Beloved Burton shopkeeper prepares to move on

Published 1:30 am Wednesday, October 31, 2018

Sandy Mattara’s deep, infectious laughter finishes the sentence.

“Be all that you can be. Do all that you can do. And the rest of it’s left to —.”

Indeed, most conversations at Harbor Mercantile in Burton end with Mattara’s laughter, joined by anyone at the counter or within earshot.

Mattara, known simply as “Sandy” to many on the island, has held down the center of this community web for 40 years, since she and her husband Frederick bought the store in December 1977, when she was 36 and their daughter Alysa was 10 years old.

“I didn’t have any ambitions,” she declares. “I just worked.”

And work she has, six days a week, from early morning until 6:30 p.m. for all these years.

They came from California and were surprised, she says, at how strongly island people hated Californians. She told them, “Oh, just get over it!” And they certainly have, for these days, a steady stream of folks, old men, young children and everyone in between, comes to the store for fresh produce, bits and pieces of hardware, ice, beer, wine, a tiny fistful from the big candy carousel, or just to talk with Mattara. They chit chat about their lives, jobs, dreams and disappointments. She may be the world’s best listener, followed by a snappy comeback that leaves them laughing — and feeling better. Or at least, understood.

Mattara’s husband became chronically ill soon after they got here and has lived in Boise for many years; she makes the trip bi-weekly to be with him.

“It’s my life — the store. I have a wonderful life here,” she said. “All my life, since my husband left, I’ve been protected here. I feel so lucky.”

Mattara takes time for each child, and many aspects of the store are for them — the odd groups of dolls or toys, large stuffed animals that sit around on shelves above canned goods.

“We, as adults, don’t notice them,” she said “But the children do and they feel at home. It’s important for children to know that we’re always loving them, always listening to them.”

Then there’s the dogs. All the dogs know Sandy’s — as the store is widely known. They come in, with or without their owners, to demand treats from the big bottle of free dog treats next to the cash register. There is also free coffee and tea at the ready and a microwave that’s handy for a customer to heat up a sandwich from the fridge.

A couple who live on their boat at the nearby marina came in for their morning coffee recently and sat outside to revel in the October sunshine. Neighbor men, cup in hand, often sit inside at the front desk, and sometimes join in on the conversations that swirl through.

All the while, Mattara is answering the phone, ringing up purchases, directing a customer to go to the right aisle for whatever oddment it is that they’re looking for, processing Burton Water Company bills, bagging, talking, just plain busy, hour after hour.

“I’ve got rules for everything,” she said. “I’m a bossy ol’ witch.”

One of her rules is no bullying, which she makes sure does not happen in her store. Children pay attention and learn respect.

Indra’s web, the mythic story in which everything is interconnected in some way, is an illustration of Mattara’s store, with this generous, smart-talking, hard-working, deeply compassionate woman at its center.

“You gotta understand, people are important. This store is all about what people need. Not just Burton, the whole damn island!” she said.

At the end of October a new owner, also from California, came on board, and for the next two weeks, Mattara will be training him in the quirks of Harbor Mercantile and its patrons.

Nov. 15 is the date Mattara will leave for Boise to be with her husband. The whole community is already grieving their loss, coming in for a quick hug. But she reminds everyone to support the new owners right from the start.

“Make them feel comfortable and welcome, for their success with the store will determine the success of my retirement, you see!” she said. “I don’t think I would have wanted my life any different. I have accomplished what I wanted to do here, it’s time to move on.”

She throws back her head and laughs triumphantly.

But, in the pantheon of well-loved neighborhood stories, from Sesame Street to Mr. Rogers, Sandy’s store will live on.

A goodbye dessert potlock will meet at 2 p.m. Sunday, Nov. 4, at Camp Burton.

Editor’s note: Kaj Wyn Berry wrote The Beachcomber article when Sandy and Fred Mattara arrived 40 years ago. Sandy asked that she write this story “to make this article come full circle” about her leaving.