From a distance it doesn’t look like a fair fight. On one side are multinational corporations, the World Trade Organization, investment bankers, economics professors, management consultants, and what is generally considered the long sweep of history. Bravely squaring off against them all is Dooney’s Café, a bar and grill near the Bathurst subway station in Toronto.
But don’t count Dooney’s out. Its patrons may be few in number, but they are fiercely loyal to this neighborhood hang-out. They don’t want T.G.I.Friday’s, Burger King or another cookie-cutter corporate-concept eatery coming in to replace Dooney’s — no matter how much sense it would make on somebody else’s balance sheet. This is because Dooney’s is a unique spot that expresses the spirit of this lively corner of Toronto. And that’s something worth fighting for.
I’ve never been there, but I will stand up and fight for Dooney’s too, thanks to Brian Fawcett, a breakfast regular at the place who wrote a book, Local Matters: A Defence of Dooney’s Café and other Non-globalized Places, People, and Ideas (New Star Books). He lovingly celebrates the neighborhood around Dooney’s — his neighborhood — as a place where there are, “enough familiar faces to make you understand you’re not doomed to be a stranger in a strange land, or a mere consumer target in an entertainment or retail sales complex.” I think that description is the highest praise you can bestow upon any neighborhood anywhere.
I will also stand up for Powell Mercantile in Powell, Wyoming. I’ve never been there either, but this clothing store has accomplished the impossible, according to noted environmental writer Bill McKibben. It has stayed in business in a town with a Wal-Mart store nearby. Wal-Mart has driven countless locally-owned business to ruin as it marched across the North American countryside. In Iowa alone, it bankrupted 555 groceries, 298 hardware stores, 293 building supply stores, 161 variety stores, 158 women’s clothing stores, 153 shoe stores, 116 drug stores, and 111 men’s and boy’s clothing stores in a ten-year period. The economy and culture of these places has changed drastically, McKibben notes in Orion magazine, now that local shoppers’ money flows out of town rather than circulating again and again throughout the community.
Powell Mercantile beat the trends because it is owned by the community itself; 500 citizens put up money to launch the store because they didn’t want to see their Main Street boarded up. Indeed the store’s success has started a chain reaction, with other shops opening up in once-empty storefronts. Powell has come back to life. And now the town of Worland, ninety miles south, is now doing the same thing.
It thrills me to learn of the success of Dooney’s and Powell Mercantile in resisting the tidal wave of big, dumb franchises. And it makes me thankful for the valuable, and vital locally-owned businesses that grace my neighborhood in Minneapolis. Within a few blocks of home, I’ve got Roadrunner Records, a funky shop where you’ll find few CDs by the likes of Britney Spears, Alan Jackson or Eminem. But almost every other musical genre imaginable – from Persian classical music and electronica experimentation to gospel classics and obscure gems of grunge rock – is in abundance. Across the street is Anodyne, a bustling coffee shop that I have never once entered without spotting a neighbor, friend or old acquaintance. Down the street is Odds N Ends, an antique store with an impeccable collection of top-notch bric-a-brac, curious art, and the finest selection of great old rugs I’ve ever seen – at prices you can actually afford.
Then there’s Victor’s 1959 Café, an old diner run with deliciously authentic Cuban food where a sign directs you to booths on either the left wing (Che posters) or the right wing (Free Elian posters). Kitty-corner from there is the Fairy Godmother store, a marvelous selection of books, gifts and other fun and inspiring items that remind us the world is still full of magic and mystery. And speaking of mystery, down the block stands an inscrutable junk shop with no formally agreed upon name, a live-in owner who is open only when the mood strikes him, and dangerously steep piles of stuff that include magazines from the ‘40s and ‘50s, old lunch boxes, mismatched housewares, and all manner of pop culture artifacts. He also sells solar power supplies over the web. And ran for mayor last year on a Green/No New Taxes platform. Go figure.
And right around the corner from me is Caffe Tempo, a coffeeshop where this morning my wife Julie and I recently ordered eleven dollar and six cents worth of breakfast, tea and greeting cards before realizing neither of us had brought a or wallet. “Don’t worry, “ said the smiling clerk, “just bring it the next time.” Imagine that happening at a Starbuck’s, Denny’s or any chain store more beholden to distant stockholders than neighbors. Places like Caffe Tempo and Dooney’s Café are not just the soul but also the backbone of our communities.
And while locally-owned shops sometimes go out of business here in Minneapolis, many more are opening all the time in the numerous humble storefronts across town that have proved to be one of the city’s greatest economic assets. This exposes the lie the lie that independent stores are a thing of the past destined to go the way of the horse-and-buggy. The entrepreneurial urge in North Americans is strong and can only be extinguished if folks like you and I turn our backs on small, distinctive businesses in favor of big, boring boxes.
So if you don’t want to see your hometown totally overrun by soulless Wal-Marts, Old Navys, and Blockbuster Videos, then stand up and make a stand for the local merchants in your town. The future of your community depends on it.