𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫

This is a story recalling personal encounters at a store in Manhattan where I once worked. And played. Many fond memories, and memorable interactions. It's a joy to write about it, and I hope you enjoy the reading.

The store ... Johnny Jupiter. Situated at the time of my tenure at quite possibly the fanciest location on that fanciest of New York City shopping streets, Madison Avenue; in fact, at the epicenter of swell, right across from Ralph Lauren's fancy schmancy flagship store.  

Johnny Jupiter. 

A toy shop/gift store with a side dish serving of curios and antique country flea market folksy antique finds and collectables, with the occasional deL'objet trouvé et d'art. Party supplies, greeting cards, gift wrap paper and ribbon. Steiff bears and other such made critters. Steiff = "stiff". If you know, you know. 

And ... balloons. The latter which we filled with Helium and walked them over for customers' parties. I once hand delivered a red, white, and blue coupla dozen or so bouquet for President Nixon's birthday at Daughter Trisha's apartment. 

Here's some press to read ...

The store was small and jam packed, crammed floor to ceiling with shelves overflowing with classic small toys and that collectable other stuff. Bouncy balls of all kinds. Tin shovels and pails for the beach. Inflatable alligators and beach balls for the pool. A downtown type showed up one day; after taking a look around he asked, "What do you sell here, toys and shit?". Short and sweet. But, right on the money.

I could go on and on describing everything in detail, but my subject is on the personal encounters there. Just to say it was such an eyeful your eye didn't know where to go next. That was the charm of the place. Nice things for sale, a unique experience. For kids and adults alike. Merchandizing genius. Here's a collage I made from photos taken with the shop decorated for Halloween:

The owner Jerry Harmyk is a brilliant designer and merchandizer. [Currently he's set up shop in Madiera Island. A whole nother story.] Store windows just as overfull and entertaining to the eye as the store. Eye candy. Masterful use of vertical space.

I did say brilliant. He was called upon to decorate a sample children's party table at Tiffany's. Did the Wizard of Oz tableau at a major New York City Library fundraiser event included along with many other treatments by the famous in the fashion and design world. I got to play the Wizard of Oz. Alas, the first casting choice, James Earl Jones, could not fit it into his schedule. That's a whole other story. The title on that one would be, "From Somebody to Nobody". There were meetings with many more of the big wigs in the Big Apple. My "wizard" was my usual sassy self. Can't forget a rather cranky Kurt Vonnegut. Wizard: "Hey, I know you!" Kurt: "I don't know you!" Kurt was "curt". I told a dirty joke to Dr. Ruth. 

And here's a photo of me behind the cashier counter — my dedicated assigned post — decorated for the Christmas holiday season. Those photos will give you a sense of it. Like I said, jam packed; but, beautifully so.

I loved working there. I was the cashier. Stood for the entire day in a space not much bigger than a square yard. Lots of good practice working on my standing skills. [Interesting since I took the job in the first place because my true calling in the field of Dr. Ida P. Rolf Method Structural Integration was getting much financial payback traction. Rolfing! It hurts. And, yes, it does ... like the dickens. But, only if you resist. Alas, a whole nother story.]

Speaking of standing. The store as I said was in a swanky neighborhood. Lots of the Upper East Side Big Apple rich and famous, movers and shakers. A parade of private school kids. Entertainment world celebrities. Richard Simmons! "My favorite movie star." Some of the most beautiful trophy wives and Park Avenue "Blonds in Black". Kept hotties. Lots of regular folks too. A Catholic nun was a regular. Hare Krishnas ... gave them all lollipops. A women selling exotic summer berries from her own garden. "Heps", we called her for short, worked at the Metropolitan Museum; she gave me a back of the house tour. A world infamous arms dealer. Interior design world luminaries [one, Mario Buatta, "The Prince of Chinz"]. 

The whole world came to Johnny Jupiter. To see me? I'd like to think so, who knows. But see me they did. I did not play the anonymous store clerk; more like the ringmaster is a highly kinetic tent on-the-edge-of-town type circus. Got to trot out my prankster alter ego. 

The owner, Jerry Harmyk, held forth in an "office" in the center of the store where he did his store business and kept an eye on things. His space was also not much more than a postage stamp sized. Once again, the store was really small, maybe a footprint of 500 square feet. Don't hold me to that; just a mental calculation from memory.

Okay, that's something to give you a sense of the store.

And, besides cashier I naturally fell into the role of entertainment director. My wise-guy persona had his day. From a school days Saturday job at a butcher shop stall in a large indoor market in Detroit. Customer: "Is that Beef Liver tender?" "Lady, that Liver's as tender as your Mother's heart." Good joke most of the time. Once though, that lady stormed away in a hurry screaming, "My Mother's heart ain't tender, goddammit!"

Now for those "encounters" ...

I mentioned Mr. Richard Simmons. He would stop by to get small fun gifts when he was in town. I would always make a fuss over him showing up. "Look folks, it's Mr. Richard Simmons ... my favorite movie star!" [Okay. I said that. He's not from in the movies.] "Mr. Simmons, are you available for autographs?" ["Yes."] "Attention shoppers! Mr. Richard Simmons will autograph your shopping bag! With every $50 dollar purchase!" His look with that was priceless.

Or, when I asked Cher for her autograph, and handed her a rubber tip gag pencil. Also another priceless look. BTW her Amex card read "Cher". 

One of the neighborhood boys would come into the store with his Norfolk Terrier and her new brood of puppies. Naturally we had a squeaky toy on hand for the occasion.

Boys from Saint David school: "What was Saint David famous for? Other than being a Saint of course." Never got the definitive answer. Kids today!

Little girls. Thank heavens for them. All sorts. Some would bake me cookies and bring Valentine's Day cards. Not all peaches and cream. One regular showed up and called me "dirt bag". I sent her packing, and not to come back until she could show some respect. One sassy little darling was admonished by her Mother to be nice to the "Little People". Like I said, it was the Upper East Side; the rich and privileged. On that one, I was not amused.

When I would overhear a Mother decline to buy something her kid wanted, I would interject: "Give three good reasons why your little darling should not have that!" With the capper, "Don't put a price on love!" And, sometimes when a Mom with child in tow would show up I'd enthusiastically announce the good news: "Today is 'Free Kitty Day', go and pick one out. In fact, you're so cute, take two!" Mom would stand there shaking her head no at me behind the kid's back. Somehow the kids intuitively were in on the joke. Never had an incident.

Loved to tease the little girls. Her: "I want a tutu." Me: "What color" "Pink." "Fresh out. What other color would you like?" "Blue." "Fresh out." Her: "So what color do you have?" And so it went. 

A good passel of "The Ladies Who Lunch". You know, Park Ave, Fifth; Birkin bags, pictures in the NY Times social events pages. For them we sold magic wands; foot long clear plastic sticks filled with floating colorful glitters, stars and other shops. For some reason it was a thing with those gilded dames. One in each purse. Birkin. Alligator Birkin, in fact. 

We had a "Customer Lounge". In fantasy. "Attention customers, the customer lounge is open on the second floor [no second floor in fact] and we're serving pitchers of Daiquiris. Enjoy." Or, at my cheeky best, "Attention ladies, if you are here for the Lambada contest, it is required that you wear panties!"

Oh, speaking of musical things, we always had music playing. The Gypsy Kings was a staple. "The Velveteen Rabbit" full story played on tape.

And, speaking of celebrities. One time I volunteered to deliver a few shopping bags to a famous actress' home. Lovely person. I was not given a tip, but offered a slice of Apple pie. I have a rich imagination, so you can imagine yourself what went on in my brain around that "pie". I stayed in delivery boy character, respectfully declined. Lesson: you don't mess with married women. Especially when they know where you can be found. The "Epstein Class" is not just guys. Rich broads can play around too. But, get easily bored. Sometimes it's best to keep things strictly on the fantasy level. And, I did have my fair share. Some real beauties showed up at the store. 

Usually we treated the famous and celebrities like regular folk. No special attention, or fuss. Once in a while I would ask whether they wanted the "star treatment". One notable TV guy actually did, and bristled at the question. Which is probably why I asked it in the first place. Chalk up one point for the little folk. I think many of those celebrities appreciated being treated like regular folk. Dustin Hoffman ... he came in, bought something, then left. Not much else to tell. See ... regular folk treatment.

The fashion designer Betsy Johnson went back with Jerry Harmyk from the days where his first store was in the Village. One day she shows up, with huge bangs and pig tails. My thrown comment, "Well, look what we have here, Little Raggedy Ann ... all growed up!" She was not amused. As Jerry would often say, "Not everyone is your customer."

Background: In my school days I had a part time job in another food store and miked the store announcements. I think that's where I got my start. My butcher shop boss had these words of wisdom which apparently didn't stick with me: "The world hates a smart-ass ... especially one that doesn't have any money." Elon Musk has been testing that pithiness. Or, "Some say it's tough to pay so much for a pound of steak. But if you don't it could be tougher."

So many, but one encounter in particular. Out of respect and affection I shall not name names. Jerry Harmyk will know for sure.

Small and slight of build, she must've been in her late 70's. Would walk the eight blocks from her digs to pay us a visit. In high heels! One tough old dame. She still lived in her childhood home, a duplex condominium in a doorman building at the ground zero of swank at 72nd and Madison. Christmas tree in the center hall dressed lavishly with imported glass ornaments. Kept on display year round. Dressed to the nines. Nylons with seams always straight.

Not to confuse, it should be pointed out that the store's last incarnation was a move from 72nd and Madison to Lexington Avenue between 81st and 82nd. 

Her family was part of society and obviously very wealthy. Our lady was part of the debutante Stork Club set. She once stopped by and showed me a full jewelry set of a mass of darkest red Rubies on her way to a jeweler to have it cleaned. Just casually tucked away in her purse. 

She was a preferred customer. With a stool to sit down and cool her heals. The only one ever as far as I know with the privilege of smoking a cigarette in the store. A rather crusty sort also. Never held back a critical observation. A favorite — concerning a little girl in the store at one time— "That child is a plain as a mud fence." I've always have been fond of metaphors. Jesuit education, probably. Dubbed myself the "Metaphor King". As metaphors go, that "mud fence" is a classic.

Johnny Jupiter was famous for gift bags. Imagine a big colorful gloss enamel gift bag full of little this's and that's. Each wrapped separately in colorful tissues with a curling ribbon bow. Curled ends, of course. We had custom orders to send gift bags to kids away at Summer camp. 

One privileged regular would have the boss himself elaborately gift wrap her special gifts. One time for something for that special treatment for a potential paramour I went to the Pleasure Chest erotica shop to fetch a French tickler to adorn the presentation. I got the message, and I imagine so did the recipient. 

Thanks for the memories ...