West Side Canvas: Joseph, an UWS Family Pharmacy

Family Pharmacy
By Robert Beck

“April 16, 1944,” she shouted across the prescription counter. It took everyone at that end of the store by surprise, including the employee at the register, who was on the phone. The old woman inside the large wool coat tapped her cane on the floor. “Nineteen forty-four,” she said again, this time with less of an edge, nodding her head with pride. “I’ll be right with you,” the counterperson said.

A minute later, the young lady hung up and with a smile asked the woman how she could help her. “April 16, 1944,” the pale face in the mound of heavy fabric announced again, back in force and ready to show she knew the protocol.  

There were plenty of senior citizens in Joseph Pharmacy (between Amsterdam and West End on 72nd) this very cold Saturday before Christmas. All of them were in big coats. I was set up near the heating pad display, and it seemed that every other customer bought one.  

Joseph carries a large selection of products. The wall at the far end of the counter that I was facing had slippers and socks. My corner of the store had bathroom hand-holds and other geriatric helper devices, and I had to be mindful of the more unsteady visitors making their way around my easel. Customers were padding down the narrow aisles, taking up more space than usual in their winter garb, employees were helping them find items and read directions, delivery people were coming and going, and one worker was dispatched to the other store to retrieve a medicine—a few minutes away—because they found it was out of stock at this location. The customer waited. It didn’t take long. Nowhere will you find more evidence of what you surrender for the privilege of the major pharmacy chain experience.   

Joseph is a place that welcomes small dogs, little children, and first names. One very young girl complimented me on my work. I asked if she was a painter. “Yes,” she said, as she twirled her fingers against her legs, “watercolor.” “Would you like to help me?” I asked. She smiled and nodded.

I mixed a color onto my brush, handed it to her, and pointed to four spots at the bottom of my panel. “Can you put this color in these places for me?” Blip, blip, blip, blip, she did just that, then went off to talk with someone in cosmetics.

The girl was the only customer who paid much attention to me. People would arrive at the counter, do a quick scan of that end of the room, pause when they caught sight of me, and mouth the word “Painting,” as if it were the answer to today’s secret question. But they didn’t come over to see what I was doing.

The pharmacy is a visually busy subject, and there were other challenges. The store music was set to a station playing holiday carols, and my location didn’t allow me to stand back from my easel far enough for comfort. It was like writing with a short pencil stub, while Dean Martin reminded us for the umpteenth time that he’ll be home for Christmas.

* * *

See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

Listen to an interview with Robert Beck on Rag Radio — Here.

Note: Before Robert Beck started West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. See Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

Subscribe to West Side Rag’s FREE email newsletter here. And you can Support the Rag here.