A letter in the News again propagates a well-meaning fallacy: that local businesses, no matter what they do or how well they do it, are superior to chains. “It is clear that one of the most important factors in increasing both coolness and good old fashioned economic success is supporting and cultivating locally owned, independent businesses,” writes Lisa Dugdale of the Washtenaw Living Economy Network. While that’s not exactly wrong, what it leaves out is enough to explain why Ann Arbor was never cool, even before local New Age gift shops started closing.
There are usually three parts to the local-business boosters’ argument:
It’s always better to have local businesses than chains downtown. What local businesses, and what chains are they keeping out? If you could eat scented candles, then maybe we’d have the right mix of businesses downtown.
Local businesses invest more in the community. Fair enough. But in A2, that investment might take the form of supporting the Old Fourth Ward Association’s organized teams of party informants.
It’s worth paying a little more to support local business. But how do you know you’re paying more for well-compensated workers and a diverse downtown, rather than for downtown businesses to take advantage of students without cars?
This isn’t just an idle bit of contrarianism. Failure to recognize that local businesses are not intrinsically cool can lead to areas like Ashley Street. In an oft-quoted passage, Mark Maynard voices concern about those who would make Ypsi cool. Their efforts, he worries, will one day lead to a Starbucks in downtown Ypsi. “Success, to these people, I’m quite sure, isn’t [Henrietta Fahrenheit], it’s the shopping complex which might follow it.” What if success is, instead of a mall and Starbucks, a Downtown Home and Garden and Vintage to Vogue? Is that any cooler?
Also, Jim Rees has a fascinating archive of Ann Arbor photos. Perhaps the most eye-opening are the “lost Ann Arbor” ones. These should pretty much dispel any ideas that A2 was a bohemian paradise before Jimmy John’s and Starbucks moved in. The only thing he’s missing is Bill Knapp’s, the embodiment of lost Ann Arbor.