A Slice of O.C. History? Comin’ Up
It was a typical Saturday morning at Watson Drugs and Soda Fountain, which has been serving malts, prescriptions and sundries in Old Towne Orange since 1899.
Orange High School’s class of 1943 was having its monthly reunion, and the old friends were remembering the night that Betty Lemberg was prom queen.
“You know, Betty, you don’t look any different,” said Carroll Saez, politely overlooking Betty’s bluish-gray hair and the cane she uses to help her get around. “You are still just as pretty.”
“You really do look the same,” agreed David Hart, a retired newspaper reporter and real estate agent whose mother worked at Watson’s when it opened the city’s first telephone switchboard. “It’s like time hasn’t passed.”
Indeed, if there is one thing patrons seek at Watson’s even more than the juicy pork chops or cold chocolate malts, it’s a feeling that time has stood still. And Watson’s delivers.
The classmates, all turning 80 this year, get their table reserved one Saturday each month at 8 a.m. They don’t need to call. Owner Scott Parker and his son Steve know they are coming.
“We have the mayor, the police chief, the alumni from the high school and we have families who have walked over here for generations. When they come in, Watson’s is a part of them,” Steve Parker said.
These days, nostalgia for places like Watson’s has led to plenty of chain imitations furnished with the kind of red Naugahyde stools and booths that have been fixtures at Watson’s since 1949.
Sure, these other places can serve up good-old-fashioned burgers and fries. But Scott Parker says they can’t replicate the sense of community that Watson’s has.
He and his regulars say that no matter what people order -- whether it’s the T-bone or the breakfast burrito, an ice cream soda or banana split -- they taste a piece of Orange’s past. Some customers even wait for specific tables at Watson’s, ones where relatives sat decades ago.
While the class of ’43 ate breakfast, Kathie Ferkin spoke to Charles “Andy” Andresen, who was her band teacher. Never mind that Ferkin left the band at Orange High School in 1964 and that she lives some 75 miles away in Thousand Oaks. They and their spouses meet regularly at Watson’s.
“We wouldn’t meet anywhere else. Watson’s is my nirvana,” Ferkin said. “It reminds me of my great time growing up in Orange.”
Watson’s is just east of what outsiders call the city’s traffic circle; locals call it the plaza. Half the store is full of tables, booths and the counter where customers can order a malt just as George W. Bush did on the campaign trail in 2000. Scott Parker, a pharmacist, runs a drugstore in the other half, selling items such as lotions and aspirin. Watson’s also delivers prescriptions to about 50 homes a day, charging $1 for the service.
After Kellar Watson Jr., son of the founder, sold the store in 1965, it went through a succession of owners. The business struggled through the 1970s in a downtown that was losing customers to suburban malls.
Scott Parker, a native of Salt Lake City who was unhappy working at a nearby Sav-on drugstore, became a pharmacist at Watson’s, then bought half the business. In 1986, he became its sole owner.
The plaza has become a magnet for hunters of antiques, and business is good.
Over the years, Scott Parker kept thinking about changing the place. He imagined knocking the soda fountain out to sell more cosmetics. But he never had enough money to do the project. Instead, Steve Parker helped his father decorate the place with license plates and antique posters. Customers brought in stuff to hang.
A jukebox still plays 45 rpm records. Workers gift wrap lotions and costume jewelry while turkeys and soups slowly cook in the kitchen.
Two hours after the class of ’43 left, Orange Mayor Mark A. Murphy came in for his regular Saturday meal.
It was 11 a.m. and Murphy was enjoying a chili burger. He usually varies between the French dip, the waffles and the chili burger. Sometimes, he pops in during a break in City Council meetings.
Among the men at his table were a former county supervisor, a former City Council member and a former city planning commissioner.
“This is a place that is just like the city,” Murphy said. “It honors its history and continues to thrive. Heads of state and grandmas and old schoolmates eat here. To everyone, it feels like home.”