kingswood. "Until it wasn't fun anymore." he adds. Now he, and his family, run the store. On the side, he is something of a Celtic music master, playing on his one hundred year old flute. "There something bonding about a store. Part of a bigger community. You can't be in this business without enjoying the people side. It's what the business is about." Maybe NHNPR missed a point about how these stores can survive. I take a picture of the early morning crowd as Teri watches over my shoulder. They ignore me. She smiles gently, "You know" she says "that's what this place is about."
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