Mighty Weggers

If a Ferrari is in the parking-lot, it’s Danny. (iPhone photo by BobbaLew.)

(Following is an overly verbose response to an e-mail from a college classmate who graduated Houghton College when I did. He read something in the NY Times about Wegmans opening a store in Brooklyn.)

—When I came to Rochester in October of 1966, after Houghton, but mainly to get away from my hyper-religious and overly judgmental parents (college was too much fun).....
There were two supermarkets near my humble $10 sleeping-room: a Mighty Weggers, and a Star Market adjacent.
Weggers was preferable, and always has been. Weggers seemed customer-driven, while Star seemed driven to line the pockets of its stingy owners.
Star eventually went defunct, replaced by Mighty Tops out of Buffalo, which also seems owner-driven. One open checkout for 89 bazilyun customers = get in line.
When Linda and I bought our house in Rochester, both Weggers and Star were up-the-street. But Star had a bad location: parking one floor below its store.
That Star closed, and Mighty Tops opened a grand new supermarket even closer to our house. But service there seemed questionable: one open checkout for 89 bazilyun customers.
Wegmans is a famblee business — it’s not public (that I know of). With Wegmans you’re dealing with the Wegman family, not stockholders.
Wegmans was founded in 1916 by John and Walter Wegman as the Rochester Fruit and Vegetable Company. They were succeeded by Robert Wegman, son of Walter. Robert died a few years ago, and was succeeded by son Danny, a car-guy. 454 Chevelle as a youth, now Ferraris (see photo above).
Weggers seems driven by the new business paradigm: just spend the money; you get it back in increased business.
When I drive back from photographing trains in Altoona, PA, my first stop is Mighty Weggers in Williamsport (PA). It seems like returning home.
Williamsport’s Weggers clientele seems crude, as if they’re trying to shop above station.
Flaccid thunder-thighs in short-shorts, and acres of deep cleavage.
The Williamsport Weggers also seems in a poor section of town, surrounded by junkyards and cluttered contractor sites. The west branch of the Susquehanna River is nearby.
Weggers was originally Rochester, and expansion out of Rochester was mainly Danny. He lives in nearby Canandaigua, a lakeside estate. You could say my Canandaigua Weggers is his store. If a Ferrari is in the parking-lot, it’s Danny.
Last Thanksgiving I drove back to my original digs in south Jersey. It was very depressing, reflecting my childhood, I guess. But there in the vast parking-lot of defunct Garden State Park, once a gigantic horse-racing track, was a glitzy new Weggers.
Danny kinda re-aimed Weggers: poor folk tossed in favor of suburban rich wannabees.
Weggers in Brooklyn is betting the people there will wanna appear rich.
Weggers more-or-less set the bar for other supermarkets. Their bananas are superior. No sickly Wal*Mart pretenders for this kid! “Hey Luke; lob me that plum. I’ll bat it outta the store with this here banana!”
Wegmans staffs to the hilt. Chipper employees everywhere, overly friendly, and all wearing Weggers uniforms. Never any waiting. Completely off-the-wall returns. Better to lose five buckaroos than lose a customer.
There are three supermarkets I shop. The nearest is pricy, Weggers not too bad for price, and Mighty Tops isn’t Weggers. Both Weggers and Tops are 25 minutes away in Canandaigua.
Wegmans claims “consistent low pricing.” They avoid door-buster sales of stuff I don’t need.
I’m mainly Weggers, but only because I know the store. Not their pharmacy though — that’s pretty ***** at the high-price supermarket. Weggers would be more convenient, since I’m in Canandaigua so often.
But pharmaceuticals are infrequent enough to patronize pretty *****. She seems to like having me as a customer. She knows me, and has my train-calendar. As do my hairdresser, dog-boarder, post-office, etc.
She looks forward to it, so she says. (“Oh goodie!”) I once  told her a long story about one of my train-photos. In one ear and out the other! But she loved it. I was telling her a story.
Things are much different since Linda died.

• My friend’s e-mail was 148 words — fairly verbose for him. This blog-response is 769 words, the bane of a word-guy. On average an e-mail might be 10-15 words; my response might be 30-100 words. My Facebook comments might be 100 words or more.
• Class of ’66 at Houghton.
• $10 per week or $10 per month. I can’t remember.
• “Linda” is my beloved wife of 44&1/2 years. She died of cancer over seven years ago.
• RE: “Photographing trains in Altoona, PA.......” —My brother and I are both railfans. Altoona is where the Pennsylvania Railroad began crossing Allegheny Mountain about 1846. The railroad is still there, but now it’s Norfolk Southern. Railroad operations there assault the heavens.
* Every year I do a calendar of train-photos my brother and I took in Altoona. I send them nationwide as Christmas presents. Plus I also give one to pretty *****, et al. I use Shutterfly.