When loyal customers read in Thursday’s paper that The Surplus Store in Bangor would be closing at the end of the year, they felt as if they were losing a trusted old friend they’d known forever.

People made a point of wandering in off the streets to pick up a few items and to hang around the familiar, musty, wood-paneled surroundings for a while. Others called the store throughout the day to say how surprised and sorry they were to hear that the 51-year-old Bangor institution was leaving Main Street.

A few might have regretted the store’s closing for purely practical reasons. Where would a guy go now to find those rugged military-issue wool pants he’d hunted deer in since he was a kid?

What other store could a person dash into on her lunch hour and pick up a hunter-orange sweater for her dog and a matching jacket for herself without having to wait in a long line?

And what if someone just happened to need a genuine camouflaged steel Army helmet for some strange reason? Or an official Army-issue P-38 metal can opener? Or military patches for that favorite funky fatigue jacket? Or blousing gaiters, waterproof matches, and metal ammo boxes? How about a real hand grenade – deactivated, of course – for that one-of-a-kind paperweight?

Who else regularly stocked such oddball things?

But for most people, even those who might have visited the Main Street store only a few times each year, this week’s news marked the loss of something more than mere shopping convenience. It was the end of a tradition, too, the last link for many locals to the bustling downtown of their childhoods, the dynamic city center teeming with shoppers that the malls, outlets and Wal-Marts have long ago relegated to memory.

“For a lot of people, this store is kind of a nostalgic place,” said Lee Elston, the store manager, who started working here after high school 25 years ago and never left. “It’s like a country store without the wood stove in the corner. A lot of the same people would come in over the years and just stand around and chat about where the good fishing was or tell hunting or family stories. I’ll miss talking to them.”

In 1949, the store began selling military and civilian outdoor clothing, and camping, fishing and hunting gear at the corner of Franklin and Hammond streets. In 1972, it moved into the former Woolworth’s store on Main Street. Larry Rose, who bought the business from his uncle, Abraham Leibowitz, about 12 years ago, informed the employees in October that he was streamlining the family business. While the original Portland store would continue, along with the company’s new online shopping Web site, the Bangor store ‘s long run was finally over.

“When I was a kid growing up in Etna,” said Elston, who is 43, “we’d take trips to the city to shop. Families came to downtown Bangor from all over. My mother and sister went to Sears and W.T. Grant’s, and my father would always hit The Surplus Store. I bought my first fishing pole here.”

Sears is long gone from the downtown, of course. So are Grant’s, Freese’s and Sleeper’s. So are Smiley’s, Dakin’s, Viner Music Co., Woolworth’s, Day’s Jewelers, Brountas Restaurant, Standard Shoe and other businesses once so familiar to area shoppers in those pre-mall days of the 1950s through the 1970s.

In many ways, the closing of The Surplus Store completes the cycle of change for a downtown that is now struggling to reshape itself for the future.

“I’ve seen them all go out, and we’re about the last one,” Elston said with a shrug as a few customers roamed the aisles. “You wouldn’t believe how busy this place used to be when I started. At Christmas, we’d have 15 to 18 employees working and still we couldn’t keep up with it. Whole families would shop here. You couldn’t even get near the dressing rooms it was so busy. Now you usually don’t see the families anymore. Buying habits have changed over the years.”

In the upscale world of Gap, Abercrombie & Fitch, Filene’s, Eddie Bauer and L.L. Bean, however, The Surplus Store managed to fill an important niche for Roland Mayhew for more than 25 years.

“You just can’t get these anywhere else,” said Mayhew, holding up several pairs of a certain brand of wool socks that he’s always favored for cold days in the woods. “This place has always carried little things that are hard to find – like those sharpening stones over there, and those C-clamp fishing rod holders for your boat. It’s kind of a unique little store like that.”

Fred Osgood, who has shopped at the store for almost 20 years, always thought the store was a special kind of place, too. Not only could he get the cold-weather clothing and fishing gear he liked without ever having to wait in long lines, but he could socialize while he was at it.

“I like to come in here and stand around and talk, you know?” Osgood said, his elbow resting on a display case filled with knives and compasses. “It’s got a relaxed, friendly feel to it that stores don’t have anymore. You don’t feel rushed. I think that’s what I’ll miss the most when this place closes. I’ll miss it big time.”