One of a disappearing kind Gary Drug thrives as an indie pharmacy

Herman Greenfield and his son, Dan, have a running joke. The two pharmacists kid about how they only recently leaped into the 20th century, a crossover that was marked in January 2003 when they installed a computerized register system at Gary Drug Co., the Charles Street pharmacy they own together. Prior to that, the staff kept track of people's store accounts by hand and wrote credit card charges on carbon copy slips.

But despite the effort to usher the store into the present, a notable chunk of its inventory consists of artifacts that were all the rage in decades past. Brylcreem and a toaster-size wooden case displaying debonair Kent Combs line the shelves alongside products that dominate the pages of today's fashion magazines.

The collection of tough-to-find items, though, is one feature that the Greenfields believe gives Gary Drug a leg up in a market that would seem to increasingly pile the odds against them.

"If it's not a mass-merchandise product, the chains aren't gonna bother carrying it. Our store is just geared to whatever people want. They want Brylcreem? Sure, we'll carry Brylcreem. And all this other stuff," says the elder Greenfield. "But we really only need one customer who wants it to carry it. All we ask is he notify us 10 days before he dies so we can return it," deadpans Herman, 70.

But when it comes to the inventory issue, he's not kidding. With a total of 750 square feet, including the pharmacy space behind the counter, keeping the store organized is an exercise in what Greenfield calls "vertical merchandising." Products nestle snugly yet remarkably tidily along shallow shelves that stretch up to 13 levels high. Since there's only space for two or three of each item on the shelves, restocking is perpetual, which makes it a labor-intensive operation.

Herman Greenfield bought Gary Drug in 1972 from Jack Raverby. He had aquired it from the original owner -- whose son, the Greenfields believe, was named Gary -- who opened it around 1936.

The pharmacy has afforded Greenfield a view of the neighborhood's shifting demographics over the decades, which makes him at once a licensed pharmacist and unofficial social scientist. He attributes the first wave of gentrification in the 1970s, which elbowed out Beacon Hill's large student population and shuttered rooming houses, to the Middle East oil embargo. Suburban professionals who worked downtown relocated their families because of commuting concerns, he theorizes.

"When the area changed and all these young families moved in, there was a huge influx of children, and we called it the 'fertile crescent,' " says Greenfield. "That was really the changeover, and it's just continued. Property values went up, and it became the pricey area it is today."

An increase in the aging population has spawned elderly housing and assisted living programs, like Beacon House, 135 units of subsidized housing that Rogerson Communities, a nonprofit, opened in 1983. Greenfield has adjusted to the consequent demands accordingly. Since the mid-1980s, for instance, sale and rental of home health-care equipment accounts for a growing portion of business. (A fleet of wheelchairs and walkers is stashed in the basement.)

With Medicaid and insurance companies dictating stricter terms on prescription reimbursements, it's also taken a toll. The growing complexity of the system has cut down on profitability and been a "major-league problem," Greenfield says.

According to Todd Brown, executive director of the Massachusetts Independent Pharmacy Association, there are close to 200 independent pharmacies across the state, about a fifth of the number that operated in the late 1970s. But the figures have stabilized over the past three years, he says, largely because of customer satisfaction. An October 2003 survey published by Consumer Reports magazine found more than 85 percent of respondents were very or completely satisfied with their independent pharmacy experience compared with 58 percent for chain pharmacies nationwide.

On a recent Saturday morning at the Greenfields' store, those numbers seemed justified. Customers who flowed in were greeted by name. Eileen Fitzpatrick, a Gary Drug manager for 27 years, asked about spouses, children, and jobs as she rang up people's purchases. Since the Greenfields and their staff, most of whom count their tenure in decades, know their customers so well, they often ship orders when regulars move away or go on vacation, and the store manages a considerable home delivery service. And if a customer needs a quart of milk because he's stuck in the house, they'll pick up on their way over.

Pharmacists, Brown mentioned, also report higher satisfaction working in independent stores. "They're happier in terms of atmosphere, . . . it's more flexible," he says. "And they're treated more like a large family than an employee of a corporation." That outlook applies unconditionally on Charles Street. "[My father] taught me everything about this business -- how to deal with people, customers, and life," Dan, 34, says. "I'll never be as good at it as he is."