Everything under one roof
Story by Leigh Pritchett
Photos by Wallace Bromberg Jr.
Debbie Crump recounted some of the goings-on at Richey’s Grocery and then just had to chuckle.
“There’s a story every day. We could write a book, and it would be a best-seller,” said Crump, who with her husband, Jimmy, owns Richey’s Grocery.
According to her, Richey’s Grocery is “just a small-town grocery store.”
But a few hours spent observing activity and listening to conversation there reveals it to be plenty more than that.
The store is a quick stop, a fuel stop, a grocery store, a coffee shop, a meat market, a general store, a think tank, a curb market, a community meeting place, a springtime plant nursery, a social network and the fiscal accountability watchdog headquarters for all levels of government.
In addition, it is the first call for help in various life situations, such as rounding up wayward cattle or repairing a leaky roof.
As to what one might encounter at Richey’s Grocery, customer Kim Thweatt of Cropwell remarked, “There’s no telling.”
The store, located between the Pell City limit and the Shelby County line on U.S. 231 South, enjoys proximity to several lakeside communities, as well as Cropwell, New London and Mount Pisgah. Few are the hours that it is closed, even in snow. The store opens each morning at 5 a.m., closing at 9 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and at 10 p.m. Friday and Saturday.
It is a general store with a one-stop shopping concept and an old-fashioned atmosphere. Customers can find kindling, firewood, regular gasoline, non-ethanol gasoline, propane, kerosene, live bait, fishing tackle, grocery items, produce (some of it from local sources), automotive and pet supplies, health and beauty aids, meat cut fresh daily, poultry, fish and seafood, marinades, rubs, spices, candy, a quick snack or drink and a newspaper.
Then, there is the host of specialty items, such as muscadine hot sauce, rhubarb preserves, squash relish, moonshine jelly (which, by the way, does not have alcohol listed as an ingredient), Priester’s pecan pies, locally made cheese straws and fudge, hoop cheese (both red and black rind), local honey and Chilton County peaches, when in season.
Plus, the store carries many Amish products, for example, chow-chow, peach salsa, candied jalapenos, pickled mushrooms, Christmas jam, pickled baby beets, red sweet pepper relish and tomato basil noodles.
Anyone wanting another of Richey’s unique items – pickled quail eggs – has to be swift about it because those have a way of vanishing, said cashier Debbie Thompson.
“It’s a good place to stop by because you never know what you’ll find,” said Greg Crump, who co-manages his mother’s store with his sister, Jamie McLean.
Greg Crump mused that Richey’s sits right between the old and the new: Old U.S. 231 runs at the back of the store, while the newer U.S. 231 spans the front.
In a way, that does depict the store. It is a business functioning in modern day on principles from yesteryear.
Richey’s Grocery is a place where American flags fly prominently and six-year employee Wil Holmes describes as “home.” It is where Lisa Hardy, one of 11 employees, has chosen to work for two decades. The prices of items are keyed by hand into the cash register, and customers are called by name.
That latter was a practice Debbie Crump’s father, Donald Richey (now deceased), used from the day he opened the store in 1967 and instilled in his daughter.
“That was Pawpaw’s big thing, to call everybody by name,” said McLean.
Establishing relationships and giving good customer service are two other practices that Debbie Crump strives to uphold.
“We try to be friendly to everybody,” said Greg Crump.
Debbie Crump noted that customers are loyal if they are treated properly. “You treat them right, they’re going to treat you right.”
Tymarcus Simmons of the Surfside area said he appreciates that Richey’s treats customers with kindness and dignity. He said that is a rare quality to find these days. The father of three – Tamichial, Jacoby and Tymarcus Jr. – said Debbie Crump is known for the way she relates to and treats people.
In the years after opening the store, Richey and his wife, Sally, also established two nearby businesses. Richey’s Barbeque, right next door, is now run by Debbie Crump’s sister, Martha Price. Across a street, in a building currently occupied by Bullet’s Mini Storage, the Richeys operated Surfside Restaurant about 15 years.
Since 1967, the family has run Richey’s Grocery, with the exception of 10 years that it was under lease, explained Greg Crump. Debbie Crump took over the store at the end of the lease.
That was 20 years ago this past October, said McLean.
When Debbie Crump assumed the business, her dad urged her never to sell to an outside entity. As a result, buyout offers – like the recent one from someone in Atlanta – get turned down flat.
“There’s no way,” Debbie Crump said.
Crump would not dream of parting with the store, where her mother Sally Richey comes to visit each afternoon.
“She loves this place,” Crump said.
Moreover, Crump’s grandchildren — McLean’s sons, Luke and Colt, and Greg Crump’s daughters, Bailey and Allie – already feel like they are part of the business.
McLean said she and her brother will run it until they are just too feeble.
One of the major draws of the store is its meat market. Greg Crump oversees it, selecting and cutting the meat himself.
“We buy nothing other than the best grade you can get,” Debbie Crump said.
Ribeye, sirloin, New York strip, ribs, Boston butt, ground chuck, pork chops and chicken are among the cuts available. “It’s hand-cut and fresh,” said Greg Crump. “Nothing sits around.”
The meat market definitely appeals to Paul Graves of Pell City. “I get all my steaks there. They’ve got filet mignon.”
Some people even drive from other areas to purchase meat at Richey’s, said McLean.
Meat sales, Debbie Crump said, constitute probably 50-60 percent of the store’s business. Richey’s also fills bulk orders for large gatherings, as many as 200 or 300 steaks at a time.
All in a day’s work
On a recent Saturday morning, the store was teeming with activity long before 7:45 a.m.
The aroma of boiled peanuts in their warmer filled the air. Cindy’s cinnamon rolls from the Galleria tempted anyone who approached the checkout counter.
Martha Price busily gathered what she needed for that day’s barbecue business, as a nearly steady stream of customers came and went. At times, there was scarcely a place to park.
Bobby Jones and Harold Hoyle were already well settled in their daily routine at Richey’s.
These two regulars arrive before the store opens. Each morning, one unlocks the bathrooms and the coolers out front, while the other brews the first pot of coffee for the day.
Then, the duo takes a perch behind the counter to “shoot the breeze” and pick at customers.
One regular customer after another — many holding coffee cups from home — came for some joe and a dose of “intellectual stimulation,” as Randy Bearden of Shelby County put it.
Though the morning was chilly and overcast, some took a seat anyway on the back porch, where a sign proclaims, “What happens on the porch, stays on the porch.”
Considering the amount of activity that transpires there each and every day, that vow of secrecy covers a lot.
That famous back porch is yet another attraction at the store.
“When it’s warm enough, (there are) six or eight guys on the porch in the morning,” said Pell City Councilman Terry Templin.
Sitting in the most comfy of the rockers, Templin casually explained to a newcomer that there is an “early” group and a “late” group on the porch. Most of the time, he is part of the early group, but likes to stay for the late one, too.
“We’ve been doing this for 15 to 20 years,” Templin continued. “We solve all kinds of problems, local, federal. …”
Pointing at Templin, Ren Wheeler of Cropwell gave his reason for being part of the porch patrol. “I have to bend his ear every now and then. I like to find out where he’s wasting my tax money.”
Soon, Rusty Hunter of Cropwell joined the group, offering lighthearted observations.
After, Greg Crump settled into another rocker, Jones and Hoyle migrated to the porch from behind the checkout counter.
The group’s discussions ranged from humorous recollections, the golf course and the local geese population to progress reports on porch sitters who were sick or had surgery.
The men would wave at passersby and yell comments at people exiting their vehicles.
Crump noted that the porch has a strange effect on some people: It causes them to alter their stories. “If you catch a 4-pound bass, when you step on the porch, it’s 8 pounds.”
Generally, the porch banter is jovial in nature. Nonetheless, the discussions sometimes give Templin valuable insight. Through some of them, he is able to know what the citizenry thinks about various issues, which he said helps him as a councilman.
It was not long before McLean came onto the veranda with her cell phone in hand. One of the regulars, she announced, had texted her to say he could not make it that day; he was hauling cows in Alexandria.
This morning like most mornings, the porch was male dominated. Yet on warm evenings, the porch belongs to the female folk, said Debbie Crump.
It is also a family gathering place for the Crumps and McLeans. “This is where we hold birthday parties,” said McLean. “This is where we live.”
