Our history expert solves local mysteries: who, what, when, where, why, and why not. Well, sometimes.

photograph courtesy memphis and shelby county room / benjamin hooks central library

A well-stocked WeOna store in the 1940s. Note the nice arrangement of canned goods along the back wall.

Dear H.R.: These days, it seems Memphians have their choice of two kinds of grocers: Kroger, and all the rest. And “all the rest” includes the big-box stores that also sell groceries Kroger, with some 20 stores in the Memphis area, is the biggest name in town. It may surprise readers to know they’ve been around more than a century, when a fellow named Bernard Kroger — yes, that’s the origin of the name — opened a small store in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1883.

Go back a generation or two in Memphis, though, and even though Kroger was one option for families, they could also shop at Sees s el’s, Montesi’s, Pic-Pac, MegaMarket, Big Star, and of course Piggly Wiggly.

image courtesy the commercial appeal

I’m not going to repeat the story — told in this column at least 300 times, it seems — about Memphian Clarence Saunders’ invention of the modern-day supermarket with his Piggly Wiggly self-service stores, which first opened here in 1916. But even though those were a tremendous success, a look through old newspapers from the early 1900s reveals Arrow, Silver Saver, Leadway, Liberty Cash, and many other grocers ran full-page ads that seemingly listed every single product shoppers could find on their shelves.

So that (finally) brings us to WeOna — always spelled with a capital “O.” Those national chains were stiff competition for the little mom-and-pop grocers who opened tiny stores in neighborhoods all over Memphis. These were family-owned businesses, and often those families lived above, or in back of, their compact buildings. Keep in mind that in the early 1900s, few people in Memphis owned cars, so it was much easier to stroll down the block and shop at the corner grocery, than catch a ride or take the bus or trolley to the larger markets. Besides, the kind of place where “everybody knows your name” often operated as the heartbeat of the community, the place where you’d meet your friends and neighbors.

“WeOna was given preference not because of its brilliance, but because of its utter simplicity and homeliness. It expresses a basic idea with astonishing directness: We Own A Food Store.” — The Commercial Appeal

But it was a daily challenge for individual store owners to compete with the “big boys.” So in 1930, a dozen Italian-owned grocers decided to band together to form their own small chain. This would allow them to get better prices from their suppliers, since they could purchase in bulk, and they could certainly save money on newspaper advertising. Instead of each store buying its own small ad, the owners could run a single large ad, with the names and addresses of each store running across the bottom.

The meat display case of a WeOna grocery. In the 1950s, you could stock your refrigerator for only a few dollars.

Even so, such a venture still needed an identity, and I don’t know who came up with this idea, but the grocers announced a local competition to name their new venture. On March 14, 1930, The Commercial Appeal announced that among the “thousands upon thousands of submissions — good, ordinary, and distinguished”) the winner was “WeOna,” submitted by Mrs. S.A. Brown of Shaw, Mississippi. She received a $100 check for her effort.

It’s a catchy name, all right, and the newspaper explained, “WeOna was given preference not because of its brilliance, but because of its utter simplicity and homeliness. It expresses a basic idea with astonishing directness: We Own A Food Store. Back of that statement lies the history of each grocer — hard work, struggle, and triumphant survival.”

Bittman’s WeOna — number 12 in the chain — handed out decks of playing cards as promotions for the store.

So, to answer the reader’s question: No, “Weona” was not a family name.

I’m sure the fact that it sounded vaguely Italian also played a role in its selection. But by some accounts “Weona” was actually a Native-American name. A town in Arkansas had been called that since the late 1800s, and such businesses as the Weona Lumber Company and Weona Land Company (probably connected in some way) were major employers in this area around the same time. In Memphis in the 1920s, a Weona Women’s Club met for cards every weekend, and men formed a Weona Lodge here.

Now, I’m not trying to take anything away from Mrs. Brown. I’m just saying she took an existing name and saw how it could sound “Italian” and convey the individual ownership of the stores. That was an important part of the WeOna Chain, you see. Even in the newspaper ads, they made sure to remind people of the family involvement. The Commercial Appeal proclaimed, “You share in the profits. Every WeOna store is individually owned and operated. That means you get personal service, courteous attention, and quality foods selected for you by the store owner.” Families shopped at Lenow’s WeOna #75 on Peabody, Bittman’s WeOna #12 on Lamar, or Bruno’s WeOna #58 on East McLemore (just to name a few I’ve written about before), whereas the larger chains just became numbers: Arrow Store #21, or Leadway #12, for example.

After a while, though, WeOna did the same as the other chain, as their number of stores grew. What began with only a dozen stores in 1930 had expanded to 70 by 1940. The last WeOna store was #178, located at 2948 Chelsea.

photograph courtesy special collections, university of memphis libraries

The main WeOna warehouse in the 1940s. The building is still standing today, now home to a roofing contractor, but little changed over the years.

About this time, the WeOna grocers realized another benefit of pooling their resources. It gave them the financial means to construct a massive, centrally located warehouse for all the stores here. Inside were crates of canned goods, bread, meat, fruit, candy, and dairy products — including the WeOna Farms brand of butter. Although you can’t tell from the old black-and-white photo shown here, the modern yellow-brick building on at 670 South Cooper carried a sign above the entrance spelling out “WeOna” in bright-orange neon.

The network of stores continued to thrive until the mid 1960s or so, but finally they — along with so many other “mom-and-pop” businesses around town — came to the sad realization that despite their best efforts, they simply couldn’t compete with the larger chains. These were small stores after all, and despite the personal service, shoppers preferred the larger selection offered at Pic-Pac and Big Star.

I can’t tell you when all the “official” WeOna” stores closed in Memphis. Many of the old buildings have survived, now housing other businesses (that last store on Chelsea still operates as a neighborhood market, but the WeOna sign is gone). And if you think the WeOna warehouse on Cooper looks familiar, that’s because it’s still standing, little changed from when it was first constructed. For half a century it housed Toof Printing, and now it’s home to Lehman-Roberts, a roof contracting firm.

Got a question for Vance?

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Vance Lauderdale is the history columnist for Memphis magazine and Inside Memphis Business. His dramatic life story is so well-known that schoolchildren are taught to recite it for extra credit.

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