April 23, 1969: The Morning Prince George Walked Into Something New

At 9:30 on a Wednesday morning, the doors opened at 1601 Victoria Street… and for a lot of people in Prince George, that moment stuck.

Not because it was just another grocery store.

But because it felt like the future had arrived, right there in the middle of town.

The new Overwaitea wasn’t small. Seventeen thousand square feet of bright lights and wide aisles — the kind of place where you didn’t just run in for one thing… you stayed a while. The ads called it a “One-Stop Food Shopping Centre,” and for 1969, that wasn’t just marketing talk. That was a whole new way of doing everyday life.

Running the show was manager Gerry Derkatch, a name that showed up right in the newspaper invites. Not tucked away. Not corporate. Just Gerry, welcoming people in. And that detail matters, because even with all the size and modern touches, the store still felt local.

You could see it in the products.

Milk coming from Dairlyland, Fraser Maid, and Palm. Eggs supplied by the local Veeken Farm. It wasn’t just about convenience — it was about connection. Even as things got bigger, Prince George was still shopping close to home.

Inside, there was plenty to talk about.

A walk-in cooler that could hold a ten-day supply of meat. A meat counter stretching more than 140 feet. And then there was the piece everyone seemed to remember — the lazy susan barbecue that could roast up to 80 chickens at once.

Eighty chickens turning, right there in the store.

You didn’t need a sign to find it. You just followed the smell.

And then there was the bakery.

Supplied by Pastry Chef, turning out fresh bread and baked goods daily. Those big 20-ounce loaves of brown and white bread — the kind that made the drive home a little shorter because someone always tore off a piece early.

The store wasn’t just about buying food. It was about experiencing it.

You could grab your groceries, then sit down at the 18-stool coffee bar. Coffee, burgers, soup, sandwiches. Piped-in music overhead. Carts rolling by. Eight checkout counters keeping things moving. It turned a routine errand into something that felt… social.

Even outside, things were changing. Plans were already in place for a 120-car parking lot once the old store was demolished — a sign that the city wasn’t just growing, it was adapting.

And of course, the grand opening specials did their job.

Carnation milk — six tins for 89 cents.
Coffee — 69 cents a pound.
Peanut butter — 99 cents.

And 100 large food hampers being given away to lucky winners.

But if you ask people today, they don’t usually start with the prices.

They talk about the feeling.

Walking in for the first time. Seeing something bigger than what they were used to. Smelling fresh bread and barbecue chicken at the same time. Realizing that Prince George was becoming something new… while still holding onto what made it feel like home.

The store itself is gone now.

But for a lot of people, it’s not really gone at all. It’s still there in the way people remember shopping, gathering, and noticing the little details — like where the eggs came from, or who baked the bread, or the name of the manager who welcomed them in.

That’s the part that lasts.

And in a funny way, it’s the part that still matters today.

Because whether it’s 1969 or 2026, the businesses people remember aren’t just the ones that showed up.

They’re the ones that felt like they belonged.

And that’s exactly the kind of story we help tell.

Do you remember that Overwaitea on Victoria? Or what it felt like walking into it for the first time?

trish at pg-designs dot ca