Neighborhood pharmacy prepares to close up shop
Bob Kirkendall was born into his life's work
By Shari Kaplan
For decades, patrons or passersby of Kirk & Bob's Drive-In Pharmacy looked to the humble, homey shop for a reminder that "they don't make 'em like that anymore." Soon, however, the white lines designating the drive-through lane will be removed from the pavement, as the pharmacist likewise removes himself from behind the counter after more than 40 years of dispensing prescriptions, advice and good humor.
The last day of business for the family-run pharmacy at 310 Los Gatos-Saratoga Road is June 29.
"Eight out of 10 people who come here, I can call by name. I also like seeing the kids of my customers grow up. It's more like having friends than having customers," smiles Robert "Bob" Kirkendall, reflecting on some of the things he'll miss about the only profession he's known.
Although grateful that his business is still good, Kirkendall acknowledges it was easier to operate in the days before independent pharmacies began going the way of the dinosaur. His main reason for closing, however, is because he's decided it's time to retire and enjoy more time with his wife, children and grandsons, to travel and try to improve his golf game.
A Los Gatos native, Kirkendall was born into a pharmaceutical family and likes the trade he grew up learning. His father, the late Clyde "Kirk" Kirkendall, was one of the town's early pharmacists, opening Los Gatos Pharmacy at 47 E. Main St. in 1935.
"I grew up in the pharmacy and worked there all my life, so I never had any thoughts of doing anything else," he recalls. "When I was 8 or 9, I started by dusting shelves, then I became a clerk later."
Father and son opened Kirk and Bob's Drive-In Pharmacy in 1958--by then the son had earned his own degree in pharmacology, as his father had done. In the mid-1960s, the family sold Los Gatos Pharmacy and kept only Kirk & Bob's. Over the years, Kirkendall's own children--two sons and a daughter--also spent time learning and running the family business.
Although Kirkendall operates a modern pharmacy and does not hunker over mortar, pestle, flask and medicine dropper, he still hangs onto his father's formulary book--a time-worn binder listing handwritten formulas for remedies to specific complaints. Among them is poison oak lotion, a hangover pick-me-up, sippy powder (a type of antacid), a pain ointment made with cocaine and morphine for topical use only, dental paste, and even a liniment for horses.
The drive-through window was Kirk's idea, his son says--an idea that proved profitable. Kirkendall estimates that approximately 70 percent of business comes through that handy window, which comes complete with a black tripwire on the ground that rings a bell inside the pharmacy when a car drives in.
Those customers who walk in for prescriptions enjoy the added benefit of browsing among general merchandise. The wide variety belies the fact that the whole pharmacy is only "a hair over" 1,000 square feet, according to Kirkendall, whose father had the business built in front of the family home on Monterey Avenue. Greeting cards, gift items, perfume, jewelry, books, candy, gum and over-the-counter products all once filled the pharmacy's shelves, which now are nearly bare.
"We had to stop carrying the chocolate, though, because I ate it all," Kirkendall confesses with a grin.