By Shari Held
Even before you walk through the leaded glass door of Arbuckle’s Railroad Place in Noblesville, the vintage railroad cars let you know you’re in for a unique experience. Inside, gas lights lend a soft glow and old-time ambience, highlighting a treasure trove of items from past eras—a train bell, an assortment of old tools, a tandem bicycle, a stuffed-animal covered piano advertising “Arbuckle’s Railroad Place - Free Pretzels & Beer.”
The memorabilia is showcased alongside Arbuckle’s tools of the trade—spools of thread, reels of ribbon, fabrics, quilts and sewing machines, antique and new. Every item has a story. So does 89-year-old Robert Arbuckle, the heart and soul of the business.
Early years
Arbuckle was born in Lebanon and graduated from Fairmount High School in the early 1940s. It was there that he met Adeline Mart Nall, the drama teacher famous for mentoring James Dean and getting him in front of the cameras. “Adeline Mart Nall had a big influence on my life,” Arbuckle says. “I was very thankful for her guidance in public speaking and acting.”
Cameras figured prominently for Arbuckle as well—but he was behind them, taking the shots. After graduation he moved to Noblesville where his father, a Purdue graduate, had begun teaching the semester before. Arbuckle recalls that his father bought him a 4 x 5 Speed Graphic camera—“the epitome of a press photographer’s camera. . .back when cameras were as big as automobile batteries and weighed about the same.” He attended a professional photography school in Winona Lake before setting off to Uptown Chicago to make his name. “I thought I was a hot-shot photographer,” he quips.
World War II tanked that career before it got off the ground. Arbuckle was sworn into the Navy on October 13, 1942 at the Palmer House Hotel, and soon found himself in Cuba, living in a tent and drinking out of a blister bag while monitoring German submarine activity. Before long, he was selected to attend officer’s training school, where he earned an engineering degree. Arbuckle never did see combat, but he did take the U.S.S. South Dakota from San Diego, around the Panama Canal to Philadelphia where the Navy retired it. The Navy didn’t retire him, however.
“When it came time for me to be discharged, the Navy said they would put me in the Reserves and call whenever they needed me,” Arbuckle says. “Next year on October 13th I will have served in the Navy, active and reserve, for 70 years. I’m still waiting for that call.”
Putting down roots
Arbuckle returned to Noblesville after the war and married his sweetheart, Beverly Pfaff. They had two daughters—Sara, who works with her father, and Linda. At that time, Noblesville’s economy was a mix of industry and agriculture instead of the “service economy” and “bedroom community” it is today. “We attract a lot of people into Hamilton County because of our good educational system and because we have the land for expansion,” Arbuckle says. “But, I see the loss of our industrial base as a tragic thing.”
Arbuckle put his engineering degree to good use, converting treadle sewing machines to electric machines. In 1948 he opened his first store on the north side of the Square, becoming a dealer for the major brands—Pfaff, Necchi, White, Singer and Viking—once new machines became readily available. “I’ve been in the sewing machine business ever since,” he says.
Twelve years later he left the Square—a move precipitated by a one-hour time limit the City placed on parking. Adequate space for loading and unloading trucks was already a challenge, but when the City called Boggs Wrecker Service to tow a customer’s car, that was the last straw. “I said, I got to get out of here,” Arbuckle says. “I bought this place and I have parking for 200 automobiles now. I solved the problem of loading, unloading, parking and traffic, and we also got more square feet and more room to breathe.”
Arbuckle may have taken a roundabout route into the sewing machine business, but he’s had no regrets. “It brings in very creative people,” he says. “People who are making something and are positive in their attitude. That’s been the wonderful part about the business I’m in. It makes for a pleasant lifestyle.”
Going with the flow
In the ‘70s, Arbuckle became an independent dealer, buying sewing machines from a Japanese family and merchandising them under the Arbuckle name. “I was very proud of what we produced,” he says. “And all our machines were marked ‘from Noblesville, Indiana.’” Business was good, and he expanded into fabrics and notions.
Around that time he also began breeding horses and started a livery business. His horse and carriage rides were sought after for weddings, and the City of Indianapolis tried to hire him to provide carriage rides around the Circle—an offer he refused. “I had other fish to fry,” he says. Arbuckle did, however, “put on the dog” for Mel Simon’s Indy 500 parties, which were attended by Hollywood movie stars and celebrities. He opted out of the livery business around 1980, but you can still see the harnesses and photos displayed in the store.
Other ventures that came and went include an office machinery department and bottled gas sales. “We’ve just had to go with the flow to stay in business,” Arbuckle says. “And we are still doing it.” He’s pragmatic when it comes to the future of his business. “It’s disappearing,” he says, noting the decline in home sewing today.
His advice for young entrepreneurs starting out in business today: “Marry a woman who’s got lots of money.”
A zest for life
You’d think at age 89, Arbuckle might entertain thoughts of slowing down. Not so. He enjoys riding his bike—both for exercise and in local parades. In fact, one section of his shop is devoted to bicycle sales and repair. He’s a big advocate of developing the Midland Trail, which passes right by his place, as a bike and hiking trail, and tying it into the Monon Trail.
Another passion is ballroom dancing. Every Sunday night you’ll find him at the Continental Dance Club on Indy’s west side, where he learned his first dance steps 30 years ago.
But his store is where you’ll find him six days a week. “This is my social life,” he says. “Where could I have more fun that I have right here? They say if you find a job you like, you’ll never have to do a day’s work in your life!”
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