Boxes Big and Small

#218, July 18, 2007

The banner said it was the first day for the weeknight Farmer’s market, but Walnut Park appeared empty. Bummer, I thought, as I coasted past the cars queued up at the First and D light. Farmer’s Markets are part of The Solution: locally grown food and goods, small businesses, community mingling and networking.

But my disappointment vanished when I heard the music, smelled the barbeque, and saw the crowd bulging out of Second Street. New location! I glided up to the southeast corner of the new Theater Square and got into my cyclist-pedestrian hybrid position… this, by the way, is where I keep my butt off the seat, my left foot on the left pedal and my right foot “walking’ on the ground. It lets me move slowly, stop stably, and take up the least amount of space. Centered over my bike, it’s great for moving safely through a crowd. And another bicycling point: had I been in a car, I would have driven on by, not wanting the commute-home bother of finding a parking place. Hardcore urban cyclists never bypass an opportunity to stop and smell the flowers.

Or eat the strawberries, as the case may be. Fresh-picked in Two Rock, chomped down like sweet succulent red candy. Hey, there’s Roadie Dave, and Matt and LaRee. Watch out for my handlebars, Matt! We shoot the breeze, discuss plans for writing the next chapter in the Lafferty saga, then part. I chat with Beth, fresh out of the latest Harry Potter adventure. The music in the brand-new courtyard is rare and fine, a pair of electric guitarists with a hefty collection of effects pedals and ethereal riffs. George strolls by; we talk about our daughters and our recent vacations. I see Robert and Elaine “Remax” Ramirez (worthy of full ID, as they are co-sponsors of this new Farmer’s Market), and invite Robert to discuss this year’s Spooky Chicken Halloween Ball at the next Phoenix Theater board meeting. A brief look at the face fountain and the candy shop, then I’m back on the road home, a mere twenty minutes after my foot first touched the street.

Welcome to Petaluma’s marvelous new downtown. The scale is human, and pedestrian friendly. It invites dawdling, and conversation. Street markets like this are as old as human civilization, and they survive because humans are social animals. The interactions in such a place are both practical and soul-nourishing. I’m calling it the “small box” experience, in contrast to the hurried, automobile-centric realm of the big box strip malls. It’s worth pondering as the CIty Council considers approval of some big box developments in other parts of town. What might those stores bring to Petaluma, and what might they take away?

It’s shades of gray. I won’t forget how the old Yardbirds stiffed my requests for a small donation for the McNear Park Community Garden, while Home Depot came though without a hassle. Yet it’s well documented that the profits from the national chains leave town, whereas those from locally owned businesses stick around for the “multiplier” effect. It’s also true that the big boxes are not the sales tax cash cows that conventional wisdom suggests. Just look at Rohnert Park’s finances, so frequently running red. My old hometown of Gilroy, a city that could claim the crown for the most big-box chainstore outlet strip malls in the known universe, is struggling to revive its ghostowned downtown. The Gilroy development strategy appears to be no better at generating true community health than the crystal meth high energy diet plan.

In my opinion, there are worse stores than Target (Walmart) and better stores (Costco). If we are going to have a Target, please let’s not replicate the auto-centric stripmall configurations. The Regency design at the very least needs to accommodate, if not be fully organized around, the pedestrian overpass. Former Council member David Keller has a good idea: why not consider the Kenilworth site in a comprehensive plan that includes the Washington Corridor, Kenilworth, and the Fairgrounds? I’ll have more to say about this, and the big box debate, in a future column.