Wednesday, August 19, 2020


Winn's - The Unfriendly Discount Miracle


I still remember the first time I went in Winn’s Cut Rate, a junky everything-but-the-kitchen-sink store a block off Broad Street, across from the old Kingsport Times News offices.
The reason I remember that first time so well is because it was also the last time I went in Winn’s Cut Rate.
I had ridden downtown with my dad and while he ran his hardware store on Supermarket Row, I was allowed to wander downtown. I started by walking to the library, browsing my favorite sections, the humor books and the ESP books, before heading up Broad.
There were stops at McCrory’s and J. Fred’s and Freel’s and all the other downtown staples before I decided to venture down Market.
I’d never been inside Winn’s. I’m not sure if I had ever even seen it. But it looked enticing, especially to a 10-year-old boy with his weekly allowance burning a hole in  his pocket.
The window was filled with hand-written signs for baseball cards, army canteens, air mattresses, tear gas pens, everything a kid would want.
I was wandering the aisles, examining anything that looked remotely interesting, when I heard a voice from the back, a gruff, unfriendly voice: “Can I help you?”
I responded, as if by rote, “No thank you, I’m just looking.” I had heard my mother say that a thousand times in stores.
“Well, if you’re just looking, then get out. This ain’t no museum.”
Wow, what a way to treat a customer. I beat a hasty retreat all the way back to my father’s store and told him about my confrontation with Mr. Winn. My dad just shook his head.
Over the years I would hear a similar story from many, many people.
I had heard it so often that when I moved back to Kingsport in 2002 to take care of my mother and started writing a column for the Times News, I knew I had to write about Winn’s.
I did in 2005.
I was reminded of the column a couple of weeks ago when a photo popped up in my inbox, the front of Winn’s, courtesy of my buddy Mike Milhorn.
I dug out that old column and started researching Winn’s on newspapers.com. If Winn’s was, as his sign advertised, “The Discount Miracle,” then newspapers.com is the Research Miracle, a tool that lets you search the text of thousands of old newspapers, including the Kingsport Times News.
Winn’s wasn’t just an unfriendly store, it was proudly so. In a 1967 ad Winn explained that philosophy:
WINN'S DISCOUNT STORE
THE UNFRIENDLY STORE
OUR POLICY
We don't invite you to come in, look around and say hello. We're not interested in polite conversation and chi chat. We are not a social institution. We are a business institution. We are interested in giving you speedy service at lowest prices. If that's what you wish, try us!
I just found that ad on newspapers.com a couple of days ago but it explains everything.



Here is that 2005 column I wrote about Winn’s:

The first great mystery of Winn’s Cut Rate was why it was called Winn’s Cut Rate. The owner wasn’t named Winn. He was named David Silber. There were rumors that Winn was a childhood nickname or that it was some sort of franchise.
The second great mystery was how Winn’s Cut Rate stayed in business. Winn - as everyone called Silber - was perhaps the worst salesman in history. Certainly he was the worst in Kingsport’s history.
Mike Milhorn remembers the first time he went in Winn’s. “My dad’s paint store was just down the street. I’d seen all the signs in his window for hunting and fishing stuff so I went in. He came out of the back and asked if he could help me. I told him I was just looking and he growled, ‘This isn’t a damned museum. Get the hell out of here.”
You’ll hear that story over and over from people who tried shopping Winn’s bargains when they were little kids. A surly owner who seemed more intent in running customers off than bringing them in.
And yet Winn’s Cut Rate was a Market Street institution for twenty years, from 1954 to 1974.
And also a Market Street legend because of Winn and his personality.
Winn’s Cut Rate, also known as Winn’s Discount Heaven, opened in Five Points in 1954, moving to 207 East Market in December of that year. It later moved across the street to 122 East Market, just a few doors from Central Barber Shop. That’s how Darrell Perry got to know Winn.
“They said he was a pharmacist by trade and came down here from Kentucky.”
Darrell especially remembers Winn’s marketing sense. “He did his own window decoration, lots of little signs.”
The signs would promote whatever Winn had on sale that particular week. One week a sign for shotgun shells caught Darrell’s eye. “He had them for a dollar a box. I went in and bought one. That made him mad. He said, ‘Them are for my regular customers,’ and wouldn’t sell me no more. So everybody that came in the barber shop that day I would give them a dollar and send them down there to get me a box. Finally when I sent my shine man Radford, Winn told him, ‘I know who’s sending you down here, it’s that damned barber.’” But by then Darrell had a trunkful of shotgun shells, all acquired at a discount.
Winn's ad from 1971

Two other of Winn’s peccadilloes stand out among the folks who remember him or anybody who ever saw him or anybody who ever tried to shop with him.
One was his coffee habit. The other was his ubiquitous transistor radio, in an era when transistor radios were rare.
Many people talk about how he would walk up and down Market and Broad carrying his transistor radio. Darrell says, “I passed him one day and the ball game was on his radio. I asked him ‘What’s the score, Winn?’ He said, ‘I don’t know. I just carry it for the noise.’”
His other quirk was his coffee. This was in the day before office coffeemakers so Winn would trudge down the street to Bob Harkleroad’s restaurant, the Smoke House, to get his coffee and then trudge back to his store. “He had a tin cup he’d carry to get it,” says Darrell. “One day he was coming back holding that cup out and this woman goes past and drops a nickel in his cup. She thought he was a beggar! He pitched his coffee and just started cussing!”
Another unsatisfied Winn's customer - 1973

But there was more to Winn than his gruff exterior. Troy Brown at Wallace News says, “He was actually a good fellow. He came in here all the time to get a sandwich. I know he was ornery. You just had to fire it right back at him.”
Bill Green at Jan-Mar agrees. “He was a good fellow. He may have run off a lot of little boys over the years but he took care of his customers. He was a sharp businessman. He knew he was running off people who weren’t going to buy anything anyway.”
Mike Milhorn says he finally solved Winn. “He had stuff I was interested in so I kept going in. I’d take my money out of my pocket and hold it in my hand so he could see it. Once I started going in with money in my hand, he wouldn’t run me out. I’d actually buy stuff.”

Winn's sideline 

More on Winn: Bill Green at the Jan Mar told me that Winn loved to play poker. In fact it was this love of poker that killed him, indirectly. Bill said Doc - a lot of people called him Doc, according to Bill - would ride the bus back to Kingsport after he retired to Harlan, Kentucky. At the time it was about a two hour ride. He said Winn got off the bus one morning and was crossing Stone Drive to the Eagle’s Club, where Winn played poker every Wednesday, when he was hit by a car. The collision didn’t kill him but it broke his hip and he eventually died of pneumonia.
Bill couldn’t remember when Winn died but thought he was about ninety.
I checked the Social Security Death Index but I never could figure out which David Silber was our Winn.
I tried all sorts of combinations - Kentucky as his last residence, Tennessee as his last residence, Kentucky as the state of issue for his Social Security card - and got no match.
If I use a simple search for David Silber, I get eight matches.
The closest match is a David Silber who was born June 28, 1903, got his Social Security card in West Virginia and died August 5, 1989 in Garner, North Carolina. Garner is near Raleigh. Perhaps he had a relative there.

Winn's closes in 1974


A couple of days ago I found in a 1925 edition of the Harrisburg, Pa. newspaper a “David Silber” listed as passing the state exam to be an assistant pharmacist.

Winn's first ad in 1954


Wednesday, August 12, 2020

Watauga Street in 1957




A few years back Marty Harrison suggested I write a column about the houses where Kingsport’s founding families lived.
I liked the idea and even went so far as to put together a list from an old city directory of Who Lived on Watauga Street in 1957. And then I got distracted by some other column topic and then I quit writing a column.
But I found that list of Watauga Street residents a few days ago. I had started at 1122 Watauga – I don’t remember why – but that address looked familiar.
So I did a word search on my highly inefficient computer filing system and discovered that almost fifteen years ago I had written a column about that house.
So today’s blog post is a two-fer: that long ago column about A.D. Brockman’s house and the list of 1957 Watauga Street families.



1122 Watauga
It looks like a postcard, the house on the hill on Watauga Street. That’s because it is a postcard.
When I first noticed the For Sale sign in the yard of 1122 Watauga Street, I knew there was something about the house. “Why does it look so familiar?” I kept asking myself. Then it hit me.
So I got in touch with Bob Lawrence, who looked through his collection of old Kingsport postcards and, sure enough, that house is on a postcard, one issued in the forties by Asheville Post Card Company.
The postcard is titled “Night Time Scene on Watauga Street” and shows three houses. The house at 1122 Watauga is in the middle of a tranquil late night scene with a moon rising over the home’s roof.
I looked up the house’s real estate listing on the Internet, where it’s described as an historic home.
It is an historic home but it’s more than that; it’s a landmark, a home that has it’s own postcard.
When I told Melinda Hatfield, the listing agent at Blue Ridge Properties, that the home was featured on an old postcard, she offered to take me on a tour and even brought along two members of the family that built the house in 1920.
The house was constructed for A.D. Brockman, who had moved to Kingsport in 1916 to head up First National Bank. Brockman hired architect Allen Dryden Sr. to design the home and Dryden threw himself into the plans, creating a home with many unique touches - including Kingsport’s first skylight - and plenty of bedrooms for what Brockman planned to be a large family.
Melinda invited Frances Brockman, A.D.’s daughter-in-law, and Cheryl Brockman Wyker, his granddaughter, to tag along on my tour and fill me in on the home’s history. “When Dad built the house this was Kingsport’s Gold Coast,” said Frances. In the twenties all the local captains of industry were building homes on Watauga. J. Fred Johnson had started the movement with his three-story mansion up the street. Soon his house was surrounded by the homes of the men who ran the brickyard and the paper mill.
“The manager of the cement plant built a house on one side of this one,” said Frances. “And the man from the Press lived on the other side.”
It must have been a little lonely at first with just Brock, as he was called, and his wife Joyce. She was an Oberlin College graduate who moved to Kingsport in 1917. “She read that the poor Appalachian area needed teachers so she moved here to teach French and Phys. Ed. at the old Kingsport high school.”
Soon the home was filled with the sounds of children, first Phyllis then Jim, Dick and Shirley.
Shirley couldn’t make it to the tour but she told me over the phone about how much she loved her bedroom with its window seat where she would read the hours away. “In the spring I would open the windows and the room would be filled with the scent of lilacs.”
Shirley may have been the youngest but she didn’t act it. Frances said that Shirley would help her brother Dick - Frances’ late husband - memorize his poetry assignments. “He and Shirley would sit at the top of the steps and they would move down a step for each line they memorized. She memorized the poem before he did!”
The hall stairway, the heart of the house, was also the scene of another famous family story. Frances says, “Jim was taking violin lessons and he left his violin on the couch by the stairwell. Well, he came sliding down the banister, forgetting about his violin, and landed on the couch, right on top of the violin, ending his violin career.”
The grandchildren - eventually there would be 17 - began arriving in the fifties and they became a part of the house, too.
Cheryl remembers how special Sundays were. “The entire family - all the kids and the grandkids - would gather at the house on Sunday evenings. We would eat and then sit around and watch Ed Sullivan.” She remembers seeing the Beatles on Ed Sullivan at her grandfather’s house.
Sunday dinner was even more special. It was reserved for one family. The four families would rotate attending. Cheryl says her grandmother was a grand hostess for the Sunday dinners. “She was the epitome of the perfect lady. She would change and dress for dinner.”
Christmases in the house on the hill were also special. Frances says, “Every Christmas Dad would give Mom a dozen nylons. They were hard to get then. One year she just opened them and put them aside. He said, ‘Aren’t you going to look at them?’ ‘Why, Brock? They’re just nylons.’”
He finally convinced her they were worth more than a cursory glance. “He had hidden a diamond ring in the toe of one,” remembers Frances.
The house went out of the Brockman family in 1971, when Joyce died. A.D. had died in 1965. it came on the market again in the eighties. Cheryl said she considered it but her family had just bought a new home.
None of the Brockmans will be bidding this time either.
They say a new family can start a history in their old historic house, landmark house.



Brockman house from rear



Watauga Street in 1957
1122 A. D. Brockman
1129 Joe Lyle
1130 Frank Hale
1140 Martin Stone
1149 Irvin Fuller
1150 Jay Platt
1154 Lester Gregory
1157 Rochelle Bandy
LINVILLE
1204 Enoch Tipton
1205 Marvin Parsons
1211 Ennis Cox
1215 Mrs. Lockie Hufford
1216 George Taylor
1219 Mrs. Eleanor Martin
1220 Mrs. Joyce Hodge
1224 John R. Todd
1227 George Kenner
1228 Kermit Young
1233 Robert Crawford
1236 Mrs. Mary Peters
1237 Morton Duffer
1240 Pope Johnson
1244 Mrs. Lillian Palmer
1245 Mrs. Ruby Allen
1249 Hugh Gladson
1253 Ray Hauk
1261 W.B. Greene
LONGVIEW
1301 George Williams
1305 Domer Ridings
1306 Mrs. Mary Penn
1309 Howard Ross
1310 Ben Carson
1313 John Barnes
1316 Rev. Gibson Davis
1317 Mrs. Hester Brooks
1322 Bill Todd
1330 Mrs. J Fred Johnson
1333 Bill Prophet
1334 Shelton Reed
1337 Rev. Edwin Wiley
1341 Cliff Routh
1342 William Mills
1345 S K Addington
1346 Edgar Calloway
1349 Roy Pannell
1350 Edd Roberts
1353 Thomas Ramsey
1357 A. K. Husband
1358 Preston Taylor
1362 Charlie Palmer
1365 Milton DeVault
LAMONT
1401 Ed Shaulis
1402 N Buckles
1405 Paul Flamm
1406 John Borden
1407 Bob Freeman
1409 J. David Grubbs
1410 William H. Harrison
1413 Chambers
1414 Fred C. Ault
1421 Paul Henderson
1422 Tom Divine
1425 Bramlet Beard
1426 Ernest Cross
1429 Marvin Simpson
1433 J. E. Huffaker
1505 Frank Flanary



Brockman house skylight from 1920