alt
Lake residents
are still searching for
the Milagro Beanfield. Four years after Park
Ivy Café officially
closed, ceasing its production of such vegetarian-friendly
fare as the salad of infamous title, people
still lament the loss of one of Utah’s
few meat-free zones. The restaurant once occupied
a space in the eclectic 9th and 9th District
at 900 South and 900 East, an area recognized
as a haven for those seeking alternatives not
only for their diets, but also for creative
and intellectual nourishment. Now people are
going hungry.
Park Ivy’s failure was just
a hint of things to come. After a brief boom
in the economy, the district is beginning to
lose its flair. While businesses such as Cahoots — a
novelty and gift shop and tanning salon — remain
unfazed by the current transformation, the majority
are wary of defeat. Corporate know-how is trumping
off-beat innovation, and the resulting fade in
character highlights a troublesome trend — the
decentralization of independent art.
The most
notable change is the recent absence of Orion’s Music, a shop
whose brief run unfolded in the shadow of the
late, great Salt City CDs. The legendary house
of indie pleasure relocated to Indianapolis in
order to provide owner Rick Zeigler’s son
with a better education. Now loyal customers
will have to travel approximately 1,520 miles
to reach Zeigler’s new musical mecca, Indy
CD and Vinyl — or they could simply visit
its successor just a quick drive from the original,
type-casted locale.
Store owner
Andy Fletcher initially purchased the space
at 9th and 9th in order to preserve the area’s alternative edge and
though he fought to stick around, financial woes
kept his dream from materializing. Orion’s
move to Sugar House should provide it with an
opportunity to shape a distinct identity, building
a fresh clientele disinclined to draw comparisons
with the glory days of yesteryear.
However,
Orion’s potential
success comes with a high price. Sure, you can
still pick up the latest release by Air or special-order
a rare David Bowie EP. You can also still take
in a foreign film at a theater not associated
with the suffix “plex.” Yet these
pursuits will require a couple of trips across
town. Not only is the extra mileage inconvenient,
it’s stretching the fibers of a tight-knit
community.
When the
Salt Lake Film Society opened six new screens
in downtown’s Broadway
Centre in November 2002, the deal’s effect
on 9th and 9th’s Tower Theatre raised legitimate
concerns. Would people bypass the decaying original
for a sleek new model? If so, what would it take
to revitalize the Tower’s appeal?
Brooke Harper,
executive director for the Salt Lake Film Society,
is torn between a desire to preserve tradition
and a need to widely showcase independent film. “We’re
playing more film overall, but we’re playing
more at the Broadway due to its higher screen
ratio,” Harper says. The jump in numbers
almost overrides sentimental attachment, but
the organization isn’t ready to turn its
back on history. Unfortunately, greed further
complicates the battle. Next January marks the
end of the Tower’s lease — and the
possible end of an era.
Although
the theater has encountered obstacles in the
past — it overcame temporary
closure in the 1980s and again in the late ’90s,
only to reopen as a stronger, revitalized art-house
force — funds are simply running out.
“I think that what the business
owners want and what the landlords want are two
different things,” Harper says. “We
would really love to see the Tower stay at 9th
and 9th, but we don’t own the building
and that creates limits to how much we can do.” If
both sides don’t come to an agreement,
the legendary art house and its impressive video
collection will be forced to relocate. In its
wake would stand another abandoned storefront
joining Park Ivy, Orion’s, Chameleon Artwear
and Interior Motives in a string of lost legacies.
Tom Cordova,
owner of Great Harvest Bread Company, isn’t exactly surprised
by the changing climate. “When we first
moved here, we were a little ahead of the curve
in terms of trend and demographics,” he
says, noting how the area was decidedly less
popular in 1989. Cordova says that 1100 East
was the cutoff point for wealthier residents.
Anything below the street risked decreased customer
traffic. However, over time, he has witnessed
younger and more affluent couples moving to homes
as far away as 500 East.
Six years ago, few would have
predicted that a Starbucks could possibly occupy
the same block as Mutual Beauty Supply.
The old,
stately emporium had been specializing in pomades
and cold cream for as long as anyone could
recall. Yet the corporate kings of coffee managed
to secure a corner spot, and though critics
predicted imminent closure, business is booming. “Five years ago, there
was a huge turnover of property,” Cordova
says. As a result, rent has skyrocketed.
Harper notes
that many directly affected by the inflation
are pointing fingers at one particular landlord. “The rent in
Dan Colangelo’s space is almost double
that of those located in Sugar House or downtown,” she
says. Even Colangelo, also owner of Contender
Bicycle, however, is upset about the situation,
blaming the city for neglecting the district’s
needs.
The only businesses that can afford such exurbanite
prices are chain-store operations such as Starbucks
and Great Clips. The management of Guru’s,
a corporately owned nonprofit organization, made the mistake of assuming the
power and privilege of those large entities. The attractive eatery is currently
affixed with an “Amended Notice of Seizure,” dated Jan. 23, 2004.
The restaurant, confiscated by the government for nonpayment of taxes and interest
due, has plans to reopen under new management, but its future remains precarious.
“Guru’s was doomed
from the get-go,” Cordova says. “It
was out to conquer the world right off the bat.
It spent a lot of money right out of the gate,
and it’s going to be hard to make that
up.”
Of course,
not everyone is falling apart. “Our business is doing very well,” Cahoots’ employee
Brandon Oyler says. “We haven’t been
affected at all.” Wasabi Sushi is also
riding a wave of enduring success. The popular
restaurant, once relegated to a cramped corner
in an alley off of 900 South, has collected enough
funds to move to a roomier space less than a
block from the original location. Even the Coffee
Garden, which has been struggling with the state
over smoking ordinances, remains a favorite spot
for superior lattés, people-watching and
general wasting-of-time.
There is
hope for rejuvenation, but it will take more
than continued patronage to independent establishments
now scattered about town. Word on the street
says that time has come for new legislation — are
you ready for a revolution?
jamie@red-mag.com |