On a recent Monday afternoon at the West Village apothecary C.O. Bigelow, Ronald Freyberger stood at the rear counter and updated a manager, Joseph Campanile, about the splint on his right hand. “The doctors still aren’t sure what the issue is, but either way, I still need to keep wearing this thing,” he said. Mr. Campanile asked about Mr. Freyberger’s health and how he was feeling that day. ( “All things considered,” he said, “pretty good.”)

While waiting for his prescription to be filled, Mr. Freyberger, 74, sat at one of two wooden chairs at the side of the counter and began bantering with the women working at the store’s expansive beauty island. He said hello to Samantha Watson, who is in her early 30s, and complimented the elegant appearance of Colleen Blanchette, who is in her 60s and has worked at the pharmacy for more than a decade.

“You’re too nice, Ronald,” Ms. Blanchette replied with a smile.

“Coming here is like coming home,” Mr. Freyberger said. As testament to his devotion to C.O. Bigelow, consider that Mr. Freyberger lives in Kingsbridge Heights in the Bronx, about 14 miles away, and has still visited the pharmacy once a week for the last quarter-century.

At a time when chain drugstores are seemingly colonizing every block of New York City, the family-owned C.O. Bigelow, on the Avenue of the Americas between West Eighth and Ninth Streets, has managed not only to survive but to flourish.