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Drug Store Cowboy

When Ted Hustead bought a small drugstore in 1931 on the edge of the Badlands in Wall, South Dakota (population 800), no one anticipated what he and his wife, Dorothy, would make of it. Today, Wall Drug is a multi-million dollar tourism enterprise and a tribute to American ingenuity and marketing skill.

Driving west on Interstate 90 across South Dakota, one is struck by the increasingly parched nature of the landscape. East of the Missouri River crossing at Chamberlain are irrigated fields. West of Chamberlain are open ranges. The transition, however subtle, is for real. As John Steinbeck observed in his 1962 best seller Travels With Charley, the two sides of the river might well be a thousand miles apart. The effect is magnified during the summer months when temperatures soar above 90 degrees Fahrenheit. It is the season when wave upon wave of travelers make their way across the sweltering Great Plains to and from the American West.

Long before the advent of air-conditioned automobiles, and long before the construction of Interstate 90, Ted and Dorothy Hustead were struggling to make a go of it in Wall, South Dakota, a little speck on the map just north of the Badlands in the westernmost part of the state. Ted had bought the town's lone drugstore in 1931 with a $3,000 inheritance from his father, and the first five years had been touch and go. But on a particularly hot summer's day in 1936, Dorothy was struck with an idea that would soon make the drugstore and the town of Wall legendary.

As the Hustead's grandson, Ted, now tells the story, "Looking back, what she did was lay out a complete marketing plan for the future of the drugstore that still works today. She said, `We have to let these people traveling to Mount Rushmore and Yellowstone know that we are here (target customers). We will put up some signs (promotion) and advertise free ice water (product). After all,' she said, `it's 105 degrees outside. This will get people into our store. We have this great big beautiful soda fountain and drugstore with no customers (place-distribution channel)."'

Ted took his wife's advice and put up a few roadside signs the following day advertising "free ice water" at Wall Drug. Before he returned home, passersby were already stopping by their place of business. Indeed, the signs worked so well that Ted erected scores of them throughout South Dakota, Wyoming to the west, and Minnesota to the east. Business boomed, and what started out as a shaky enterprise in the middle of the Depression blossomed into an internationally renowned tourist attraction, with annual revenues now topping $10 million, and annual visitation approaching 2 million -- this in a community whose population has never exceeded 800.

On the surface, the Wall Drug story seems improbable, if not impossible. If "location, location, location" is the mantra of successful businesses, this drugstore would seem to fail on all counts. Located in the middle of "nowhere," with little to offer passing motorists save free ice water and an assortment of Western kitsch and down home hospitality, the drugstore's 65-year prosperity defies easy explanation. Nonetheless, there are several factors that may help account for this curious tourist attraction's enduring popularity.

"See the USA in your Chevrolet ... Dinah Shore

Although Wall Drug has been profitable since the 1930s, its huge success must be attributed, in part, to the boom in outdoor recreation following the Second World War. During the Depression, many Americans were out of work, and many more still were without transportation. The nation was largely sedentary, and people stayed put. The economic boost brought about by the engines of war made it possible for masses of Americans to own automobiles. They also were better informed about the recreational opportunities awaiting them across the land, and they had more disposable income and free time to spend on those opportunities.

This explosion in vacation travel was also sparked by the construction of the interstate highway system, brought about by Cold War concerns for making it possible to move large numbers of troops and civilians quickly away from densely populated areas. In the absence of war, the interstate highway system made it possible for large numbers of vacationers to escape the city as well. Wall Drug was a direct beneficiary of this 1950s Eisenhower era initiative.

Lessons From Burma Shave

The particular genius of Ted and Dorothy Hustead, however, was in their marketing skills. They put up clever individual signs to advertise Wall Drug, and inspired by the popular Burma Shave slogans of the day, they came up with their own jingle. Passing motorists were treated to a series of signs proclaiming: "Get a soda/Get root beer/Turn next comer/just as near/To Highway 16 and 14/Free Ice Water/ Wall Drug." The jingle would linger in travelers' heads long after the town of Wall had receded in the distance.

The Husteads also made a wise decision early on to give Wall Drug signs to anyone who promised to display them upon their return home. Over the decades, this simple ploy resulted in signs being put up all over the world, and in Wall Drug being marketed globally. GI's in World War II, Korea, Vietnam, and most recently, the Gulf War, sent back photos of their Wall Drug signs displayed under combat conditions. Other Wall Drug aficionados have traveled to the ends of the Earth with the signs, photographed them, and then sent them back to the Husteads just for the fun of it. Today, visitors to Wall Drug can see an array of photos on display throughout the store from places as far away as the North and South Poles, the Great Wall of China, the Taj Mahal, and the former Soviet Union. The photos convey the impression, warranted or not, that Wall Drug is known and beloved internationally.

Wall Drug's advertising budget is now hundreds of thousands of dollars, and its ads can be seen on the sides of double-decker buses in London, on road signs in Paris, Amsterdam and Rome, and along the Kenyan railroad between Nairobi and Mombasa. As suggested in a New York Times article upon the occasion of Ted Hustead Sr.'s death in 1999, Wall Drug has become "a tourist attraction that seems famous largely for its very fame." Indeed, the reporter goes on to say, "the quintessential way to experience Wall Drug seems to be to stand at the wall of clippings reading about people standing at the wall of clippings reading about people standing at the wall."

A Nostalgic Quality

In this modern, fast-paced world, passersby take great comfort in Wall Drug's old-fashioned character. You get the feeling that not much has changed in the store since it opened in the 1931, though it clearly has grown in size. The store now encompasses an entire city block and the interior occupies 76,000 square feet. Yet you can still get a cup of coffee for 5 cents, as well as free ice water, and you can amble around on hardwood floors that creak beneath your feet. There are lots of free attractions to keep you amused while strolling about the store, including displays of Western art and a cowboy orchestra that plays every 15 minutes.

The business thrives on its homespun quality, and baby boomers by the thousands make pilgrimages here so they can show their children the very place their parents once showed them.

Wall Drug's nostalgic appeal is no accident. The Husteads know exactly what they are doing. They pride themselves on giving their customers a "wholesome, American experience," one that retains the flavor of yesteryear. Wall Drug is a business, to be sure, and its success is a result of sweat equity, perseverance, marketing genius, and the cohesion of a family run enterprise. Still, there is something more to Wall Drug than meets the eye, making it a particularly instructive story for our time.

Investing in Community

More than the success of their business, and more than their business acumen, what is most admirable about the Husteads is the way they have invested themselves in their community. It would have been easy to take the money and run, or to branch out with new stores in more desirable locales, but the Husteads have resisted doing that. They have made Wall their home. Granted, the town has been good to them financially, but they have also given much in return.

Wall Drug employs hundreds of college students from around the country each summer as well as scores of local residents on a full-time basis. The Husteads have also taken a strong interest in civic life and in the development of tourism throughout western South Dakota. They have made significant investments in community infrastructure, and they have made generous contributions to charitable causes. They have done these things without losing sight of their humble beginnings, and with a strong sense of obligation to give back to a community that has sustained them through good times and bad.

What this story adds up to is a wonderful illustration of the symbiotic potential of individuals living and working together in a small town to make a far-reaching difference. In the words of Ted Hustead, Sr., "It all proves that no matter where you live, you can succeed. What you have to do is reach out to other people with something they need. And when you give people what they need, you've helped them. You'll find that when you help others, you end up helping yourself as well.

That means more than good business; it means a good, happy life." Perhaps the simple wisdom in Ted Hustead's words can energize us much the same way free ice water has energized millions of thirsty travelers over the years who have turned off the highway to visit his most original of tourist traps, Wall Drug of South Dakota.

Daniel L. Dustin, Ph.D. is a professor in Florida International University's Department of Health, Physical Education, and Recreation. His article, "Wall Drug, South Dakota: An original Tourist Trap" appears on page 102.

COPYRIGHT 2001 National Recreation and Park Association
COPYRIGHT 2001 Gale Group