In the old days, we're talking the 1950's, before there were spas for mudbaths and hot rock treatments, there were real spas where you could buy a Hostess Twinkie or a Devil Dog and wash it down with a Razz-Lime or a Cherry Coke. They were tiny places that stocked what we now call junk food, comic books, newspapers and penny candy. The smell was sublime, a combination of comic book paper, Bazooka Bubble Gum and grape Popsicle drippings.
One spa in particular played a very important role in my young life. That was Grogan's Spa. It was owned and run by Ma Grogan who was a living cliché of the crusty old lady with a heart of gold. I went to an all-boys private boarding school where the only women were faculty wives, most of whom were, for good reason, horrified to be living among hundreds of adolescent boys.
All of us boys, especially the younger ones were lonely and painfully homesick, trying to be tough and self sufficient and mostly failing. At night, in the freshman dorm, after lights out, and after Henry the night watchman turned the big brass key in his clock, you could hear the soft murmuring of boys crying themselves to sleep.
So, where did hundreds of motherless boys go for nurture, for kindness and for a small taste of home? Ma Grogan's. Everyone called her Ma, even the hulking football players. She was always there, behind the small soda fountain. Mr. Grogan was long gone. She had two sons; one in prison for unknown crimes, and the other a long distance trucker who never called home. She referred to all of us as 'my boys'.
One of the most special things about Grogan's, at least from a thirteen year old point of view, was that everyone ran a tab. How Ma kept track of it all was a mystery to me, but she did. Most of the boys at the Academy received a weekly allowance from the purser, so the tab was a practical matter since none of us could manage money very well. Ma knew when you got your money so you always got reminded to pay your bill. Those few who didn't found out that Ma had some kind of direct line to the Headmaster so your Grogan's bill got paid whether you wanted it to or not.
The place was very small, a couple of booths and a four seat soda fountain. There was a rack of chips and the usual Twinkie stuff and penny candy. I never could figure out why, but you could only get soda in quart bottles. If you didn't drink it all, Ma would put it away for you and get it out the next time you came in. How she remembered two hundred kid's soda bottles was another mystery.
There were lots of magazines and comic books, which you didn't have to buy. You could just read them and put them back on the rack. Boy's Life, Popular Science, The Fantastic Four, Superman and of course Donald Duck and Archie. Easy to understand why it was such a popular place. I'll never forget watching Ray Peterson, the captain of the wrestling team, 'Big Ray' to everyone when he was around and 'no-neck Ray' when he wasn't, eat six devil dogs and drink a quart of root beer while reading the latest Donald Duck comic.
Since I was raised in a dentist's home where sugar was forbidden, walking into Grogan's for the first time was a religious experience. Realizing that I could have whatever I wanted and as much as I wanted started me on a sugar-junk food binge that lasted for about two years. I went from having no cavities to having a mouth full of them. When my father saw what had happened to my beautiful teeth he was heartbroken. But he figured out a way to discourage me from such behavior in the future. He filled all the cavities . . . without using Novacaine.