One of my fondest memories as a child was being able to go to my grandpa’s gas station. My Grandpa Tom and his brother Joe owned “ Frenchy’s” a service station in Downtown Duluth. Frenchys was located on 1st Ave East and 1st Street. They opened it in 1960 and it closed either in the late 80’s or early 90’s. Every Sunday when church is over we drive past the location and an overwhelming sense of nostalgia passes through me.
Grandpa’s gas station was located right in the heart of the “Bowery”. The homeless people used to sleep in an area under 1st Avenue until the city sealed it off. Grandpa made projection videos of the drunks, prostitutes and homeless people that habitated the streets. (IF I ever find a projector I could watch the old movies)
The local police officers loved to hang out at Grandpa’s station. I would often find them sitting at the counter writing a report or visiting with Grandpa. I was usually greeted with a big hug or carried around by some of the local officers. I would sit and visit them while savoring the taste of the glass bottled coca cola that came from grandpa’s machine.
Sometimes I would wander into the service station and watch Uncle Joe at work. The rugged scent of oil and metal has always stayed with me and when I go into a shop- I see myself standing in the doorway looking at a car with Uncle Joe under the hood.
Grandpa’s gas station was located right in the heart of the “Bowery”. The homeless people used to sleep in an area under 1st Avenue until the city sealed it off. Grandpa made projection videos of the drunks, prostitutes and homeless people that habitated the streets. (IF I ever find a projector I could watch the old movies)
The local police officers loved to hang out at Grandpa’s station. I would often find them sitting at the counter writing a report or visiting with Grandpa. I was usually greeted with a big hug or carried around by some of the local officers. I would sit and visit them while savoring the taste of the glass bottled coca cola that came from grandpa’s machine.
Sometimes I would wander into the service station and watch Uncle Joe at work. The rugged scent of oil and metal has always stayed with me and when I go into a shop- I see myself standing in the doorway looking at a car with Uncle Joe under the hood.
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