Previously, on LOCAL BLOG COMMUNITY BULLETIN BOARD…

Step 1 involved parking. Step 2 involves “local business-itis,” in which the town’s characteristics, demographics, and economics turn into a bias against a healthy dose of capitalism. Or is it a defense of Menlo Park’s character against corporate domination?

Exhibit A is the abandoned Chili’s on El Camino Real, one block south of the mouth of Santa Cruz Ave. and downtown. Chili’s resided at the profitable corner of a complex, which houses a Big 5 Sporting Goods, a Staples, an optometry office, a Verizon store, and a revolving door of take-out shops. The complex, though, is seated along this highly-trafficked juncture backwards. The side facing El Camino Real, the busiest street in the mid peninsula, has no visible entrances to the complex. Only a single tunnel cuts through the middle, and the homeless tend to shelter here from the weather. The rear side, where all the entrances are, faces a parking lot and the train tracks, although the actual station is a few blocks north. The entire complex looks as though the building twisted during construction to look behind its back but got stuck in place. Only Chili’s had a identifiable storefront; the rest of the stores had, at best, a neon sign and a display window and, at worst, a plastic banner nailed to the two-story brick facade. To call it a strip mall would be generous.

The Chili’s on the corner simply chose not to renew its rent. I spoke to the manager during the last week of service (as one of the few reasonably priced restaurants in Menlo Park, we gave them some business over the years). The manager said that business was not bad, but not good. They got a lot of family business, and those who could not afford to eat at Marche with their three kids and the rest of the Little League team found refuge at Chili’s. The reason they left was the rent. For such an odd location, the rent was exorbitant. There was little opportunity for growth, and it was a simple decision of cost. This decision is made by the renting residents of Menlo Park, Atherton, Palo Alto, and surrounding areas. Rent in this area is outrageous. Here the real estate market chokes the life out of the middle-class, and those that stay find their checking accounts punished. Chili’s simply decided not to take any further punishment.

After Chili’s left, a banner proclaiming “For Rent!” appeared where the trademark red pepper once hung. The banner stayed up for several months, until it became clear that no one wanted the spot. The only effect of the banner was to make the rest of the complex appear abandoned. When a suitor, BevMo, finally came, the were allowed to move into the vacant spot by the narrowest of margins. The corner spot stood vacant for more than four hundred generating not a single cent of revenue for anyone. By the time BevMo is built, people are hired, and tens of thousands of tax dollars begin rolling in, this spot at the intersection of a vital artery and the downtown area will have likely been empty for two years.

The arrogance of some residents, as well as their planning commissioners and representatives, became clear during BevMo’s struggle to gain entrance. The Almanac gives a clear account of the battle:

Commissioners Kirsten Keith and Katie Ferrick voted against the permit on grounds that Menlo Park didn’t need another liquor store, and the city should protect independent local businesses. Vice Chair Vincent Bressler also opposed the action, suggesting that denying the use permit could force the building’s owner to remodel the strip mall.

“For heaven’s sake, what was in there was Chilis. If anything, BevMo is a step up,” responded Commissioner Henry Riggs, who described the vacant space as “a peculiar building in a peculiar situation.”

The local businesses mentioned here are several upscale grocery stores and wine markets. These stores jealously guard their supremacy over the yuppie vino market of Menlo Park. A recent combatant, GC’s, had the misfortune of entering the fray in 2008 in the midst of a recession; they lasted less than two years. Yet BevMo provides a different challenge. The infrastructure and buying power of BevMo certainly dwarfs Draeger’s or Beltramos. According to BevMo, 1,600 residents are BevMo card carriers. While the local stores can certainly claim that the shadow of a corporate Goliath looms above, it is difficult to sympathize when David is selling gourmet tomatoes flown in from Italy. The local merchants are powerful figures in this small town, and their influence on the council is manifest in the margin of the vote. The Almanac article’s comments reflects the divisiveness.

All the hubbub raises an interesting question: how far does a city go, how much does it sacrifice, to maintain “character?” Draeger’s and the like are institutions that have contributed immensely to Menlo Park. To what extent does that entitle them to be shielded from competition, even at the cost of another empty storefront? Stretching south of the strip mall is half a mile of abandoned car dealerships and broken gravel punctuated by an unassailable Tesla dealership. Much sentiment against threats on local institutions come from long-term residents. They rail against change as a threat to the heritage of Menlo Park. Those that invite reform seek to keep the city economically viable. The latter position is complicated by the largely silent bloc of students and young professionals living in Menlo Park. As John has pointed out, young people come but do not stay. One commenter in the Almanac suggested (perhaps only half-jokingly) that Menlo Park construct an all-you-can-eat buffet on an abandoned car lot to feed all these young adults.

In all seriousness, there is a plan in place to radically alter the downtown area. With the audacity of the plan comes much hand-wringing, and much consternation over the concern of town character, legacy, and heritage. The coming confrontation over the Visioning of Menlo Park reveals much of the town’s history and determines much of the town’s fate.

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