Meri's and Memories
Richland Mall was a real treasure for those of us growing up in Forest Acres in the 60s and 70s. More than just a local shopping destination, it represented all sorts of life passages.
For anyone who didn't grow up in the area, the Richland Fashion Mall of today bears no resemblance to the Richland Mall of my growing up years. The original design of Richland Mall somewhat mirrored today's "town center" concept that is popping up as enclosed malls are being shuttered in favor of these more walkable customer-friendly shopping destinations.
Woolworth's, Mr. Popper's Popcorn, Meri's Records, Whites, Sylvan's Jewelry, Winn Dixie, the S&S Cafeteria and Baskin Robbins are a few of the iconic stores I remember.
I got to thinking about the original Richland Mall experience while doing some research for my most recent article in Columbia Metropolitan Magazine about the resurgence of vinyl records. I couldn't write about the history of vinyl records in Columbia without including the magic of Meri's Records at Richland Mall.
The store was located in a corner storefront so it was easy to peer in through the glass windows and marvel at the vast collection of records. It was a small space compared to the other stores in the mall, but every inch of it represented songs of the era along with oldies, classical music and who knows what else that I never even discovered.
At that point in our tween/teen lives, my friends and I ached to be cool. We enviously tried to imitate older siblings' wardrobes, language and music habits. We clamored to grow up. Buying records and listening to the music of the day gave us a little sip of that grown up nectar.
An early rite of passage of our tween/teen years was gaining permission to ride our bikes to Richland Mall. That happened sometime around the seventh grade as I can best remember. My neighborhood was less than a mile from the mall but we had to cross Beltline Boulevard, a busy four lane road, to get there. This was before crossing lights and safe sidewalks, so being allowed to make this journey on our own was a real taste of freedom for me and my friends.
And Meri's … well Meri's was the ultimate in cool places to go at the mall. And as far as we knew, it was the only place in town to buy records.
I can vividly remember us going in the store dressed in bell bottoms and cool shirts with puffy pirate sleeves holding tight to the beloved Meri's gift certificate that allowed us to actually choose a record instead of just browse the bins. The best birthday gifts in that era were a 45 or a gift certificate from Meri's. Seeing that Meri's logo on the slim folder the record came wrapped in or the envelope that held the gift certificate gave us a peek at that illusive "cool."
Little did we know at that point that Bobby Sherman and John Denver wouldn't even register on our older siblings' cool meter when they were buying the Beetles and Rolling Stones. Being able to buy the singles - the 45s, as they were known then - for a dollar made music purchases possible for us. As tweens, our sources of spending money was allowance, birthday money or maybe a little babysitting cash. For a dollar, we could buy our way to a little bit of cool.
Owning a record player and having a way to buy records was for them was a very grown-up thing. For the most part, we listened to these records on our plastic "close and play’ record players. The lucky ones of us had an older sibling who owned a real stereo with a long spindle that stacked multiple records to be dropped one by one onto the turntable.
I still have two "Peaches" crates of these records in my attic. Based on what I learned from the record dealers I interviewed for this article, I've taken pretty good care of the albums over the years so they would probably play OK if I had a turntable. There are even a couple 45s still in the bin. The Lion Sleeps Tonight and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds are two that take me straight back to those days of bell bottoms and pirate shirts.
When starting the research for the article, I turned to the Facebook group called "you must be from Columbia if…" to ask about the family who owned Meri's. Within minutes, the post was full of happy memories about Meri's and Richland Mall. To my delight, I quickly discovered that I know the son and daughter-in-law of "Miss Meri," who owned the store.
I learned that Richard Gergel's family owned Meri's for many years after spending decades in the toy store business. His mother was "Miss Meri." Richard and his wife, Belinda, moved to Charleston from Columbia several years ago when Richard became a federal judge.
My long conversation with him for the magazine interview yielded some great history about this beloved landmark that brought back rushes of tween/teen memories. Plus, Belinda sent me some priceless photographs of the store that confirmed my memories of its details were fairly accurate.
Read the article in the October issue of Columbia Metropolitan and get a bigger dose of Meri's along with some interesting history and perspective on today's growing resurgence of vinyl records.
For anyone who didn't grow up in the area, the Richland Fashion Mall of today bears no resemblance to the Richland Mall of my growing up years. The original design of Richland Mall somewhat mirrored today's "town center" concept that is popping up as enclosed malls are being shuttered in favor of these more walkable customer-friendly shopping destinations.
Woolworth's, Mr. Popper's Popcorn, Meri's Records, Whites, Sylvan's Jewelry, Winn Dixie, the S&S Cafeteria and Baskin Robbins are a few of the iconic stores I remember.
I got to thinking about the original Richland Mall experience while doing some research for my most recent article in Columbia Metropolitan Magazine about the resurgence of vinyl records. I couldn't write about the history of vinyl records in Columbia without including the magic of Meri's Records at Richland Mall.
At that point in our tween/teen lives, my friends and I ached to be cool. We enviously tried to imitate older siblings' wardrobes, language and music habits. We clamored to grow up. Buying records and listening to the music of the day gave us a little sip of that grown up nectar.
An early rite of passage of our tween/teen years was gaining permission to ride our bikes to Richland Mall. That happened sometime around the seventh grade as I can best remember. My neighborhood was less than a mile from the mall but we had to cross Beltline Boulevard, a busy four lane road, to get there. This was before crossing lights and safe sidewalks, so being allowed to make this journey on our own was a real taste of freedom for me and my friends.
And Meri's … well Meri's was the ultimate in cool places to go at the mall. And as far as we knew, it was the only place in town to buy records.
I can vividly remember us going in the store dressed in bell bottoms and cool shirts with puffy pirate sleeves holding tight to the beloved Meri's gift certificate that allowed us to actually choose a record instead of just browse the bins. The best birthday gifts in that era were a 45 or a gift certificate from Meri's. Seeing that Meri's logo on the slim folder the record came wrapped in or the envelope that held the gift certificate gave us a peek at that illusive "cool."
Little did we know at that point that Bobby Sherman and John Denver wouldn't even register on our older siblings' cool meter when they were buying the Beetles and Rolling Stones. Being able to buy the singles - the 45s, as they were known then - for a dollar made music purchases possible for us. As tweens, our sources of spending money was allowance, birthday money or maybe a little babysitting cash. For a dollar, we could buy our way to a little bit of cool.
Owning a record player and having a way to buy records was for them was a very grown-up thing. For the most part, we listened to these records on our plastic "close and play’ record players. The lucky ones of us had an older sibling who owned a real stereo with a long spindle that stacked multiple records to be dropped one by one onto the turntable.
I still have two "Peaches" crates of these records in my attic. Based on what I learned from the record dealers I interviewed for this article, I've taken pretty good care of the albums over the years so they would probably play OK if I had a turntable. There are even a couple 45s still in the bin. The Lion Sleeps Tonight and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds are two that take me straight back to those days of bell bottoms and pirate shirts.
When starting the research for the article, I turned to the Facebook group called "you must be from Columbia if…" to ask about the family who owned Meri's. Within minutes, the post was full of happy memories about Meri's and Richland Mall. To my delight, I quickly discovered that I know the son and daughter-in-law of "Miss Meri," who owned the store.
I learned that Richard Gergel's family owned Meri's for many years after spending decades in the toy store business. His mother was "Miss Meri." Richard and his wife, Belinda, moved to Charleston from Columbia several years ago when Richard became a federal judge.
My long conversation with him for the magazine interview yielded some great history about this beloved landmark that brought back rushes of tween/teen memories. Plus, Belinda sent me some priceless photographs of the store that confirmed my memories of its details were fairly accurate.
Read the article in the October issue of Columbia Metropolitan and get a bigger dose of Meri's along with some interesting history and perspective on today's growing resurgence of vinyl records.
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