My Trip to the French Market.

It was the happiest of coincidences. In the late summer of 2010, I spent a day in the Kansas City area visiting customers with a co-worker who was based there. Most of our meetings were on the “Kansas side” of town (as opposed to the “Missouri side”), which was largely new to me at the time.  We wrapped up in the late afternoon and adjourned to a local watering hole (McDonald’s) to grab a Coke and compare notes.

Leaving the restaurant, I glanced off into the distance and noticed what appeared to be, of all things, a castle on a hill – a dark, sprawling brick structure with two magnificent towers piercing the sky. “Whoa, it’s the French Market!” I exclaimed, recognizing it immediately, barely able to contain my excitement. “Uh, that’s Kmart, Dave”, my co-worker said, or something along those lines. True enough, of course, as the building had indeed housed a Kmart since 1970, and since my friend was in his mid-thirties, he wouldn’t have known it as anything else.

But once upon a time, it was indeed the French Market, a unique attempt at a discount store/supermarket with an international, old world flair. I first learned of it years ago on David Johnson’s wonderful “Discount Stores of the ‘60’s” site (which remains one of my favorites to this day), and felt I’d gotten to know it a bit from articles I read later on in old trade magazines. From all I’d read, the place was truly the talk of the town in its early years.

So after saying our goodbyes and exchanging the normal pleasantries, I hopped back into my car and proceeded to burn two five inch-wide, half inch-deep grooves into the pavement that spanned the distance between the McDonald’s and that most unusual Kmart.  During the (rather short) drive, visions of the French Market danced in my head. There I was, fantasizing about stepping through those doors into a pristine 1960’s faux-European marketplace, abuzz with beehived and Brylcreemed shoppers. Hoping to see at least some remaining features from the French Market’s glory days. And finding…pure Kmart. 

I’ll have to say it seemed nicer than most latter-day Kmarts. Cleaner, better stocked and more orderly - as if this location were one of the few remaining points of pride in that once-great organization.  And some vestiges of the French Market were indeed still visible, the most striking (besides the still-magnificent facade, of course) being a fixed awning along the upper inside front wall, once the home of the “Boulevard de France”, a collection of mini-shops, long since walled off below the awning for (presumably) office space.  

 

In September of 1962, a 54-year old family farmstead, located at the northeast corner of 95^th Street and Metcalf Avenue in the booming Kansas City suburb of Overland Park, was razed. The property had been the home of George and Agatha Barthol, who raised ten children there. Mrs. Barthol, by then widowed and living in a nearby neighborhood, made frequent visits back, according to a Kansas City Times newspaper article, to “(watch) heavy construction machinery reshape the land”. “Mother is not saddened by the sight”, her daughter was quoted in the article, “she’s happy to be where she is.”

Perhaps Mrs. Barthol shared somewhat in the excitement that was sweeping the greater community about the “all-in-one” shopping center about to rise on the site of her former home – a brand new discount department store and modern supermarket all under one roof. An exotic theme that was sure to draw attention to their growing community. And it was gonna be huge – a whopping  171,000 square feet total, with 135,000 square feet allotted to general merchandise and another 36,000 to food and drug – twice the size of the average 1963 supermarket.

The French Market was the first retail project of Kansas City-based entrepreneur Sherman Drieseszun.  Drieseszun had cut his teeth in the garment business, acquiring Vic-Gene Manufacturing with his nephew and business partner Frank Morgan. (There were only four years between them.) Vic-Gene was a supplier of private-label women’s garments to retailers.

In the ensuing years Drieseszun and Morgan would shift focus to developing numerous office building, mall and shopping center projects both in and outside the greater Kansas City area. Their most notable shopping center, arguably, was Metcalf South, which opened in 1967, just across 95^th Street from the French Market in Overland Park. Metcalf South was the area’s first enclosed mall, with Sears and The Jones Store as the original anchors.  Among the other malls the pair developed and/or owned at one point were East Hills Shopping Center in St. Joseph, Missouri,  Oak Park Mall in Kansas City, Crestview Hills Mall in northern Kentucky, Westminster Square Mall near Denver,  and Southwyck Mall in Toledo.

In later years some controversy would arise around Drieseszun’s shopping center holdings, and several newspaper articles lamented his lack of investment in older mall properties, allowing them to become dated and no longer competitive enough to attract quality retailers that would draw shoppers.  Upon his passing in 2007, however, he was hailed as a visionary who helped to reshape the Kansas City skyline, developing its two tallest buildings – AT&T Town Pavilion (now known as just “Town Pavilion”, and which itself incorporated a shopping mall) and One Kansas City Place.

To design the French Market, Drieseszun engaged renowned local architect Morris Schechter, who a few years earlier designed (with Raymond A. Bales) the famed TWA headquarters building in Kansas City, now rightly hailed as a mid-century masterpiece. Schechter’s work was reportedly inspired by Les Halles, the famous 19th century Parisian market, evoking its “feel” while sidestepping its fairly impractical design in favor of a more standard discount store template  (i.e.: a rectangular box.), with some unusual added features.

For the interior design work, Drieseszun went with the very best in the business – Brand-Worth and Associates, a Los Angeles-based retail design firm. In the 1960’s, no retail design firm was hotter than Brand-Worth, who produced stunning work for a list of clients that ranged  from Ralphs supermarkets to The May Company department stores. The French Market design team was led by Brand-Worth creative director Ray Jacobs, who “conducted extensive research into modern French design” for the project.  They definitely rose to the occasion, producing colorful décor throughout the store - bold in some areas, delicate in others, resulting in a successful “modern French” look, all rendered with the refinement and sense of whimsy that were among the firm’s trademarks.  

The supermarket portion of the French Market was operated by Floyd Day and Frank Armanees, who owned and operated five Thriftway supermarkets in the KC area. “The advertising and promotions of the French Market”, Progressive Grocer magazine noted, were “run independently of (Day and Armanees’) other operations.”  

On October 10, 1963, the French Market celebrated its Grand Opening, with all the attendant hoopla hailing “the quality of a Specialty Shop with the selection and value of a giant department store, in the relaxed atmosphere of a Paris market”. (I need to relax after typing that.) One can only hope that La Marseillaise, the French National Anthem, was played at the ribbon cutting. (Try listening to that without bursting into “Love, love, love…” after the first few bars. Didn’t think you could.) The opening day special was spot-on: French bread, transported from France “with the cooperation of Trans World Airlines” – for 8 cents a loaf! (Personally, I prefer my bread like this - flown in daily from Europe. It’s getting really expensive, though…) Apparently the festivities extended into a “2nd Great Week”, as the ad below attests, with a giveaway of authentic French coins and a chance to see “the championship sports car Grand Prix.”  

Promotional ballyhoo aside, delightful scenes greeted the shoppers of the French Market – the “Boulevard de France”, a series of small shops along a flower cart-lined “street”. Seating for the children’s shoes area masquerading as a trolley car. Decorative kiosks (long before the term became dreaded by mall goers) plastered with French travel posters. A hat tree and a “maypole” in the women’s apparel section. European road signs in the auto accessories section (Equipement d’une Auto). And all manner of faux French finery in the food departments, including “Bon Bons” and a “Bread Truck”. (Which is English for “Camion de Pain.” Now, I know you’re thinking “Wow, that’s worth the cost of Rosetta Stone by itself - what this guy won’t do to impress us!)

Unfortunately, the French Market’s run turned out to be brief, closing for good in May 1970. While I haven’t been able to locate much information relating to its demise, a July 6, 1970 Kansas City Times article offers some details, referencing a court judgment that was levied “for nonpayment of rent, cancellation of insurance, nonpayment of tax escrow funds and nonprevention of waste and deterioration of the premises.” Yikes.

Without question, this sad end was preceded by a long period of decline. I can only imagine how difficult (and expensive) it had to have been to maintain such a level of customized branding for what was essentially a one-off operation.

Those grand towers didn’t remain idle for long, however, as the same Kansas City Times article laid out the plans for the building’s future - as a new location for the fastest growing (and arguably most talked about) retailer of any kind in America at the dawn of the 70’s: Kmart. At the time, there were four Kmarts in the greater KC area, and that figure was about to double. 

Plans were announced for a new Kmart at Bannister and Hillcrest roads, two more in locations “soon to be announced”, and a fourth, the KC Times article stated, to be opened in the former French Market, resulting in “the largest K Mart in the Kansas City area”, according to John B. Hollister, S.S. Kresge’s vice president of real estate.    

“Extensive remodeling,” including “interior relighting and refixturing” would be soon underway, the article goes on to say. Presumably this meant the removal of the French Market’s unique and beautiful décor, to be replaced with the normal Kmart interior. (Funkily attractive in its own way, and easily the most fondly remembered Kmart interior design today. But anything but unique, of course, given the number of Kmarts in existence.)

One aspect of the planned remodeling, thankfully, appears never to have happened. The article refers to “work on a new single front entrance in the center of the market” that was put on hold due to a construction strike. Had the strike not occurred, it seems possible that the “French” façade, towers and all, might have been ditched altogether, leaving Overland Park with nothing more than a (really big) standard-issue Kmart.

The supermarket eventually ended up in new hands as well, becoming part of a leading Kansas City-based supermarket chain, Milgram Food Stores, which was founded in 1913 and known for some nicely-designed stores and their chipper “Hi Neighbor! “ slogan. The Milgram family sold the company (which had been briefly owned by Kroger earlier in its history) in 1984 to grocery wholesaler Wetterau, Inc., of St. Louis. Ultimately the “supermarket” portion of the building would become a Hancock Fabrics store.

Last October, I visited the Overland Park Kmart for what would sadly be the last time (while open, at least), as signs were up throughout the store announcing its imminent closing for good. December 15, 2013, turned out to be the last day of operation for the 43-year old Kmart. The Hancock Fabrics store closed soon afterward, relocating to a nearby shopping center. Reportedly, the building will be torn down in the near future to make way for a new Lowe’s home improvement center.

Overland Park, Kansas, remains a treasure-trove for old retail enthusiasts, and if you’re in the Kansas City area, I would highly recommend visiting it. (Along with KC’s legendary Country Club Plaza, an absolute must-see.) There is much of interest there, including Metcalf South, a fascinating semi-dead mall (only one anchor - Sears, still exists, along with a handful of other stores). There is also the stunning circa-1958 Katz Drug Store, which has been a CVS for some time now. And for just a little while longer, a little bit of France in the heartland of America.

I can’t help but wonder how a French-themed home improvement center might go over. It’s not too late, folks!

If anyone reading this has some personal memories of shopping at the French Market (Original Recipe or “Extra Kmart”) you’d like to share or can fill in some of the large gaps in its history, we’d love to hear from you!

The first set of black-and-white photos and the first color photo set are from Progressive Grocer – the June 1964 issue of the magazine, and from the book “Progressive Grocer’s Outstanding New Super Markets”. The photos in the second black-and-white set are Brand-Worth publicity shots that appeared in the March 1964 issue of Display World magazine.

A very special thanks to Brad Moore, master modeler and Overland Park historian, for providing the 1970’s close-up exterior photos of the Kmart and Milgram stores, and to David Johnson, first for providing the inspiration for this post through his website, and for the use of the wide composite view Kmart photo.

The final photos, shown below, were taken by me on a sunny early morning in October 2013. Note the fine composition and lighting in the interior shot. I call this the “shooting photos while pretending to check Facebook” technique.

Montgomery Ward's Georgian Period

Students of classic architecture are well familiar the Georgian Period. The term “Georgian” is used to describe a style of architecture that was originally popular from around 1720 to 1830, during the reigns of British monarchs George I, II, III (who was in power when America declared and fought for its independence) and IV. Some of the distinctive features of the Georgian style are a strong sense of symmetry, paneled windows, dormers, mansard roofs and “quoined” corners, meaning a series of cornerstones from the foundation to the roofline, with staggered or columnar edges. Much of what is called “Early American” architecture falls within the Georgian school. This style has enjoyed a tremendous resurgence in the last couple of decades and is frequently used to convey a sense of importance or stateliness, on bank branches for instance, or on upscale homes. (Love those McMansions, right?)

Montgomery Ward had a “Georgian Period” of its own, shorter and of course much later than the original. From the mid 1930’s up until Wards froze all new construction in 1941, many new and remodeled units were cast in the Georgian mold, to great effect in my opinion. The motivation for Wards in this case was straightforward – prior to 1935 or so, there was no consistent exterior theme to the company’s stores, and Wards wanted a distinctive look, one that would impart a quality image. Concerned that a modern style would age poorly and be out of style after a few years, Wards opted for a “colonial” look, according to Chain Store Age, “because of its perennial appeal, its naturalness and its uniquely patriotic atmosphere”. It was a good thing, because (unbeknownst to Chain Store Age, or anyone else, including Ward employees at the time) the style would have to carry the company for nearly two decades, until new construction was finally restarted in 1958.

Another benefit to the Georgian designs Ward put together was the cost flexibility they allowed. For mid-level markets, such as Glens Falls, NY (the seventh photo above), cheap standard brick could be used, painted or stuccoed over in a cream color. For higher end stores, more expensive facing brick was used, and for major market units such as Detroit’s huge Gratiot Avenue store (fourth photo above), they could go all out, adding such flourishes as large columns on a rounded corner, all the while maintaining harmony with the Georgian look. Like A&P, who would later adopt the Early American exterior style for multitudes of its supermarkets, the interiors of these stores generally did not follow the colonial theme.

In the early 1930’s, Montgomery Ward was in deep trouble. Having quickly converted its handful of “display stores” into standard retail units, and well aware of how far they were trailing Sears, Wards launched a frantic store construction program. With 36 stores at the end of 1927, the company opened 208 more stores the following year and another 288 in 1929. Wards went from no stores to over 500 in just over three years! As one might expect, this incredibly rapid rollout of stores by a company whose entire previous experience was limited to mail order led to chaos. Mail order employees were pressed into service as retail store managers with negligible training. Profits went into the tank (Wards had a $9 million loss in 1931 – undeniably the deepening depression made matters worse), and rumors began to fly that Montgomery Ward faced no choice but to merge with Sears.

Wards needed a hero, and in 1931, one came at the behest of J.P. Morgan and Co., Wards’ major stockholder. He was 57-year old Sewell Lee Avery, a respected Chicago businessman who was chairman of United States Gypsum, the nation’s largest manufacturer of plaster and wallboard, and who sat on the boards of U.S. Steel, Armour and Company, Container Corporation of America and a number of other firms. Avery had taken over his father’s plaster business in 1905 and combined it with a number of competitors to form U.S. Gypsum, and was a true darling of Wall Street in those depression days, able to operate lean and still make money. When J.P. Morgan and Co. asked, Avery eventually agreed to take on the challenge of leading Wards out of the swamp. Interestingly, he would continue to head U.S. Gypsum during the entire 25 years he ran Montgomery Ward.

Three key actions marked Avery’s early tenure at Wards. First, Avery immediately put the Sears-Wards merger rumors to rest. Secondly, a number of the weaker stores were closed off the bat. Most importantly, Avery installed a team composed of some of the sharpest young retail talent of the day to help run the business. First was Frank Folsom, head of merchandising, who came from San Francisco’s Hale Bros. department store chain. Raymond H. Fogler, VP of operations for the stores and the nine gigantic mail order catalog houses, came to Wards from W.T. Grant Company. Walter Hoving was R.H. Macy’s star executive vice president in charge of sales, and at Wards he would assume charge of the catalog, company advertising and package design. Walter Baumhogger, a 13-year company veteran with a fine track record in Ward’s Chicago store district, was put in charge of the retail store division.

Under Avery and his new team, major improvement at Wards came about fairly quickly. The loss for 1932 was $5.7 million compared to $9 million the previous year, and in 1933 Wards turned a $2.2 million profit. The retail stores, formerly an albatross, accounted for the improvement in profits, offsetting a small loss on the company’s mail order business. In January 1935, Fortune magazine profiled the company’s turnaround, calling it “a notable rejuvenation of the Ward company“. Avery had lived up to the heroic expectations.

Ward’s store system was grouped along similar lines to that of Sears, with “A”, “B” and “C” designations. In 1935, according to the Fortune article, Wards had seventeen “A” stores, large units in major population centers. The “B” stores were by far the largest group, with 453 units, medium sized stores in towns ranging in population from 5,000 to 75,000, with an average of 20,000. The “C” stores, only 19 units at the time, were smaller stores that carried a lineup limited to tires and auto accessories.

In 1939, Montgomery Ward made an unlikely yet enduring contribution to America’s pop culture heritage. A Ward advertising copywriter named Robert L. May was assigned to put together a giveaway booklet for the stores to hand out as a Christmas promotion. He came up with a humorous twist on Clement Clark Moore’s “The Night Before Christmas”, only this time a ninth reindeer was added to lead the pack – Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer. The little story was an instant hit. Years later, Wards transferred the rights to the story to May, whose brother-in-law Johnny Marks soon wrote the famous song based on it, with Gene Autry recording the resulting multimillion-selling hit.

In the Wards executive suite, high drama was becoming the order of the day. Ward’s chairman, Sewell Avery wielded an increasingly autocratic leadership style, and was beginning to drive away key Wards management talent. In 1937, Walter Hoving left to take the presidency of Lord & Taylor. Two years later, Frank Folsom quit to become the CEO of Goldblatts, a Chicago-based department store chain. A frustrated Raymond Fogler, by then president of Wards, resigned a few months afterward with no new job in hand. Fogler would soon rejoin his alma mater W. T. Grant, where he would enjoy a long, successful run through the forties, fifties and sixties as Grants’ president, then as chairman of the board. It was very destructive pattern for Wards, as Avery proceeded to run the company as a virtual one-man show, driving away scores of talented managers over the ensuing years, leaving the billion-dollar company with virtually no middle-management ranks. The company was effectively becoming a training ground for managers for its competition.

While these developments were mainly discussed only within retail executive and Wall Street circles, there was a public side to Avery’s exploits. Highly distrustful of the government and deeply disdainful of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, Avery made the headlines with increasing frequency in the early and mid-1940’s. (Oddly enough, as the Fortune article points out, Roosevelt’s polices did much to help farm family income, a factor which had to have played a part in Ward’s sales increases with that all-important demographic.) Avery’s first clash with the Roosevelt administration was over the National Recovery Act (NRA), a New Deal agency created to regulate industrial competition. Avery withheld the $30,000 charge assessed by the NRA to Wards, and as a result was one of the very few companies to be denied the right to display the famous eagle logo, a symbol that could be seen literally anywhere you turned in 1933. The NRA was ultimately declared unconstitutional, to Avery’s delight.

Throughout World War II, Avery battled constantly with the War Labor Board, refusing to sign a 1942 labor contract that he felt would force Wards to become a closed shop (mandatory union membership). Ultimately, F.D.R. issued an order forcing Avery (and Wards) to sign the contract, which he begrudgingly did. Two years later, things came to a head again, when the government demanded an extension of the agreement pending an election. Avery, feeling that the contract “violated employees’ rights”, refused to sign off on the extension. Roosevelt, “As commander-in-chief in time of war”, warned Avery that the work stoppage was delaying the delivery of farm implements and other goods necessary for the war effort, threatening “further action” if Wards did not comply. Avery refused to obey the president’s order, and on April 26, 1944, “three olive-drab Army trucks rolled up to Montgomery Ward’s main entrance”, as related in a Time Magazine article entitled “Seizure!”, which described the spectacle in detail the following week:

“Out jumped a 44-man unit of battle-helmeted Military Police under command of Lieut. Ludwig Pincura. Bayonets glinted in the afternoon sun. Followed by four enlisted men, Lieut. Pincura began his bloodless invasion. On the eighth floor the five pairs of Army brogans clattered across the green-and-white-squared linoleum, then moved noiselessly through the deep-carpeted executive offices.

Sewell Avery was not surprised to see them. He smiled. After a moment's embarrassed silence, Lieut. Pincura said: "Under authority vested in me by the President of the United States I am taking over this plant."

Asked Sewell Avery: "Does that mean I have to leave?"

"Yes," said the commander of the Army of Occupation."

And so it was. Montgomery Ward was now under the control of the U.S. Army, and 69-year old Sewell Avery, who refused to comply every inch of the way, was bodily removed from his office by two servicemen, as immortalized in this famous photo. The “occupation”, which Time surmised was on questionable legal ground, lasted four days, and all the while president Roosevelt was on vacation in Warm Springs, Georgia. Eventually, the whole case was scrapped.

Things would get worse (although not necessarily this crazy) for Wards before they would get better.

The photos above, from Chain Store Age, depict Montgomery Ward stores opened between approximately 1935 and 1940. Top to bottom, they are: (1) Hagerstown, Maryland, (2) Kansas City, Kansas, (3) Enid, Oklahoma, (4) Detroit, Michigan – Gratiot Avenue, (5) La Grange, Illinois, (6) Dearborn, Michigan, (shown here in late 2006 and torn down only last year *sigh*) (7) Glens Falls, New York, (8) Trenton, New Jersey and (9) Rome, Georgia.

For years I drove by the La Grange store without the slightest clue as to the building’s Wards heritage. It is now home to an Italian restaurant called Bella Bacino’s. If anyone has an update on the fate of any of the other stores, please let us know!

Below is a very highly modified Georgian from the same era, a West Palm Beach, Florida unit. King George must have had a winter place there.

Thanks to Nessa for sending along links to some great photos she has taken of the following Georgian-style Wards buildings - Cumberland, Maryland, Morgantown, West Virginia and Cambridge, Ohio. Check out her Flickr page to see many other photos with a great sense of history and fun!

A Family Affair at Kroger

As previously mentioned here, one of the most notable grocery industry trends of the 1960’s was the emergence of the supermarket/discount store combination. Usually the supermarket and discount store were separated by a wall and had their own checkstands, adjoining each other only via a common lobby area at the front. In some cases, the layout was open and both grocery and non-foods shared a common checkout area, much the way Wal-Mart Supercenters (on a comparatively gigantic scale) are configured today.

Many of the major chains (with the exception of A&P, a resolute holdout) tried their hand at this – Grand Union (the pioneer – they doubled the size of their Keansburg, NJ supermarket in 1956 to add a non-foods department and soon named the concept Grand-Way), Jewel (with their 1961 acquisition of Boston-based Turn-Style), Food Fair (they bought out J.M Fields in 1961), Stop and Shop (acquired Bradlees in 1961),Safeway (launched Super-S in 1962), Fazio’s (opened their first combination store in Akron in 1967) Red Owl (a Minnesota-based chain who opened their first combo in 1965), Lucky Stores (opened their first “Lucky Discount Center” way back in 1959) and others I’ve undoubtedly missed. Jewel/Turn-Style and Fazio’s were among those who decided to dub their combination units “Family Centers”.

In 1965, Kroger decided to try the idea as well, and the first Kroger Family Centers were opened in 1966. By the end of the following year, the company had seven Family Centers, located in Texas, Louisiana, Arkansas and Kansas. The company also opened a few Thriftown stores, a general merchandise-only concept (with footprints a bit larger than the Family Centers) that to my knowledge never grew past five stores.

In addition to food, the Family Centers carried the normal discount store mix. There was clothing, jewelry, housewares, sporting goods, auto accessories, toys, and that welcome oasis in the bargain-hunting Sahara, a snack bar.

The stores featured common checkout areas and ranged in size from 50,000 to 70,000 square feet, much larger than the standard Kroger footprint of the time. In fact, in the early and mid-60’s Kroger tended to adopt a contrarian attitude regarding store size, actually shrinking their standard supermarket footprints for a time in the interest of efficiency. Over time, competition and the sheer increase in the number of new grocery products available forced them to upsize the stores. Of course, Kroger would later jump in with both feet with the much larger Superstores of the early seventies.

One of the more interesting aspects of the Family Centers, to me, was their construction. The typical Kroger supermarkets of the era were standard brick and glass affairs, often distinguished by an interestingly shaped pylon. The Family Centers were of concrete-wall construction, with aggregate facing on the concrete panels, a long concrete canopy over the entrances, supported by tapered columns, and far less window surface than most stores of the era. The Family Centers had a sturdy, handsome appearance, short on frills.

By 1969, there were 24 Family Centers, with 18 announced for the following year and a goal of 100 units by 1975, which unfortunately was never reached. Most of these were in the Mid-South (Arkansas, Mississippi and Louisiana) and in Texas. Units in the Houston area went under the name of Henke’s Family Center (short for Henke and Pillot). The store openings, particularly in the 60’s, were a big production, complete with an appearance by a replica of Barney Kroger’s 1883 horse-driven delivery wagon. Since many of the Family Centers went into cities that didn’t previously have Kroger stores, they were enthusiastically received.

For their groceries, that is. By 1972 it had become obvious that carrying such a broad range of general merchandise was not Kroger’s forte, and the decision was made to close the Family Centers, writing off the operation to the tune of $5 million. The "Family Center" name was retained on some Texas and Louisiana stores, although most of their general merchandise was broomed.

Far more exciting things were now happening at Kroger – the Superstore program was underway. “The family” would have new, compelling reasons to shop there.

The exterior photo above is from 1968, the three interior views below from the following year.