More than once, a black bear has wandered into Fred’s General Mercantile on Beech Mountain, by which we mean on Beech Mountain. At more than 5,000 feet above sea level, the store is only a few hundred feet below the mountain’s topmost noggin, tucked into a curve of the Beech Mountain Parkway that ferries skiers and snowboarders and mountain bikers and hikers toward some of North Carolina’s most popular Blue Ridge adventures. Since Beech Mountain is the highest incorporated community east of the Mississippi River, then surely Fred’s is the highest general store and breakfast stop and lunch deli in the right-hand side of the country.

Creature comforts can feel few and far between at the top of a mountain — that’s where Fred’s General Mercantile comes in. photograph by Derek Diluzio

But back to those bears. During a recent incident, one slipped through the side door, swiped a bag of jalapeño kettle chips, and bolted back outside. There, the bruin opened up the snack bag and tried a taste, then tossed the bag aside as if to say, Who in the heck eats jalapeño kettle chips? It came back into the store for a second try, but bears can’t read. It picked up a bag of the same flavor, chomped on a few chips, then left again, sauntering into the big woods behind the store. In the 45-year history of one of North Carolina’s most iconic general stores, that bear was one of the few disgruntled customers.

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Fred’s opened in February of 1979, not quite two years after a pair of Beech Mountain lovebirds named Fred and Margie were married. They brought an exquisite High Country pedigree to the place. Fred Pfohl had worked as director of ski operations for Beech Mountain in the winter, and in the summer, he’d managed the Land of Oz theme park. His new wife, Margie, had been a Beech Mountain summer resident. The couple met while working for the local recreation department, guiding canoeing and backpacking trips.

After Beech Mountain Resort was established in 1967, Fred Pfohl saw a need for the essentials among the growing number of visitors and residents. He and his wife, Margie, opened Fred’s General Mercantile in 1979. photograph by David Uttley

At the time, Beech Mountain was as out-of-the-way as you could find. Getting ahold of practically anything meant a long, winding, and sometimes dangerous drive down to Banner Elk. One day, Margie was in need of a can of tuna to make a casserole, and the only one Fred could find on the mountain was an overpriced tin in a local convenience store.

With that single can, the seed for their business was planted. The Pfohls sold two houses — and everything else they could put a price tag on — and opened Fred’s General Mercantile. From the beginning, it was all about community: Neighbors helped stock the shelves the night before the store opened.

Employees like Reed Smith keep customers stocked up on goods and information: A weather station on the roof reports daily temperatures, precipitation, humidity, and high winds in Beech Mountain. photograph by David Uttley

The place was designed by Jack Pentes, the mastermind behind the beloved Land of Oz. Tin-roofed and wood-floored, the mercantile creaked and groaned, a woodstove in the center pumping out heat and gathering customers close by. The store was part fairy tale and part crazy dream but also part of a well-considered business plan. And for folks living and visiting along the crown of the Blue Ridge, it was a godsend.

Fred’s General Mercantile has never closed. Not for a single day. My visit occurred on the 45th year, 5th month, and 20th day of business. At the time, the store had been open 16,607 days in a row. I pointed out the calculation to Fred, who sat on a wooden barrel and greeted a steady stream of customers. He ran a hand across his thinning reddish-gray hair, shook his head, and grinned: “No wonder I have a bad foot.”

• • •

Here is a random sampling of what you can buy at Fred’s: Yahtzee and bacon. Most anything you need to cook most anything you want for breakfast, lunch, or supper. Hard candy and soft taffy. Deer corn and birdseed. Toilet bolts, wrench sets, and shop-vac filters. Pacifiers and pancake mix. Hiking boots and heirloom garlic grown above 4,000 feet in elevation. And a plastic protractor. When was the last time you saw a plastic protractor? For a buck fifty-nine, you can take one home.

You can get a key made. Buy a fishing license. Buy a pail and fill it with fresh fishing worms. Gawk at the “snow pole” out front that keeps a running tally of how much of the white stuff falls each year.

Stock up on the necessities at Fred’s, from cozy chili to winter wear and ski equipment. photograph by Derek Diluzio

If your toddler gets antsy, as toddlers tend to do, they are welcome to work the big red button on the front counter, which starts a G scale model train that runs on an elevated railroad track overhead.

You can walk out with local honey and Boar and Castle Sauce from Greensboro. But if you want a pie — homemade apple, say, or Toll House chocolate chess and pecan — you’ll need to give a two-day notice.

A snow pole near the entrance tops out at the 138-inch snowfall of 2010. Fred built the pole himself and has had to add to it during particularly snowy winters. photograph by David Uttley

Here is what is in perpetual short supply at Fred’s, and as such are items rarely stocked: Surly attitudes. Folks in too much of a hurry. People who don’t feel like they are blessed to have found such a place.

In one hour of old-fashioned, good, clean loitering, I met a cross-section of Beech Mountain residents and visitors: A fellow who was buying fishing worms and wanted to show off photographs of a 20-pound snapping turtle he recently caught. A local paramedic who stopped by for milk, eggs, and waffle mix. A woman who wanted a selfie made with Fred that she could show off to her friends back home. She simply could not believe that Fred was right there, in the flesh, at Fred’s General Mercantile.

• • •

It’s not like time has stood still at Fred’s. Fred is a very savvy businessman, and he can change with the times. The store no longer sells camera film or rents DVDs. It used to sell the Sunday Miami Herald — that came on a Trailways bus to Banner Elk and was in the store on Monday mornings. “People thought that was amazing,” Fred says, “but that was before Amazon Prime.”

The most difficult change of all, by far, was losing Margie in June of 2020. Margie was the heart of Fred’s, the bedrock, the foundation. Fred is the first to admit that. Whenever most of the employees went out on a volunteer fire department call, Margie held down the fort at Fred’s. When half the staff was out building hiking trails across Beech Mountain — community service was encouraged by the Pfohls — Margie stayed back with her hand on the wheel. She loved the store like family, and she treated the store like family. Always there. Ever vigilant.

Margie and Fred Pfohl (right, pictured in 2009 with Bernie Knepka and John Hoffman) always welcomed customers with a smile. Photography courtesy of Fred Pfohl

“We always steered clear of things you didn’t want your children to have,” Fred says. “Margie was the overseer of that.” Rolling papers, toy guns, toy knives. Nope, nope, and nope. “She didn’t even want to sell National Geographic.” He chuckles. “Some of those pictures didn’t sit right with her.”

After Margie passed away, it was a hard, hard time in a bad, bad time. For a while, some of the spirit and soul seemed to have left the store. But only for a while. These days, it seems, Fred’s customers show up with goodwill and cheer, bringing both up the creaky wooden steps and past the snow pole and the front porch full of fresh vegetables in season, giving back to Fred’s a bit of what the old store has given to them over the years.

Margie and Fred Pfohl’s daughter, Carol Sposato, welcomes everyone with a smile. photograph by David Uttley

Fred and Margie’s daughter Carol Sposato has long been a Fred’s fixture, and now has come to work full-time. She helps manage the store and bakes pies and brownies and cookies. She’s the one you’ll need to talk to about getting a pie baked on the quick.

Early in the morning, I’m there when the first of the breakfast crowd arrives. It’s a classic Southern breakfast diner hot spot, with a major difference: The mix of accents is hilarious, thanks to Beech Mountain’s popularity among out-of-staters. Around their usual table sits Bob Hanrahan, a Floridian originally from Massachusetts. Dr. Jeff Fabri from Tampa. Jay Kisz from the west coast of Florida. Jesse Small, originally from New York and then Miami. One thing they’ve all learned in their time down South? They can hoot and holler with the best of ’em.

Most mornings, you’ll find devoted regulars gathered in the sunroom at Fred’s Backside Deli. Photography courtesy of Fred Pfohl

And there’s Jim Brooks, a real-estate broker with a trim white beard and a soft spot in his heart for Fred’s. And for Fred. Brooks has been a broker in Beech Mountain since 1971, and has been pals with Fred since they met in grade school in Greensboro. After Margie passed away, Brooks was an anchor in the group of locals and Fred’s regulars who checked in on Fred, and who continue to be there for the man who has always been there for Beech Mountain.

“In the summers when we first got here,” Brooks says, “there wasn’t anything to do up here but be friends with your friends, so you learned to be nice to everyone.”

From a light dusting to a thick blanket of powder, Fred’s General Mercantile stays open through all weather events.  photograph by Derek Diluzio

Such a welcoming attitude is a hard thing to bottle up. It’d be tough to put that in a box or basket, to put a price on it and line it up on a shelf.

But it’s there at Fred’s. Somewhere on the other side of the little die-cast metal toy trucks. Over by the pickled quail eggs. Keep looking. Right there in front of you.

Hospitality and good cheer? They’re always in stock. They’ll never sell out of that kind of stuff at Fred’s.

Fred’s General Mercantile
501 Beech Mountain Parkway
Beech Mountain, NC 28604
(828) 387-4838
fredsgeneral.com