This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2006, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

CALDWELL, Idaho - George Randall is losing his store, and a good chunk of his life, to progress.

It's not that it's an especially profitable store. It's filled with mostly old merchandise, except for the daily newspapers and a small area dedicated to adult magazines and tapes.

But to 73-year-old George, who cannot walk or talk because of cerebral palsy, his newsstand/souvenir shop in downtown Caldwell is where he has spent nearly every day for 46 years.

The city that rallied behind George in the 1950s and '60s to help him open George's Gyp Joint cut him a check recently for $15,000 to close its doors. Over the next year, George's newsstand and the aging department store building next door will be torn down as the city restores Indian Creek and seeks new development.

For the city, it also means closing the door on the last porn seller downtown.

For George, it means losing his weekly income and daily social contact. And, for the man who spent 21 years in a state home unable to communicate, it means dealing with the fear that his life could end in state care, this time a nursing home.

Past its prime: George's Gyp Joint has passed its heyday. The green-and-lavender-striped siding is faded, rundown. Old souvenirs, ceramic salt and pepper shakers and Idaho state lapel pins line shelves that cross the windows.

Another stopping point is the sex-themed material inside, behind a wall and swinging door in a space smaller than most bedroom closets. George sits in his electric wheelchair in front of the swinging door, limiting access to the adult material.

He uses his one functional arm to tap ''hello'' on the communication board attached to his wheelchair. The board has an alphabet and dozens of words and phrases George is most likely to use.

His head tilts backwards and sideways, his feet crossed and shoeless. His tiny store is dirty; the souvenirs are dusty. Flies buzz crumbs of food on the desk next to George.

You know your store is different than other stores, right?

''Yes,'' he taps.

You know that I'm going to have to tell what it's really like, yes?

A pause, then a tap. ''Whatever.''

Fight to communicate: George was born in Weiser in 1932. Had he been born 20 years later, his life might have been much different. Cerebral palsy therapies changed rapidly after the 1950s; it's likely he would have at least learned to communicate earlier.

''At age 5, I was little more than a convulsive, supposedly unknowing, unthinking, suffering, and crippled blob of flesh,'' he wrote in his 1963 book, Castor Oil and Laughter.

''In sorrow, I was put away in the state institution.''

He was never expected to leave.

''I was there when he had to go, and [my mother] couldn't carry him around any more,'' remembers his sister, Arlene Given of Weiser.

The family took him to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota and even tried Chinese herbs before he went to the Idaho State School and Hospital in Nampa.

It was 15 years before he began to learn letters and words. When he was 21, the institution began to send him to classes. He studied for five hours a week.

In 1957, a Caldwell News-Tribune editor wrote a story about a young man who was determined to communicate. Within a year, George began his life again, at first at a nursing home, and then on his own.

Caldwell's forsaken hero: In some ways, George's success was tied to the then-thriving community, said Bob Carpenter, owner of Carpenter Screen Printing in Caldwell.

Articles were written about George's needs and accomplishments in all the Valley newspapers throughout the '60s. One article called him ''Caldwell's courageous handicapped citizen.''

His first newsstand was a card table inside the Idaho Department Store foyer. They offered him space in the parking lot, and the Jaycees pounded together a building.

''He wouldn't have any charity,'' said Les Summers, who owned Summers Office Supply. ''So Frank Payne and I arranged at the bank to guarantee his note, so he got into business. He didn't know. But he paid off the loan, slick as a button.''

These days, traffic in George's store is at a standstill.

Fear moves in: Carpenter and Summers say times have changed, and it's harder for people with disabilities in some ways.

''When he first did this, he was a novelty,'' said Carpenter. ''There was a lot of community around him. It's a different town now.''

The friends who still surround George are dedicated.

In the middle of the day, George is likely to get a phone call from Lisa Lopez of Nampa, who lived in Caldwell as a child. ''I kind of grew up with him. When I was a kid, he had a motorized wheelchair that you could get on and ride. It's kind of crazy to think about what we did.''

These days, she drives from Nampa to visit him daily. Why have you stuck around?

''I don't know . . . I love him, my children love him to death. You just have to sit down and get to know him.''

Caldwell city officials and others called George a ''hard case.'' The city has bought buildings that will be torn down to uncover Indian Creek as a downtown amenity.

Unlike other business owners in the way of the Indian Creek renewal project, George doesn't own the land on which his store sits. Unlike the early days, no one offered him any affordable options.

Dennis Cannon, Caldwell's redevelopment coordinator, was happy the Caldwell Urban Renewal District could provide funding for George. And, he said, George had also seemed pleased with the $15,000 to discontinue his business.

When asked about the payment, George typed ''disappointed,'' but didn't elaborate. His friends say they wonder if the amount was fair and believe he'll have to apply for state funding to live.

George plans to finish his next book, continuing the story of his life. During a good week, he can type about a page and a half.

For now, he continues to ride his electric wheelchair to the store about 6 a.m. each day from his mobile home near downtown. He usually stays at work until 9 p.m.

The Gyp Joint's doors are set to close Oct. 20. His ''going out of business'' and ''I quit sale'' signs are drawing a few more visitors to the store. Recently, someone slipped a letter under his door to tell him goodbye.

What will you miss, George?

Tap, tap, tap. ''Friends, teenagers, everything.''

What are you afraid of, George?

He points to the word ''bored.'' He taps some more. ''Don't want nursing home.''