photograph courtesy memphis public library and information center
Dear Vance: Looking through the digital archives of the Memphis Public Library, I came across this photo of a building on Madison, taken in the 1940s. Carved in stone across the top, below “1910,” is “D.C. Brignole.” Where was this place, who was Brignole, and why did someone name a building after him? — L.P., Memphis.
Dear L.P.: Study this photo carefully, and you’ll notice the old-style concrete marker for Madison at the street corner. Above the names of two of the businesses on the ground floor are street numbers: 1756 for the Idlewild Café, and 1760 for the Silver Liquor Store. So with that rather specific information, I can answer your first question: The building you see here was located in Midtown, at the northwest corner of Madison and Auburndale. Is it still standing today? Well, read on.
Now, for your second question, I can tell you that the full name across the top of the building is Dominick Brignole, but nobody named this place for him. It was his own building, erected in 1910; he put his name on it; and here’s his rather remarkable story.
Born in Genoa, Italy, in 1863, Dominick met a woman named Dominicka (sometimes spelled Domenica) and — with almost matching names — how could he not marry her? I don’t know the exact date of that event, or when they both came to America. What I do know is they first show up in the city directories here in 1889, renting an apartment at 81 Exchange. Brignole was listed as a porter (or delivery man) for the firm of A.S. Barbaro. This old Memphis company, located on Main Street, advertised “European Products A Specialty” and they were “importers and dealers in foreign and domestic fruits, nuts, prunes, preserves, fancy groceries, olive oil, macaroni, vermicelli, wines, liquors, and bitters.” A fellow from Italy probably felt quite at home among such products.
Under the headline “Brignole Is In Again,” the newspaper observed, “The Italian merchant who steadfastly refused to lay a sidewalk in front of his store spent the night in the city prison, chafing like a madman.” The story continued, “The police were ordered to arrest Brignole every day until the sidewalk was laid.”
Perhaps this is why, after only two years, Brignole opened his own fruit stand, at the corner of Madison and Desoto (what is present-day Fourth Street). Within a year, this small place expanded to the point where he ran large newspaper ads announcing “Fancy groceries, fruits, cigars, and tobacco.” One detail in the ad told me Brignole was a sharp businessman: As early as 1904, he listed a telephone number — Mem-3079 — at a time when very few Memphians had that newfangled gadget in their homes.
By 1908, he had added a saloon to his store, and his ads informed customers that he was a “manufacturer of the original Italian grape juice wine.” About that time, his son, Antonio, joined his father in the growing business; the city directories list him as a clerk, and it’s possible Dominicka also helped out. She’s not specifically mentioned, but with family-owned concerns, usually the whole family was involved.
illustration by Harts and Earls, Delineators / courtesy special collections, university of memphis libraries
Designed by noted Memphis architect Roy Harrover, the Madison Professional Building opened in 1974. Over the years, it has changed very little from the original rendering shown here.
In 1910, Brignole decided to expand, so he moved several miles east and erected the handsome building you see here, putting his name and date in the stone across the top. The grocery was on the ground floor, and he lived with his wife and son in a spacious apartment above the business. Even though his name was prominently displayed, he decided to embark on an ambitious venture — a chain of stores that he would call “Your Store.” I found a small Commercial Appeal article that mentioned his plan to open nine stores around the city, but for some reason, he followed a different approach.
Within a few years, Memphians could shop at three Your Store locations, but Brignole didn’t own all of them. Instead, a fellow named Idus Bowers (possibly related to Duke C. Bowers, who operated a large chain of groceries in this region) became president of Your Stores, Inc., and Brignole was apparently only the owner of Store #1 — the one you see here. Your Store #2 opened at 130 Poplar Avenue, with Your Store #3 at 923 Madison Avenue. Each of these offered a special service to customers: “All orders for $1.00 and over delivered.”
Can anyone imagine a time when you could do your grocery shopping and not even spend a dollar?
It seems to me that, in a rather short period of time in our city, Brignole demonstrated a keen eye for business. I don’t know what kind of person he was, exactly, since I never met him, but a tiny newspaper article gives some clue that he must have been quite a character. Around this time, you see, the city fined him $50 for not laying a sidewalk in front of his business on Madison (then as now, I guess, sidewalks were the responsibility of the property owners, not the city). Well, when Brignole refused to pay the $50, the judge invited him to spend a night in jail. After he got out, and still refused to follow the city’s demands, he went back to jail. Under the headline “Brignole Is In Again,” the newspaper article observed, “The Italian merchant who steadfastly refused to lay a sidewalk in front of his store spent the night in the city prison, chafing like a madman.” The story continued, “The police were ordered to arrest Brignole every day until the sidewalk was laid.”
I don’t know how this ended; the newspapers left readers in suspense by not following up on the situation.
In 1916, Brignole sold his business to the United Stores chain of groceries. The property at 1760 Madison became Store #21, while he and his family continued to live on the second floor. Meanwhile, son Antonio left the family business, taking a job as a machinist with Memphis Auto Company on Union, while doing bicycle repairs on the side.
Dominick Brignole passed away December 11, 1929, and was laid to rest in Calvary Cemetery. I’m not sure what Dominicka did after that — she’s not listed in the city directories — but she joined him there in 1941. Antonio — later known as Anthony — became a captain with the Memphis Police Department, passing away in 1992. He’s buried alongside his parents at Calvary.
The building went through quite a few owners after Dominick’s death. It remained a grocery for a few years, then became home to a series of liquor stores. In this photo, taken in the 1940s, the Silver Liquor Store posted “Liquor” in paint and neon signs in a half-dozen different places on the walls and windows. I presume the nicely painted Double Cola ad at the top corner was left over from the building’s days as a grocery. Not many people — not even the Lauderdales — shop for Double Cola at a liquor store. After that, it became home to various drug stores, including Battle’s Pharmacy and Harper’s Drug Store.
The smaller businesses to the west also changed hands rather often. Over the years, customers could find Durham Brothers Plumbing, Breeden Radio Company, the Evergreen Tea Room, Gene’s Sandwich Shop, Daniel’s Restaurant, and (as you can see here) the Idlewild Café tucked into these narrow bays.
The last business to occupy 1760 Madison was Jimmy Webb’s, a cozy neighborhood bar that opened here in 1950. I turned up a CA article that admired the “old-timey beer parlor” and had this to say: “The cheeseburgers at Jimmy’s contained enough grease for any Southern man’s chin. The cracks in the floor and walls, and the holes above where the gas lights used to be, offered a bedraggled executive or a promising art student a loose atmosphere to knock back a few beers and relax.”
That article was essentially the building’s obituary. Developers had announced plans to tear down the old place and replace it with a six-story medical building. “Everybody knows everybody here,” lamented one customer, “People really feel at home here.” Jimmy Webb closed the doors on the last day of December in 1969. Bulldozers quickly cleared away most of the block.
Designed by noted architect Roy Harrover, who also created Memphis International Airport, Memphis College of Art, Mud Island, and other iconic structures around town, the Madison Professional Building opened here in 1974. It was certainly impressive, but — let’s face it — neighbors claimed the gleaming white, 80,000-square-foot cube didn’t quite mesh with the older homes and businesses around it. Half-empty in recent years, new owners are presently upgrading the interior and hoping to fill the building with more tenants. As I drove by recently, the first thing I noticed outside was the nice sidewalk. What would Dominick Brignole think of that?
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Mail: Vance Lauderdale, Memphis magazine, P.O. Box 1738, Memphis, TN 38101
