The building in the old photograph above figured prominently during my childhood years in Vancouver, British Columbia. I knew the 1911 building as the Park Grocery. Originally referred to as the Woodside Apartments and later as the Beacon Hill Grocery, the heritage property at 2598 Eton Street in the Hastings-Sunrise neighborhood is now listed on the Canadian Register of Historic Places. It stands today as a reminder of a time when you could find many similar stores serving the needs of their immediate neighborhoods throughout the city.
My family lived across the street from the Park Grocery. We frequented the store regularly, purchasing food staples like milk, bread, and fruit, as well as miscellaneous sundries including toilet paper, matches, and detergent. Good friends of ours lived on the second floor, in the apartment that occupied that entire story. The store itself was a magnet to the neighborhood’s free-range, baby-boomer children because it always featured a remarkable assortment of chocolate bars, other candies, and ice cream. My parents allowed my brothers and me to buy treats for ourselves every now and then (the amount of candy a dime could buy us back then was amazing).
The Park Grocery (and the
other corner stores that proliferated during the early years of the 20th
century in Vancouver) certainly passed the so-called “popsicle test” of a well-designed neighborhood: If an 8-year-old
kid can safely go somewhere to buy a popsicle, and get back home before it
melts, chances are it's a neighborhood that works. I was that 8-year-old-kid
and that was my neighborhood.
The Park Grocery was only one such corner store well within a few minutes’ walk from our home. The McGill Grocery was a block to the north, and another dubbed the “Little Store” was a block away in the opposite direction. There were literally hundreds of similar stores scattered across the city, each serving as centers of well-connected, walkable communities—places where you interacted and bonded with your neighbors. The few that survive today are vestiges of an age predating the rise of Euclidean zoning policies that segregated uses into specific zones and precluded the inclusion of convenient retail services within both established and new residential enclaves. Those stores that remain (their approved use is “grandfathered” in) continue to offer opportunities for nearby, spur-of-the-moment shopping—opportunities that are otherwise lacking due to exclusionary zoning regulations.
The majority of Vancouver’s corner stores were independently
owned and operated by first-generation immigrants. Most of these proprietors were
from Asia—being Chinese, Korean, or Japanese—since operating such businesses represented
one of the few entrepreneurial options available to them. They often lived
above or behind the shop, which enabled them to operate both early and late in
the day and on Saturdays.(1) Typically, store employees comprised members of
the owner’s extended families. The shopkeepers knew all their customers because
they were their neighbors too.
Each corner store had its own unique and unaffected charm; none were or are franchises of faceless corporate enterprises like 7-Eleven or Circle K. And none were expressly designed to accommodate motorists, so they seldom were accompanied by off-street parking. Patronage almost always arrived on foot or on bicycles.
Even though many recognize
their value, Vancouver’s corner stores have disappeared en masse in
recent decades. Most were victims of Vancouver’s dramatic rise in property values
and the concomitant increase in property taxes. Their meager profit margins
could not keep up with increasing expenses. Many owners sold their shops; in
turn the stores were often razed in favor of more profitable developments
(usually outsized “McMansions” if the sites were zoned R-1).
My decision to write about Vancouver’s historic corner stores goes beyond wistful reminiscing. I consider the subject of corner stores topical.(2) During the current global pandemic, how we live (and work, play, teach our children, and shop for essentials) has been turned on its head. Because we’re staying closer to and spending more time in our homes, the implications are profound for cities everywhere. Eugene is no exception. I recently predicted one outcome may be a trend toward “hyper-localism,” which favors the value of differentiated neighborhood centers. I suggested our neighborhoods may assume a degree of preeminence over Eugene’s greater identity, and that people may come to regard Eugene primarily as a constellation of neighborhoods, each with its own unique character and attractions. I believe small corner stores, locally owned and operated and serving the needs of immediate neighbors, can be part of that trend. The convenience and independence they can offer individuals with limited mobility options—such as persons who don’t own cars, individuals with disabilities, and seniors aging-in-place—are added benefits.
Hyper-localism may be a byproduct of the
current stay-at-home orders and a movement toward increased flexibility in work
arrangements. Employees may choose to continue to work from home even after the
COVID-19 emergency subsides. People are becoming accustomed to walking more and
avoiding places frequented by crowds. An attractive alternative to strategically
planned trips in the SUV to pick up many bags of groceries at the mega-market
may be opportunities for more frequent and convenient visits to a small corner
store within walking distance.
Despite social distancing dominating our lives, we crave human contact. We innately understand the importance of connections with others. Loneliness can take a toll during a pandemic. So, what does our need to maintain bonds with our neighbors and the broader community demand of urban design? Again, I believe hyper-localism and the availability of nearby centers offering the opportunity for frequent (and safe) interaction are keys. Such interaction is necessary to strengthen social cohesion and feelings of belonging. Back in the day, the corner store served as a nexus for impromptu sharing of news and gossip between neighbors. These impromptu interactions helped forge healthy community bonds.
A challenge, of course, is securing the financial
health of independent, mom & pop businesses. One effective direction taken
by several of Vancouver’s historic corner stores is to additionally become chic
coffee shops. The high premiums commanded by their gourmet latte, espresso, and
biscotti offerings help pay the bills. These corner stores continue to serve their
original function but have transformed themselves to become part of the local café
culture. Their small size assures numbers gathering are likewise kept small. The
new owners of the Park Grocery plan to reopen their store along these lines.
Michael Kimmelman of the New York Times recently questioned whether city life will survive the coronavirus:
“The coronavirus undermines our most basic ideas about community and, in particular, urban life. Pandemics prey on this relentlessly. They are anti-urban. They exploit our impulse to congregate. And our response so far—social distancing—not only runs up against our fundamental desires to interact, but also against the way we have built our cities and plazas, subways, and skyscrapers. They are all designed to be occupied and animated collectively. For many urban systems to work properly, density is the goal, not the enemy.”
The solution is to do density right. Community resilience in the event of future pandemics will be a function of several factors. Strengthening local services to cut back on travel so the spread of infections is reduced is a strategy I believe will gain traction. Emphasizing local services is necessary to preserve the most desirable characteristics of vibrant and compact urban developments in the face of arguments in opposition to density. And providing hyper-local, convenient places in which to shop for daily essentials and cross paths with your neighbors is key. This is all about the concept of the “20-minute neighborhood,” which requires giving people the ability to meet most of their everyday needs—including grocery shopping-- within a 20-minute walk of their home. I’m optimistic we may see broader acceptance of the concept and a resurgence of the neighborhood-oriented corner store as a ubiquitous component of resilient communities.
(1) Sunday shopping in Canada was prohibited until the Supreme Court of Canada struck down the Lord’s Day Act in 1985 on the grounds that it contravened the freedom of religion provision in the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms.
(2) An article by former Vancouver planner Sandy James found at the link below inspired me to write this post and recall my own memories about corner stores:
https://pricetags.ca/2020/06/01/post-pandemic-trendsthe-return-of-the-corner-store/
1 comment:
Excellent article.
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