Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, February 12, 1992 TAG: 9202120125
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Beth Macy
DATELINE: LENGTH: Long
COUNTER CULTURE CROWD
THERE are certain things you count on at the downtown Roanoke Woolworth's lunch counter.The chicken is always fried to a crisp-and-juicy finish. The grilled cheese on white bread will leave butter on your fingers after you use it to sop up your soup. Count on having to wait for a seat during the first-of-the-month rush from the welfare and Social Security checks.
And count on - regardless of time, weather or monthly food specials - Saphronia "Peewee" Cox wandering in, Bobby Johnson waving to passers-by, and the gang of four Valley Metro bus drivers cracking up in the last booth by the window.
They are as regular here as the decor is Formica-top plain.
"Peewee would sleep here if I'd let her," store manager Dave Brewer says. "We get so many of the downtown characters, I should write a book."
This was supposed to be a column about eating. And indeed, we did talk to customers about why they love the fried chicken here and what dishes they miss most from decades gone by - apple pie with cinnamon ice cream, baked apples wrapped in dough.
We learned about the downtown of yesteryear, back when the five-and-dimes ruled and when F.W. Woolworth had lunch-counter competition from Kress, Grant's and McLelland's. There were separate lunch counters for blacks in some stores then, and seamstress Rose Brewer could only shop at Woolworth's - not eat there, as she does regularly now.
We wanted to write about the food, but we kept coming back to regulars like Rose, who has been eating scrambled eggs at the luncheonette and mending clothes for its employees for more than 20 years. She's so at-home there now, she buses her own table when she leaves.
"Rosie made all the flower-girl dresses when my daughter got married," says Jean Moore, a career waitress who came to Woolworth's 13 years ago after lengthy stints at both Kress and McLelland's. Now her daughter waitresses alongside her, too.
Moore knows the regulars well - all their habits and quirks, what they order and what kind of day they're having. She can tell you that Peewee Cox will be coming in each morning at 9, greeting the staff with the same thing she says every day: "Do you know what I'm doing here so early? I went by the liquor store, but it's not open yet."
It's Peewee's standard line, even though she doesn't drink or go into liquor stores. A short elderly woman who wears a bright red wig, she is a downtown fixture, known for buying her bank tellers lunch and giving street people money.
Moore can also point you to the man who puts 20 packs of sugar into his iced tea every day. And she doesn't mind if her ex-schoolmate, Ruby McDaniel, drinks coffee in a booth for hours - then catches the bus without leaving her a tip.
Valley Metro is the mode of transportation for most of the regulars. They head here from the bus stop at Campbell Court across the street. So do four of the bus drivers, who meet for an early lunch at 10:15 weekdays - because it's convenient and because it reminds them of the Saturdays of their youth, when their parents brought them in to shop and eat.
"Now we sit here watching the lovely ladies walk by and watching old Brewer run out of the store after people who've stole stuff," driver Ralph Harless says of the store manager, adding: "He runs a lot faster than you'd think he would."
A man stops on the street by Bobby Johnson's window booth to wave.
"As you can see, I know everybody," Johnson says proudly. "In fact, people who don't know me come by and wave. I've been here for, God, . . . a long time."
Frequenters of downtown recognize Johnson instantly: his jerky walk; his slow, labored speech.
Born with cerebral palsy 40 years ago, he's been spending afternoons at the Woolworth's lunch counter ever since he was a student at Jefferson High School.
"Bobby falls in love through that window 20 times a day," says Bonnie Campbell, the lunch-counter manager.
A relative newcomer, Campbell has been at the store for two years - plenty of time for her to blend in and bond with the regulars. She helps Johnson sometimes with his homework from Virginia Western Community College, where he tape-records his psychology and English lectures.
"He was beefing up his resume the other day, and we were reading it for him," Campbell recalls, smiling. "He has a problem typing: His typewriter stutters along with him.
"We're real proud of Bobby."
Campbell isn't worried about the news that Woolworth's may close some of its stores. Managers say the Campbell Avenue operation operates at a steady profit, despite the competitive downtown climate.
"There's a lot more competition now - at our front door and at our back door," Campbell says. "But the regulars, they're Old Faithfuls.
"We know these people will never leave us."