When I lived on the North Side, I would frequently pass by a storefront that always seemed to be home to a different business. This wasn’t particularly unusual. After all, every community has one of these “revolving door” spaces. One month it’s a restaurant, the next it’s a law office, then it’s a coffee shop, and so on. So, when I saw a news story recently about a new business moving into the storefront in my old neighborhood, I didn’t think much of it until I read a description of the space:
“After failing to thrive as Wolcott’s, Troquet or the short-lived Mangal, the storefront at 1834 W. Montrose Ave. has gained something of a reputation for being cursed.”
Whoa. “Cursed” seems a bit hyperbolic. True, we are talking about a space that I would say has housed at least five different businesses since I lived there, which dates back to 2005. But when you think about it, isn’t this exactly what is supposed to happen? A business moves in, it closes, and another comes in right on its heels. That’s how the market works.
What’s missing from this story is the narrative about this particular stretch of Montrose Avenue. It is a thriving place with a healthy mix of day-to-day businesses, such as a convenience store and a salon, and specialty businesses, such as boutiques and bars. Restaurants set up sidewalk cafes, foot traffic is plentiful — thanks in part to the nearby Brown Line station — and the on-street parking spaces are constantly turning over. The street runs through a neighborhood of single-family homes, condos and apartments, and there are even plans to build a new, parking-light apartment building right in the thick of all this activity. All of these housing options in close proximity put additional feet on the street.
By all appearances, this is one of the most healthy streets I’ve seen. The fact that it’s so healthy actually helps ensure that while the storefront in question might change hands frequently, it will never be vacant for long. And its small size is a virtue. This is a perfect location for a startup business that can upgrade to a larger space as it becomes more successful.
Contrast this part of Ravenswood with a place like 95th Street or Western Avenue in Beverly and Morgan Park. Both 95th and Western are dotted with long-empty storefronts, vacant sites, surface parking lots and hulking relics like the former Borders building and the Chesterfield Federal Savings/MidAmerica/National City bank. These streets — or stroads, I should say — contain little in the way of mixed-use buildings (business on the ground, residence above) and are surrounded almost exclusively by lower-density neighborhoods of single family homes. Little by little, roadways that once carried pedestrians, streetcars/buses, automobiles and bicycles were turned over cars, which today dominate our main streets.
What we thought would help the neighborhood thrive is slowly killing it. For the past half-century or more, we’ve sought vehicle traffic as a way to bring people to the neighborhood and shop at our stores, but we never stopped to think what would happen when all those drivers found a more convenient place to go. In a healthy community, there is no reason for a building to stay vacant for five years like Borders. There is no reason the sidewalks of the main streets should be virtually empty at all times of day. There is no reason to give tax increment financing money to private businesses to build drive-thrus and parking lots. In fact, there is no reason to give incentives to any business in a healthy community. A healthy community is self-sustaining.
No building or storefront is “cursed,” least of all one that is located on such a successful street like Montrose. The places that truly are doomed are the ones that fail to recognize flawed development patterns or refuse to adjust.