Ode to State Liquor Store 109, circa 1976

The following contribution is an adaptation of the classic Christmas poem, but reinterpreted to capture a bit of Mahoning Valley life in the 1970s. A reader writes:

’Twas the day before Christmas and all through the store, customers purchased as if booze would be made no more. The manager, Mike, was pulling his hair, because business was so brisk the shelves were quickly getting bare.

We were so busy re-stocking bourbon, vodka, Canadian and blend, it seemed like the day would never end. Wild Turkey, Ancient Age, Maker’s Mark and Jim Beam passed through the check-out so fast the cashier was ready to scream.

Imperial, Black Velvet, Kessler’s and Old Crab were in such demand that carts were used because people couldn’t hold bottles in their hands. Tequila was going so fast that section was taken by storm. They were grabbing anything in sight, even if it had a worm.

By one, by two and then by three, our stack of cases was getting low – especially the favorite: El Toro.

Usually store hours were noon to 9, but Christmas Eve meant an earlier time. When a customer left, two more would arrive, that’s part of the reason we closed at 5.

After the last-minute surge, we’d breathe a sigh of relief, consider our job nearly done after taking much grief. Finally, we’d look down at the dirt on the floor, then take the key and lock the door.

Because the day’s receipts were the best of the year, the manager would jump, shout and cheer. That’s when the state got a whopping deposit that was through the roof – at least 100 proof!

– John Bassett, Hubbard