J.J. Newberry’s was a classic five-and-dime if you want my two cents.

And you’ll never believe all the stuff you could get for a dollar.

Flashback: Dec. 22, 1991

My favorite store closes its doors. Newberry’s bites the dust. I worked at the Portsmouth Herald at the time and filed the nostalgic report you will find below.

I loved the place because it was a throwback (c. 1927) where you could get all kinds of crazy stuff for peanuts. Real people. Main Street USA. Good old Newberry’s.

Flash forward: Dec. 22, 2016

Just a quick quarter-century in Portsmouth’s storied history. The J.J. Newberry’s building is reborn. Inside — among many other cool spaces — you’ll find global headquarters for Vital, which seems to be some sort of high-energy imagination laboratory.

I work here now crafting messages and ideas. Snapped this photo with my phone from atop the parking garage (c. 1985). Good old Newberry’s.

Tribute to Newberry’s,

a downtown institution

(Editor’s Note: This item appeared in the Portsmouth (N.H.) Herald on Sunday, Dec. 22, 1991.)

This has been a year mark by hard times and bad news. But to me — and to many Seacoast residents from all walks of life — one of the saddest stories of 1991 is that J.J. Newberry’s will no longer grace the downtown Portsmouth streetscape.

Established in 1927, two years before the Great Depression, Newberry’s, Portsmouth residents learned Friday, has officially become another victim of this not-so-great (OK, lousy) recession.

And though you might think some of the merchandise has been there since the beginning, Newberry’s regulars like myself know this is a place where the atmosphere and certain absurdly low prices are also reminiscent of an earlier time.

Consider the things you can purchase for one American dollar ($1) at Newberry’s:

A live calico fish, a laundry basket, three toothbrushes, two styptic pencils, three bars of soap, 10 combs, a magnifying glass, 20 plastic cups, three plastic roses, 70 envelopes, two fake-nose-and-glasses, a wooden postcard depicting a lobster, or earrings for your sweetheart.

But wait there’s more:

Three 14 oz. cans of fast-action Bab-O cleanser, eight refrigerator magnets, 100 flexible straws, 50 balloons, 15 kitchen trash bags, 10 clothing hangers, two Christmas mugs, a cheap watch, a set of dice, two decks of playing cards, one pair of Masterbilt latex gloves, a state of New Hampshire back scratcher, or an 8 oz. jar of generic petroleum jelly.

And for dinner how about:

Eight 3 oz. cans of Hormel potted meat, some microwave popcorn, three packets of Sloppy Joe seasoning mix, 12 candy canes for dessert, and a bottle of 100 non-aspirin pain reliever tablets. Sardines are 69 cents at Newberry’s, which has been selling Crackerjack since the days of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

You can have breakfast or lunch at the counter in the $1.11 to $2.69 range.

Among items priced higher than one dollar:

Albino hamsters, a wheelchair, the Holy Bible on tape, Kellogg’s cornflakes, telephones, clothes, oriental style rugs, duplicate keys, a Chia Pet, Play-Doh and parakeets. I personally communicated with friends and business associates on a $5.99 Newberry’s telephone for a period of several years.

At Newberry’s, they put your purchases into a distinctive brown plastic bag and staple it closed through the receipt.

Store manager George Taylor said Newberry’s has always been “a family store.” Some of the store’s most loyal customers are senior citizens who live in the Feaster or Margeson apartments. For them it has been a meeting place, a favorite activity to look forward to.

Andy Mantis, who sells Down East Donuts near the Newberry’s lunch counter, said, “some of the customers call this place an institution.”

“I had one woman — old lady — she had tears in her eyes, she said, ‘Where am I going to go?’”

Ruth Muzzey, who has worked at Newberry’s for four years, said Saturday, “I think everybody that lives in Portsmouth has been here at one time or another.”

But if, through some inexplicable quirk of fate, you’ve never been to Newberry’s, I strongly urge you to go there very soon, before it’s too late.

Cheers! here’s my Christmas page       See additional nostalgia, humor and more at johnbreneman.com