Lawson's

Roll on, Big O. Get that juice up to Lawson's in 40 hours.
Well, the oranges ripen in the Florida sun. Sweet on the tree they stay.
Then they pick 'em and they squeeze 'em just as quick as you please.
And the Big O leaves the same day.
Roll on, Big O. Get that juice up to Lawson's in 40 hours.
Well, one man sleeps while the other man drives on the nonstop Lawson's run.
And the cold, cold juice* in that tank truck caboose stays as fresh as the Florida sun.
Roll on, Big O. Get that juice up to Lawson's in 40 hours.

If you grew up in Ohio as I did, that commercial song is as indelibly etched on your brain as "I'd like to teach the world to sing . . ." and "Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh, what a relief it is." The sky-blue, shield-shaped logo with white wild-west thick serif lettering was an integral feature of the Ohio landscape. To call Lawson's a convenience store like 7-Eleven or White Hen is an injustice. It served more as a neighborhood market for staples. Back then many families still had milk and bread delivered; everyone else went to Lawson's.

Our Lawson's was on a single commercial-zoned block directly across from my elementary school, surrounded by houses. On this minuscule strip, there was a gas station, a pharmacy, and at varying times during my childhood, a record store, a barbershop, a shoe repair and a soda fountain.

Every evening after dinner, my father would walk the four blocks to Lawson's, carrying empty bottles to return, smoking a cheap cigar, either alone or with one of us in tow. He would buy the evening Akron Beacon Journal, a half gallon of milk, a loaf of bread and occasionally, a bag of Salem potato chips or a half gallon of chocolate milk.

All the Lawson's were identical. Two long narrow aisles flanked by shelves led to a low counter. Behind the lone cashier were glass-fronted, wood-framed refrigerators with milk and juice. In summer, we rode our bikes there to buy nickel Popsicles from the low freezer at the entrance. For 15 or 20 cents, there were other novelties, Fudgesicles, Creamsicles, ice cream sandwiches.

At some point, around the time I was in high school and had long since lost interest in Popsicles, all the Lawson's stores quietly disappeared. I never gave them a second thought, until, after a decade of living in Chicago, I visited Japan.

If you are a westerner on a first visit to Japan or have seen Sophia Coppola's brilliant film, Lost in Translation, you know that being there can be a completely disconcerting experience. In 1993, at the height of Japan's economic bubble, the dollar was worth bupkes to the yen. In a country of 125 million people, I was the single non-Japanese-speaking western tourist. It was both thrilling and baffling. For example, experienced world traveler that I am, I requested an address list of ATM machines from my U.S. bank. However, as I found out--JAPANESE STREETS HAVE NO NAMES. The locals get around by identifying locations by landmarks or asking someone for directions. I had to just wander around endlessly in what I hoped were smaller concentric circles until I stumbled onto my destination. By the way, Japanese ATM's are INSIDE buildings, usually on upper floors.

But, on almost every single corner in Japan, there is a Lawson's. It was as if there was a small wrinkle in the time/space continuum. All the stores had slipped through the portal from 1960s Ohio to appear here decades later in Japan. Roll on, Big O. It was exactly as the Lawson's stores I remembered. Here were the same two aisles, the candy display, the bread and pastries on the middle island. I looked at the fridge. The packaging was exactly the same, save for the hiragana lettering. Blue for whole milk, half blue and half gold for 2%, gold for skim, green for buttermilk. I couldn't find the Imperial Palace with a map and guide book, but I could tell small curd cottage cheese from large curd at 15 paces.

I met up with some Japanese acquaintances later in a trip. The strange comfort/thrill of seeing six different Lawson's every day still hadn't worn off. I told them how Lawson's was originally an Ohio dairy, before being a chain of stores. They listened politely. "Lawson's is Japanese," they insisted. There was no point in arguing.

I have eaten at Dunkin' Donuts in Buenos Aires, at McDonalds in Moscow. If there is a KFC at the magnetic north pole, I would not be surprised. But for me, Lawson's so strongly evoked a certain era; the 60s and 70s of my childhood and a specific geographic location; northeastern Ohio, that my entire time in Japan felt like I had traveled through the looking glass. Not so for the Japanese. Lawson's has been part of their landscape since the late 70s. It doesn't have any corporate heritage beyond that. In the 21st century, Lawson's exists everywhere in Japan, and nowhere else. Lawson's IS Japanese.

When I got home, I showed this photo to several friends. Like me, they are now in their 40s, Chicago transplants from Cleveland, Akron, Kent, Barberton. The response was exactly the same each time. Eyes widen. "Roll on, Big O," they sang. "Get that juice up to Lawson's in 40 hours."

*Thanks, Mark, for correcting my lyrics.

Kyoto 1993

Short corporate history of Lawson Dairy Stores
Lawson history (thanks, Phil!)