The Mystery of Winn Dixie

Somewhere around 1979, a new shop opened its doors on London Road. It occupied the space recently vacated by Rockbottom (who moved a door down; you could still hear the sounds of bedroom guitarists mangling their way through Van Halen’s Eruption through the walls) and although it kept the trademark orange tiles of the block, it had a bold and shiny name and logo: Winn Dixie. It looked big, brash, and distinctly American.

The reality didn’t quite live up to the promise. Any dreams of a Croydon version of Macy's were instantly dashed by the sight of tables groaning with pastel bath salts and china hearts stuffed with pot-pourri. Further in though, you would find shelves of Ronco products which, despite being “Only available on TV!” were there, large as life, available for purchase with nary a television set in sight.

This, then, was Winn Dixie’s USP: the opportunity to buy products that were only normally available through magazine and television offers. That, and a healthy smattering of cheap tat. That’s not to say it was a waste of time, though. Who hadn’t wanted to see for themselves the Ronco glass froster or the device that scrambled eggs inside their shells (and if anyone can come up with a valid reason for why such a thing needed to exist, I would love to hear it).

And there were some real gems too. Nearer to Christmas a range of toys started to appear, the most memorable of  which was the Big Ear – a cross between a blue and red plastic rifle with a parabolic antenna on one end and a cheapo pair of Walkman headphones at the other. This miraculous device promised (at least on the adverts) the ability to eavesdrop on conversations a mile away with crystal clarity. I can’t vouch for whether or not it actually worked but even the mere existence of this toy has been hotly debated on the TV Cream website, amongst others.

Sadly, the combination of closeout goods, uneven floors and nicotine silhouettes of Gibson Les Pauls on the wall did not a sustainable business model make, and it closed down after about a year. And there the story would have ended.

Except…

Except that a few years ago, I had cause to visit Miami. One of the first things that I saw was a Winn Dixie, large as life, just sitting there in a retail park. It transpires that this is a huge chain, popular through the Southern USA, with its origins in Jacksonville many years ago. How had it got to Croydon?

I emailed Winn Dixie’s PR department, asking if they had any records of their incursion into UK territory. The response was a form letter with a two-line history of the firm and an assertion that they had never opened a branch in the UK.

This seemed like a mystery unlikely to be solved – until I eventually spoke to someone who had actually worked there. "I worked at that Winn Dixie in Croydon in the summer of 1985. It was NOT affiliated with the chain from the United States. I can't remember the name of my boss, but his brother owned the video store chain called Showtime Video (he had video stores all over South London and he had one in Norbury called Cinemax). "The brother who owned the video stores was named Roger. The name of the Winn Dixie store and the Showtime Video stores were inspired from stores of the same name in the States. Roger used to go over to the States a lot and brought back business ideas and business name ideas with him when he came back to the UK, hence the same name as the US chain of stores." And there the matter rests. Croydon''s very own slice of '70s Americana was short-lived – but certainly memorable.