A Little Extra, Just in Case
There was something unique about walking into Mutti Hardware in Hopkins, where a world of possibilities surrounded you. Entering from the south, the layout unfolded like a treasure map. On the left, an assortment of fishing poles, tackle, BB guns, and ammunition caught your eye. Homewares were scattered throughout the central floor area, while the north side featured colorful paint displays and the rhythmic hum of the paint mixer. A small ramp led to an adjacent space filled with larger appliances—washers, dryers, stoves, and ranges standing like sentries. To the right of the entrance, tools and hardware took center stage, anchored by the front counter where advice was given, and purchases finalized. In the back, if you were lucky enough to venture there, you’d find a workshop filled with rope, wire, chain, and a sturdy bench for repair work.
The space had a distinct blend of odors—a mix of varnish, hemp rope, oil coating bolts and screws to ward off rust, the occasional whiff of fresh paint, and years of accumulated dust. Dust collected from customers’ boots and shoes, as well as from the open door on fair-weather days. Underneath it all lingered the sweet smell of tobacco, which originated from repairman Bill Melvin’s pipe. Though I never knew the exact brand, I’m convinced the blend included cherry. That faint aroma was as much a part of the store as the assortment of wares for sale, a scent that seemed to carry the essence of the community itself.
George Mutti was the steady heart of the front counter, a presence as dependable as the store. Any time you walked into Mutti Hardware, George was there—ready to guide your search, share his insight, and ensure you left with everything you needed for your project. His customer service was textbook: he didn’t just ask what you needed, but also asked about you—and genuinely listened to the answer. His depth and breadth of knowledge matched the diversity of the store’s inventory, making every visit feel both personal and productive.
One trip stands out. I was there to buy bell wire for a train layout. When George asked how many feet I needed, I didn’t have an answer. So, in usual fashion, he asked what I was building. Together, we worked out what should be enough. In the back room, I unrolled the wire across the measurement on the floor, George watching with quiet patience. As he prepared to cut, he pulled a little extra and said, “Just in case.”
Today, there are few places left where you can buy wire by the foot. Big box stores sell pre-measured spools of 25, 50, and 100 feet. Need 30 feet? You’ll have to buy the 50-foot spool. That extra attention to detail and service George provided feels like a relic of another era—an era when places like Mutti Hardware weren’t just stores, but cornerstones of the community, and George wasn’t just a shopkeeper, but a part of our lives.
Tom Brand, a native of Hopkins, Missouri, believes in always cutting a little extra—just in case. After nearly two decades in farm broadcasting and leadership roles, he now serves as director of the St. Joseph Community Alliance. Tom and his wife, Beth, live in St. Joseph, where they enjoy time with family, friends, and the occasional trip down memory lane.