Hyde Park is about to enter its third month without a fully stocked supermarket, and its seventh week of what was originally expected to be a fortnight with no supermarket open at all. This is enough to make one wonder how the University could have promised that by shutting down the Co-Op Market and forgiving its debt, the University could ensure that the neighborhood would be without a grocery store for no more than two weeks.

The University’s Office of Community Affairs—currently in transition after announcing the departure of Vice President Hank Webber—places no blame on Treasure Island management for the store’s delayed opening. In the Office’s view, the Co-Op and the city government are largely responsible for the delays, but it does seem that the Office’s unreasonable expectations played a role as well. According to Associate Vice President and Director Susan Campbell, Treasure Island has “been working to get it ready, they had to clean the store and they’ve submitted all of their paperwork to the city, so they’re just waiting to receive their license for occupancy, and it should be pretty soon.”

The Co-Op, which hadn’t been fully stocked since shortly after New Year’s Day, occupied the space until the end of January and kept selling what non-perishables they had left until January 20. They had planned to stay open until January 28—a week longer than they actually did.

According to Campbell, the original promise had been that the new grocer would open “within two weeks of the time that the Co-Op vacated the site.” Because of the Co-Op’s unexpectedly early closure, Treasure Island couldn’t move in right away. Even under the University’s expected timeframe, the store would have been closed for three weeks; one for the Co-Op to leave and two for Treasure Island to prepare the store.

Unfortunately, the grocer’s move-in is already pushing five weeks, and they have still not announced a firm opening date. They cleaned and prepared the store as soon as they had control of the space at the start of the month, and brought in inspectors to start the permit process. This put the fate of the store in the hands of the city, which has yet to grant the necessary permits, and hasn’t made any statements to the University about when it might do so.

According to Campbell, “They can’t even stock the shelves until they get that paperwork,” so even once these permits are granted, Treasure Island will not open right away.

When it does open, it might be too optimistic to expect all of the store’s departments—including a sushi bar, a meat aging room and a café with an ice cream counter—to be ready right away. In a statement published online by the Chicago Chronicle, Webber wrote that after it opens, Treasure Island “plans to make major renovations to both the interior and exterior of the store, while maintaining operations throughout the remodeling.”

The poor condition in which the Co-Op left its former 53rd Street branch was an obstacle for the smaller Hyde Park Produce when it replaced the Co-Op in that space last month. According to Campbell, there have been no major problems of this type with the Co-Op’s flagship store: “Any venture that would come in would need to clean and then have to go through inspections with the city health department.”

Where the two-week estimate came from in the first place, though, is unclear. Before the Co-Op had even shut its doors, the University had acknowledged that it may have been overly ambitious: Hank Webber wrote in the mid-January Chronicle statement that “Treasure Island has set a goal of opening the new store before the end of February,” a month after the Co-Op’s expected closure.

Life
Despres, a former alderman who is now 98, has been involved with the Co-Op for the entire duration of its seventy-five-year history. He remembers these earliest days: “One of the earliest developments came when we found out you could buy meat by the Grade. We began buying Grade A and greatly improved our diet and savings. We just didn’t know before then.” When the fledgling store began to falter, Douglas took the initiative to hire a new manager, one Walker Sandbach, a committed co-oper and pacifist who would become a principal motivating force in the institution’s development for decades to come. “The modest store went along for several years… it was getting along pretty well and we loved it.” The store relocated from Cable Court, a small street between Harper and Lake Park that no longer exists, to 57th Street, taking over a former grocery space. The Co-Op’s new location was “spic and span” and it soon became an established store in the neighborhood. The years unfolded. On the page, the life of an institution is reduced to a skeletal narrative, but throughout these years the place was filled with the bustle of people making their lives and discussing the changing world.

In the early ‘50s, during the time of bulldozed jazz bars and urban renewal, the Co-Op took over an old icehouse on Harper between 55th and 56th Streets. Icehouses used to store ice in the winter to sell by wagon during the summer. They engaged an architect to redesign the place, and the ribbon was cut in the spring of 1954. “The icehouse opening was, from our standpoint, sensational. It was so well designed and so deep and so attractive and so crowded with buyers that we felt the Co-Op had reached an important point,” Despres recalls.

Around 1956 the 55th Street shopping center was completed as part of the University’s first wave of urban renewal. They approached all the major chains of the time with the enticement of becoming Hyde Park’s premier grocer, but the only tenant they could find was Walgreen’s. In desperation the University realized the Co-Op could take over the space, the Co-Op did likewise, and the move was made. When the Co-Op’s current, now former, location opened forty-nine years ago, it was actually the largest supermarket in the city.

In the following decades the store’s sales climbed steadily and it became increasingly embedded in the life of the neighborhood, playing host and witness to so many chance meetings and organized events that it gained the centrality and status of an institution. Nobel prize winners, politicians, students, and community members, low-income or not, shopped side-by-side. Since urban renewal didn’t include a community center, the Co-Op became the informal meeting place for half a century of community organizations, providing them with storage, food, and volunteers. In the old days, it featured an in-store babysitter, a play script library, and a home economist who gave nutrition advice and cooking classes. Even in its last decade the Co-Op continued to run several programs and events, including a shut-in delivery service for people unable to do their own shopping, Illinois Link and WIC food stamps, purchasable food coupons for the homeless to avoid panhandling, and annual book and Christmas tree sales. It’s unclear how many of these will continue under the new grocer.

Lastly, there was the ever-divisive ‘co-op’ aspect of the enterprise. Co-operatives are businesses owned and controlled by the people who use their services, with the aim of letting the member-consumer advance his interests and desires in the decision-making process and of letting the whole community manage its own food supply. Applied to a grocery store this largely means that individuals can push for new products to be stocked, that they get dividends in profiting years, and that they have a say in big decisions. While this approach worked relatively well for a number of decades, participation and voter turnout both dwindled during the Co-Op’s final troubled decade. Critics and cynics claimed the co-operative model, as well as the shop, had outlived their times. Proponents still felt it to be a significant and necessary attempt to unify stakeholders – workers, shareholders, customers, and managers of all races – into a community.

Death
The beginning of the Co-Op’s end was its expansion to the now-shuttered 47th Street location. In 2000, the 47th Street commercial lot was developed with the intention of housing a grocery store. Fearing the potential competition, and expecting a development spurt for the surrounding area, a faction on the Co-Op’s board pushed for an expansion, but this involved getting its main supplier, Certified Grocers, to adopt the store’s lease and sub-lease it to the Co-Op. This was met with substantial opposition from some of the members in the form of vocal arguments, a lawsuit, and the election of a slate of anti-expansionists (including two former aldermen) to the Board that attempted (and failed) to persuade the expansionist bloc from moving forward. No one can say some of the captains didn’t see the iceberg looming.

The board went ahead and fatally tied the Co-Op to an outrageously asymmetrical twenty-five-year lease with no escape clause and weighty annual rent of $1 million. These stringent terms placed the business in the vulnerable position of needing all its locations to turn a profit consistently for the next twenty-five years to prevent it from an easy slide into snowballing debt. And slide they did, after the 47th Street store failed to make a profit for five years straight. In 2006 the store was shuttered, and since no replacement was found, it was gutted beyond use while its annual rent continued to drag down the enterprise. (Certified seemed perfectly happy to bleed its fellow co-operative, knowing now that the site was unprofitable but legally guaranteed a handsome inflow from the Co-Op while on indefinite life-support on the University’s dime, or until its dying breath.)

The lease and the general mismanagement took their toll: last year, the Co-Op was consistently four, eventually ten months behind in paying the University, its 55th Street landlord, and 30-60 days behind in paying its suppliers. Despite efforts to increase profits and close these gaps, the Co-Op found itself $3.3-3.9 million in the hole to its various creditors, suppliers, and landlords while making $1 million a year (or less, depending on whose figures you believe) solely from the remaining 55th Street store and losing $1 million on 47th Street’s rent alone. This insufficient profit margin meant the hole was growing deeper by the month, only to be further eroded by compounding interest. The situation was not sustainable, and the store was therefore financially insolvent. Only the University’s leniency was keeping food on the shelves and paychecks in the mail.

The force of these numbers, once released and publicized, helped spread the awareness that something had to give. For many this something had to be the Co-Op, and many, especially students, were glad. By all accounts, the Co-Op had been decaying: its food quality was poor, the service getting poorer, and the financial pressures had driven prices up while forcing it to shed many of its community programs and functions. Its glory days had ended in the ’80s, and now, for many, what was left seemed destined to end as well, on account of its own mismanagement.

By last November, the numbers and the mounting pressure had pushed the board to make a decision. They announced to the Co-Op’s members that there would be an advisory vote on the fate of the store, one they were not bound to follow, and they provided two options. Under Option A, proposed by the UofC, the Co-Op would close, Certified would cancel the lease for a single payment of $1 million, and the University would forgive $1 million in back rent as well as assume the rest (approximately $2 million) of the Co-Op’s debts. This would allow the Co-Op to die with pride, evading a humiliating and time-consuming liquidation process that would leave the community without food for several months. It would also ensure a quick and painless transition, as the 55th Street location would be immediately taken over by one of two grocers the university had been in talks with. Employees would lose their job, with back pay and vacation compensation as well as the opportunity for re-hire, and members would lose their shares.

Option B involved filing for Chapter 11 Bankruptcy, which would allow the Co-Op to reorganize and shed the 47th Street lease. This was dependent on 1) getting a bankruptcy loan to pay their amassed debt 2) Certified agreeing to have the lease bought out for $2.2 million 3) finding $400,000 to pay for going into bankruptcy. A lot of contingencies and an even bigger resulting debt of $5 million, but the Co-Op would then be free to plug on, ideals and all, with the hopes of generating enough profit to eventually climb out of its deepened, though reconfigured hole. Proponents claimed this was feasible in 5 years; skeptics doubted their optimistic profit-predictions and management capacity, or simply longed for a change in the sub-par status quo.
At this juncture we should pause, step back, and consider our constellation of actors, all of whom were active in the unfolding of these events but especially in the vote itself. On the closure side, you had the University, particularly Hank Webber and his office of community relations, 4th Ward Alderman Toni Preckwinkle, Hungry4Change, an organization formed solely for the election, the Chicago Maroon, and Hyde Park Progress, the most prominent and self-styled of a handful of blogs that cover Hyde Park and its development. On the other, the Hyde Park Herald; the everGreen, the Co-Op’s newsletter; and Save The Co-Op (www.savethecoop.com), an ad hoc organization formed in reaction to Hungry4Change. In the middle was the board, split in its support, and the wider pool of members being tugged at from all sides and no doubt tugging at each other. Generally, the spectrum of opinion was weighted with the younger and university-affiliated preferring A, with the opposite demographic for B. These sides were surprisingly conscious of themselves and of their opponents, and reveal a lot about the current fault lines in Hyde Park politics, especially over issues of development.

The ensuing information war raged in meetings, mailboxes, bulletin boards, and on the internet. Various interpretations of the situation, including of the relative responsibility of the involved parties, were pushed around, along with varying assessments of the merits and possibilities of each option. There was intense cross-analysis of arguments, actions, and strategies. Groups on both sides accused each other of framing selectively the Co-Op’s circumstances or of outright distorting facts. The Herald was accused of yellow journalism, blatant spin, and obstructionism, while the everGreen itself claimed that Hungry4Change was part of an elaborate and well-funded University campaign of misinformation, including PR consultants, full page ads in the Maroon, a website, glossy pamphlets, mass mailings, and a phone campaign. In some readings the University was a gentrifying monolith, in others a generous landlord with the larger community’s interests at heart. Conspiracy theories abounded and charges of corruption and collusion between the University and the alderman were aired at board meetings.

Eventually, Option B fell through because the bank wasn’t willing to risk giving the Co-Op the necessary bankruptcy loan. The option was changed to getting a regular commercial loan for the same amount, and pushing forward without going through bankruptcy procedure, which would’ve required the assent of the University and, most improbable of all, Certified’s willing acceptance of a reduced sum of $1 million for the lease. Most voters probably weren’t even aware of the switch.

The vote helped settle things. Option A – 3,200; Option B – 2,049, 61 percent to 39 percent. All parties accepted the legitimacy of the vote. In the end, democracy killed the democratic institution.

Funeral
Last Sunday the Co-Op went out in style with a New Orleans-style jazz funeral. The aisles were barren save for a few idle cans that had been brought together for funeral-goers to peck at. The band and the crowd of older folks came together in the derelict produce section, now a linoleum ghost of its former green self. Speech-givers gave speeches between bright rhythmic numbers, outlining the Co-Op’s trajectory and accomplishments, underlining the sentiment that something irrecoverable was being lost, and trying to create as a sense of closure.
“The purpose of our meeting is to console each other,” Mr Despres declared defiantly as he looked out into the assembled crowd. “No chain store no matter how attractive in the beginning can possibly do for the community…what we did for ourselves.”

The mood was an uneasy mix of nostalgia and celebration. There was little embittered feeling, for the most part. A woman passed out fliers confirming the existence of some final holdouts, a contingent of the Save the Co-Op group was presently reviewing the legality of the University’s actions and plotting some final, quixotic counterattack. At one point, when those assembled called out the things they had liked best about the store, it struck me that a huge body of shared experience was being voiced in public for the last time. The band then lead the procession through the barren aisles and out into the frozen afternoon.

On the way out:
 “Wooo-eee it’s been an exciting day!”

“You think so?”

“Yeah… bittersweet.”

Special thanks to Hallie Trauger for assistance reporting this article.

On a day so cold that polar bears reportedly stayed in their dens at the Lincoln Park Zoo, this investigative reporter took the most perilous shopping trip in recent memory to Treasure Island’s Wells Street location on the North Side to find out. Just as I was sure my extremities would snap off, I caught sight of the word “Bonjour” carved into the sidewalk. This was the first sign of Treasure Island, whose motto, taken from the praises of Julia Child, reads “The most European supermarket in America.” (If the slogan seems a tad ridiculous, just think back to “A Love Affair with Wonderful Foods.”)

How European is Treasure Island? Enough to have the full line of Walkers Shortbread products, but none of Tunnocks’. Enough to carry Tetley tea, but not Jaffa Cakes. Internationally-inclined shelves, marked with floor tiles reading “German,” “Greek,” and “Italian,” stock a decent selection of pasta, tea biscuits, and even Swedish pancake mix.

You won’t have to order your Easy Cheese from a catalogue, though. Treasure Island carries all the Yank brands you’re used to—the organization of the store just promotes an Old World façade. While boxes of San Pellegrino figure into a prominent display, shelves of American-brand sodas are relegated to an alcove with nothing but a pale neon “Pop Shop” sign to hint at their presence. For the most part, you’ll only find the unabashedly American products in the innermost aisles. Some notable exceptions do occur—pouches of duck liver mousse with cognac, for example, are stocked right next to the Lunchables meal boxes.

Most critics of the Co-Op complained of two things: bad food and bad prices. Treasure Island will solve half the problem. While you’ll spend about as much there as you did at the Co-Op, you’ll get a better bite for your buck. The variety and quality of food made in the store is certainly a step up. The deli showed off steaming pots of stew and enormous plates of grape leaves, caviar spread, and crab meat salad. A glass case displaying “Mama K’s” homemade Greek pastries featured reasonably priced butter cookies and baklava. As for the produce—well, it’s about as healthy as you could expect in the dead of January.

More than it is European, Robert Louis Stevenson, or anything else, Treasure Island is a store for cooks—or at least it sells itself that way. The check-out counters even stock issues of Saveur, Bon Apetit, and Cooks Illustrated interspersed with Cosmo and People. If you thought the Co-Op had too few bottled spices or satchels of dried mushrooms, you’ll warm to Treasure Island in no time. A counter stocked with jars full of fifteen varieties of fresh olives introduced me to the olive bar concept. Samples are everywhere you look, too—I could have eaten my bus fare’s worth of ten different cheeses, spinach dip, chicken salsa, and balsamic cocoa syrup.

Organic food lovers will continue to fork over good money for their forkfuls, but the occasional item will come cheaper. While gluten-free cake and brownie mixes run at about $6 a bag, prices are reduced on Morningstar Farms products, and organic milk comes over a dollar less per gallon than it did at the Co-Op. I marveled over organic eggs at $3.39 a dozen as “Beat It” played over the PA.

For the broke college crowd, the same items you got by on at the Co-Op will continue to sustain you when Treasure Island takes over. The sanctity of two-for-$5 boxes of cereal, 65-cent packs of tortilla, and $1.49 loaves of bread remains untouched. The liquor section contains as many bottles as the average liquor store, and a decent number of wine bottles recommended either by The Wine Advocate or resident expert “Tracy” were in the $9-12 range.

Is it worth paying so much attention to the finer points of a grocery store? While better goods don’t necessarily translate to a flourishing community, Treasure Island will be the place where most of Hyde Park will buy its food, so its character and quality certainly count for something. Thankfully, there’s reason to hope the new store will have more of these things than the Co-Op did.

In case your curiosity hasn’t already compelled you to take a look at what has been going on in the 53rd Street Co-op’s former location in Kimbark Plaza, it has been the projected location for Hyde Park’s beloved Hyde Park Produce. For many of the produce store’s loyal customers, these past few months have been characterized by an absence of a few of the store’s familiar faces that have provided them with quality produce for the past thirteen years—most recognizably Mr. “Yo-Yo” Damico—whose friendliness and cheerful demeanor are just as inseparable from the Hyde Park Produce shopping experience as his signature cigar is from his smile.

Joining Yo-Yo in the business are his son Larry Damico and nephew Ron Thomas, all of whom are native to Chicago’s South Side. When a joint-ownership of the produce store began only thirteen years ago between Yo-Yo and his son, by no means were they unfamiliar with the Hyde Park community, or, rather, by no means was the Hyde Park community unfamiliar with them. Customers of Mr. G.’s 53rd St Co-op grocery store had been eating Yo-Yo’s produce for twenty-five years before they took up the small store a few doors down, and judging by the immense array of fresh fruits and vegetables available within the store’s positive atmosphere, the community knew that when it came to eating well they were well taken care of.

Although produce has occupied the forefront of the family’s expertise over the years, the little store sought to provide much more to its customers. For years they had been considering an expansion but had been waiting for the opportune time to take action. Fortunately their customers’ loyalty and the closing down of the 53rd St Co-op provided the perfect means for allowing this group of wholesalers to realize their dream of having the necessary space for all the inventory they’d truly enjoy providing. HPP had come full circle, literally, ending up where it had started as a shelf-presence so many years ago. “The angle of the store is to be more green. We’ll probably end up being about forty-percent organic,” says Larry, who began to carry organic produce in Hyde Park Produce about six years ago after having seen first-hand the improved quality and increased affordability of organic produce. The organic principle is not merely confined to produce, but extends to all of the packaged meat that they plan on adding to their inventory, which includes fish, will also boast of its organic origin. Hyde Park Produce will also provide separate sections for goods like dairy, frozen foods, and non-perishable goods alongside a produce playground that alone will rival the size of the former store. “We believe the neighborhood deserves this,” Larry adds.

Reciprocating Hyde Park Produce’s affection for the community, many eager customers have increasingly become anxious to experience the new space. Curiosity has pushed many passers-by to try to sneak a peek into the store through the spaces in-between the sheets of produce ads. As the renovation of the space nears completion, Ron sees no problem in inviting these passers-by inside (when time allows, of course), which illustrates that although the produce store will be attracting a larger consumer audience, loyal customers can still expect to find the same hospitality that animated the former store, but in a more relaxed and spacious environment. For this business, customers really do come first.

It’s precisely because the customers come first that the owners have pushed opening day from last August to the 23rd of this January, and for those who had seen the place under previous ownership, the delay is understandable. Built in the 60s, the inside of the space had run-down while its prices had gone up, and yet locals had no choice but to shop there unless they wanted to walk to 55th Street or go vegan and live off of Hyde Park Produce. “We gutted the place,” adds Larry, “The only thing that was left was the ductwork.”

Since Hyde Park Produce’s overhaul of the space, walking inside is comparable to stepping into an unimaginable world, and once the place is open to the public, its attention to food quality in addition to its overall appearance will convince everyone in Hyde Park that a grocery store can simultaneously do business in the area and satisfy its residents. Imagine eating the same Hyde Park Produce guacamole prepared in a refrigerated back room which had been inspired by a desire to make it taste even better than before, or deli items aside, or being able to push around a shopping cart and actually allowing your eyes to pick out more than your arms themselves can hold. This may sound like a Stepford Wives fantasy, but it’s meaningful for those who routinely maneuver through HPP’s cramped maze. Without a doubt, the appearance, the technology, and the atmosphere of the newest addition to the Hyde Park community is enough to convince the masses that grocery shopping will be a legitimate use of a sick day from work or class this upcoming Wednesday.

It sounds damn schmaltzy, but although very appreciative of all of the compliments they have received on the look of the new store, Yo-Yo, Larry, and Ron know that its looks are only partially representative of their accomplishment. Yo-Yo, Larry, and Ron’s new store is more than just a finished project; it is a dream which we have all been invited to experience. When asked whether he ever had any doubts along the way, Larry admitted that there was never any doubt about what they were doing, and that it was difficult to remain patient while they made sure everything was completed just as it ought to be. Concerning the store’s fast-approaching grand opening, the Hyde Park Produce team could not be more enthusiastic. After having spent his entire day at work on the new store, Ron added, “I’ve been working hard all my life. I want to have fun now. We want to have fun with this.” Judging by the gleaming new store and the dedication of the people behind it, they won’t be the only ones enjoying it.