photograph by Jon w. sparks
Editor’s Note: A city is to be shared. Roughly a million people live in what we might call “Greater Memphis,” a hub that stretches east to Germantown and Collierville, and even across state borders (and a mighty river) if we include West Memphis and Southaven. But here’s the charm of a city as distinctive as Memphis, Tennessee: It’s a different home for every one of us. There are residents of Midtown who feel like they need to pack a suitcase if they travel east of Highland. Likewise, some East Memphians schedule trips Downtown like a special event. What makes Memphis home for you? If you had to identify one place or thing that makes the Bluff City singular, what would it be?
We asked eight writers to define “My Memphis” in a single essay. While it’s impossible to answer such a challenge on a single page, it’s a start. And we hope it reminds you of a place (or thing) that makes this amazing city your home too. Feel free to share your version of “My Memphis” with us.
My 10-year-old granddaughter and I strolled into A. Schwab and did a long, slow take, turning around slowly and looking near, far, high, and low. “It’s all so random,” she observed. We had first gawked through the windows at 163 Beale Street, taking note of the astonishing array of stuff — pardon me, dry goods — that promises on its neatly painted window sign to have music, keepsakes, and clothing.
Does it ever.
It’s not so much a place you go to get what you want as it is a place to find what you never imagined you needed. It has practical items, sure, like the Public Toilet Survival Kit. And those are right next to the meerschaum pipes and Hillbilly Bubble Bath.
They know what you want, even before you do, since the store has been there since 1876. That’s almost 150 years of customer research.
If you need something for that hard-to-please someone, then quit overthinking it: Simply stand in the middle of the store, close your eyes, and point. Whatever you’ve fingered, buy it.
The store’s inventory is eclectic. Hats, plushies, novelty socks, Interstate Barbecue tiles, back scratchers, overalls, something called Bacon Balm, LOTS of T-shirts, ukuleles and harmonicas, salves and slippers.
If you need something for that hard-to-please someone, then quit overthinking it: Simply stand in the middle of the store, close your eyes, and point. Whatever you’ve fingered, buy it. It might be a pop culture lunchbox, or some rubber duckies done up as celebrities (Jurassic Quack, Aviary Grande), or a set of chatter teeth.
Overwhelmed yet? You can always adjourn to the 50-foot marble counter and settle in with a waffle cone or frosted shake. Yes, they have soda jerks. And after that, head upstairs to the Beale Street museum for a bit of time travel.
Keeping in mind that it’s a Beale Street fixture, you’ll find all manner of touristy souvenirs. Prominently featured is a Weekly Elvis Special display. And Sun Studio and Stax signs are strewn about. Thank you verra much.
Elsewhere, visit the Moon Pie section including wearables and a 550-piece jigsaw puzzle, or check out a Masonic display cluster with white gloves, a member’s manual, novelty license plate, and caps.
Schwab is the place where the memes you see today were born. There’s a collection of signage with such bon mots as: “Alexa, fold my laundry.” And “Too old for Snapchat … too young for Life Alert.” And “I laughed so hard, tears ran down my leg.” As you can see, when it comes to tastefulness, A. Schwab is somewhere between Babcock Gifts and Spencer’s at Wolfchase.
In other words, it’s weird, it’s fun, it’s air-conditioned, it’s historic. And it’s packed with a memorable Memphis mix of … stuff.
