The Cabrini-Green Comment and the Ramsey Hill Association Testimony at the Heritage Preservation Commission

[The rejected proposal that reminded a Commissioner of Cabrini-Green in Chicago.]

Intrigued by the reporting in the Villager of the March 9th Heritage Preservation Commission meeting, the one where a demolition request for a 1920s auto garage -- a.k.a., according to the Commission, "an elegant rectangle with a lot of potential, a “nondescript building, [that] has historic merit [and] its own style without being overly stylish", and one that is "simple [and] utilitarian but [that] has some elegant brick detailing to it that goes beyond ordinary" -- was denied.

[The "elegant rectangle" garage in question.]

Intrigued, I requested the recording of the March 9th meeting and listened to it. I was particularly interested in the Cabrini-Green remark, which seemed at the time, and still today, absurd.

When I listened to the actual comment, it seems fairly innocent, if deeply out-of-touch. Here is the remark, made by Commissioner Barbara Bezat:

“The massing seems much bigger than surrounding structures, standard Saint Paul streetcorner stores. What seems glaring from the renderings are the top hat. It really reminds me of Cabrini-Green, only shorter. I don’t know if you… but its quite visible even from your own drawings and particularly given you’ve clad it in the light-colored siding, the fiber cement. It stands out as, a not fitting sort of thing. And if i would get to play with the design, I would set the thing back, and turn it in the other direction, so it doesn’t it isn’t such an overbearing thing at the top.”

At the very least, invoking a famous, now-demolished Chicago public housing project, even for architectural purposes, is tone-deaf given the history of race and public housing in America. It's also worth pointing out that this project is right on the edge of historic Rondo, where the Selby Avenue racial sundown line existed in Saint Paul.

The other thing mentioned in the Villager article was how, at the end of the meeting, there was some unsolicited testimony by Mason Riddle, Heritage Preservation Chair of the Ramsey Hill Association. According to the Villager anyway, this testimony was out of place given that the public hearing had already been closed by this point in the meeting.

HPC Chair: Any old business? New business? 

Mason Riddle: Can I say something? 

HPC: Sure 

Riddle: Hi I’m Mason Riddle. I’ve spoken to you before. I’m the heritage preservation chair for Ramsey Hill Association.

Until just a very few years ago, I used to drive a 1993 Mercedes, and on perhaps… it was an E320…  and on perhaps the worst day in January, in terms of temperature and ice and blizzards and da da da da, I’m at Mississippi Market thinking I’m going to park my car, and the axle breaks. And so my car completely dominated one whole aisle of the Mississippi Market, so nobody could get in or out. And this lasted for about four hours. 

My point is that I went across the street to the garage. It was January of 2015. They had tow trucks and things, and I said “can you come over here and just get my car across the street so other people can drive? And they said “no.” So they were open til at least then. 

I agree with your decision as [to the garage] not being demolished. I just respected all the comments here, and I’ll pass that on at our next board meeting. 

With the other development at Selby Avenue, I agreed with most of your comments. I’m not, I don’t have that packet. I’m less familiar with some of those details. But I would like to reinforce the point that there is that, let’s say, a massing height drift that goes on. Because every new building is just 8 feet taller than the one before it. 

And if you drive… if you’re very familiar with Lyndale Avenue between Franklin and Lake Street? What has happened there with all of these 6-, 8-, 10-story apartments that are… 

I used to once upon a time patron The CC Club…  

HPC member: Probably the CC Tap! 

[The Aberdeen, at Western and Marshall.]

Riddle: [laughs] … and the wonderful hardware store that used to be across the street from it is now 8-story building. These buildings are all so generic, they look so much alike. I’m just saying I really think this height issue needs to be looked at very seriously. And I am for large windows because of daylight, and i’m very conscious of this. I live on Holly Avenue, 3-4 blocks from all of this activity. And I know how horrible it is to drive down Selby in the wintertime, not that the height of the building is going to to improve driving down Selby.  

I just think [of] everything closing in, if the building is too tall. And lastly, there’s one other building that is on my little device here. I'm trying to find the name of it, at Western and Marshall. Condos that were built. People started moving in 2004, 2005. They are horseshoe shaped. it starts with a C. It’s all brick and the 5th floor of it is stepped back a bit. That’s the other building in the hood that is slightly higher.  

HPC: The Aberdeen.  

Riddle: Yes. [laughs] As I said, it starts with a C. 

I think that’s all I have to say. I think we should wait a little bit longer on the demolition of the garage, and a point which didn’t come up here at all, as one of the most environmentally lousy things is the demolition of buildings, that and just flying and airplanes. They are the two bad things.

Again, nothing really damning here, except for the factual errors [see below] and a healthy dose of melodrama. 

I'm sure the folks involved in this discussion members are nice and care, as I do, about Saint Paul history. But the way the conversation proceeded here captures a general disregard for facts and a general dislike of new housing that, during a prolonged harmful housing shortage, seems misguided.

[All the new apartment buildings on Lyndale, between Franklin Avenue and Lake Street; aesthetics aside, they are four, five, and six stories tall.]

Announcing the Lamppost Palette of Saint Paul Colorways

As a local sidewalk blogger, the most common request I get is this:

"Bill, when are you going to curate a set of paint colors based on Saint Paul lampposts?"

[Most of these emails are lamppost-related.]

It's gotten so bad that I have had emails with the word "swatch" in them automatically redirected into my Spam folder for years now, until I began obsessing over the latest retro Swatch watch designs and had to undo the filter. And immediately, the deluge of requests for lamppost paints began again in earnest.

Well, I'm finally listening to the voice of the people.

ANNOUNCING THE 2018 LAMPPOST LINE OF ARTISANALLY CURATED COLORWAYS, PRESENTED BY SAINT PAUL

Based on meticulous sampling and painstaking collecting of actual boulevard lampposts photographs in Saint Paul, Minnesota, I have curated this professional artisanally labelled set of color swatches for you!

Complex and contemplative, these colorways are curated to cultivate neighborhood pride. They are designed to foster enlightened states in both interior or exterior contexts. Use them for your kitchen, bath, three-season porch, or backyard light fixtures.

You can even have your bicycle custom painted with shades of different lampposts from individually curated Saint Paul neighborhoods.  Or your hybrid SUV / art-car if you prefer.

From this point forward, the world of LAMPPOSTS™ is your oyster.

Onward!

[See also: all the pics of lampposts.]

Loss of a Scene as the Triple Rock Social Club Closes Down

There’s a reciprocal relationship between people and a place that, every once in a while, come together to create a great cultural scene. Every once in a while, the people and the place fit each other so well, it's seamless.

Both sides of the relationship are vital. You need the people: the fashion, the vibe, the crowd, the affect, the regulars, the giant bouncer that remains on his stool for a decade.

But you also need the spaces where the people can feel at home and flourish. Without the lived-in walls, the room, the booths, the bar, and the sidewalk on the corner where people smoke and stare at the dull freeway, what do you have? What is a player without a stage?

Sometimes the place and the people come together in harmony, each seems like it was made for the other, and the people and the place become almost interchangeable. That’s what the Triple Rock Social Club was like, and the loss of the Cedar Avenue bar and venue on the fringe of West Bank seems right now like it’ll displace an entire scene.

I made it over there for one last show a little while ago, to see a young rock band from L.A. called Girl Pool. The whole place was full of Radio K twenty-somethings, which is perfect, because that’s how old I was when I formed some of my favorite memories of the Triple Rock.

For example, the Triple Rock bar used to have a great juke box by the back door, the old-school kind with buttons and labels full of punk songs. I didn’t know anything about punk, but I remember really liking the scene inside the bar. So much so that I once took fifty of my precious cents over to the juke box and searched around for a song. Not knowing anything, choosing purely by the names, when I saw “The Descendents — I Like Food” I thought, that’s the one!

I hit the buttons and as the song started to play, sat down on the bar with a smile on my face and turned to my friends to listen.



The song turned out to be 15 seconds long, and was over before I could say anything. I got punked!

Speaking of food, the Triple Rock was unique in the Twin Cities for having the weirdest mix of crusty-punk-vibe yet-often-meat-laden huge-portion’d staple food. The kitchen at the place was a tiny hole in the wall by the bathroom, and I have no idea how they got so much food out of there.

The Triple Rock was famous for their po’boys, which were these mammoth vehicles for potatoes and were nothing like a New Orleans po’boy. A half order was enough for two people, and eating a full "sandwich" would literally put you on your back for 24 hours. It was the kind of food that you’d want after a week of camping. Their poutine was the same way, and their $7 happy hour burger special was an amazing deal.

The place was vegetarian friendly, and yet I remember when they had a brief foray into an “all-you-can-eat bacon night,” where if you sat down the would keep bringing you baskets of the world’s worst bacon until you cried “uncle” and screamed for it all to end. They had huge starchy breakfasts on weekends, which along with a bloody mary, would cure any possible hangover.

There was nothing like it.

[Girl Pool.]

Once you walked out of the old bar and into the back, the music space seemed like a paradise for punk, metal, and rock music. It’s as if someone gave a punk nerd permission to design their ideal world, and then the fanciful fever dream came true.

The entire room was black, and large noise-deadening cloth things hung on the wall that served to make the room great for music while also allowing unruly musicians to bounce off them without fear of injury. The bowl in front of the stage was depressed, and ringed with little ledges, and in the back the aloof could loiter by the bar and merch table. The place was perfectly designed, and there’s not another stage in town with better sight lines or acoustics.

[Not only does the Triple Rock have a vending machine for guitar strings, cords, and drumsticks, but it only takes $1 bills.]

[Cedar Avenue, 1890s and today.]

Finally, the geography of the venue was a perfect fit for the music. The Triple Rock was literally next to the freeway onramp. Before the freeway, Cedar Avenue had a contiguous row of bars and shops running from seven corners all the way to Franklin (where the railyard used to be).

But the freeways obliterated this old street, and left the remnants of  the old bars and buildings in tatters. In fact, little amputated bits of Cedar like the Cabooze and the Joint are still floating around, offering refuge to bikers and other small scenes, and the Triple Rock was one of these, like a lighthouse of punk on the edge of an ocean of cars.

I’m thankful for the owners, who created such a harmonious place in which to tell the world to fuck off. Running the joint for twenty years is quite a gift to the city, and according to the articles, they just ran out of energy and (presumably) got a retirement offer they couldn’t refuse.

The building is slated to become a restaurant and banquet hall / event center. I am sure it won’t be anything like what it was, and I hate to see a perfect scene disappear. Check it out one last time before it closes for good.

[The bar scene.]

[Bathroom graffiti.]

[Soup of the day is whiskey.]

[A pre-war photo, BOTC awards, Lando Calrissian, a Colt .45 ad, and the Triple Rock's first dollar.]

The Country Bar Revisited

[The neon cowboy.]

The following is an excerpt from Noteworthy Dive Bars of South Minneapolis, a guide booklet available for sale in the online store.

[Excerpt begins.]

The Country Bar is the 
latest in a long line of 
late Lake Street dives.
 These marginal drunken 
ephemera — places like
 the Poodle Club or the
 Yukon Club (R.I.P.) —
lasted for a long time as
 liquor oases amidst the
 upright wasteland of
 gentility that forms Min
neapolis’ Southern half.
 And The Country Bar held out the longest, an Alamo of booze fighting off the moneyed ranks of good taste.

At least, until it didn’t.

So too, the origins of The County Bar seem a Western tale: a pair of roaming poultry purveyors named Shorty and Wags spent years frying around South Minneapolis making their name with their secret chicken recipe, like the cooks from a Cattle drive. Their legend was long as a sunset shadow in summertime, and the chicken craving people of the city flocked to their banner. Or so it was told.

At some point Shorty and Wags brought their fried fowl into the Country Bar, and the magic recipe of karaoke, cheap rail liquor, and barely-vented cooking oil holed up here, coalescing into a crevasse off Lyndale Avenue.

Lake Street is South Minneapolis’ great watershed, a ridge of density and diversity thrusting up like Grand Tetons on the plains of the single-family city. As such, it becomes both a border and a seam, dividing and connecting the relative chaos to the North from the placid neighborhoods stretching off alphabetically Southward. And the Lyndale corner rises a bit higher than the rest, a local peak of aging industry and commerce, now converted into a bourgeois utopia alongside the Midtown Greenway. It remains, with the solid detail-rich five-story edifices meeting at the corner (amplified today by the new, carnivalesque youth-oriented apartment boom), the closest approximation of a coastal cityscape you’ll find East of uptown. And in their midst, The Country Bar crouched like an alley bum.

A small confession: I once knew a couple who lived in one of the adjacent buildings. Stolen wi-fi from the County Bar was painfully slow, but there nonetheless. Their kitchen window opened up out onto its next-door rooftop, and we’d clamber out on autumnal evenings to traverse the grey pebbles like New Yorkers of old. The highlight was a cross-Country Bar trip to the building on the corner, topped with a large diagonal rooftop billboard facing towards the Lyn-Lake intersection. To sit before the 20-foot faces of the all-white KMSP news anchors or Edina realtors illuminated behind us, drink in hand, watching South Minneapolis bustle like a rapid creek below, was a high point. In the background, the short ventilation pipe of the Country Bar stuck like a straw through the rooftop, a periscope venting musky warmth of old grease into the air.

No Wild West cliché would be complete without music, and here too the Country Bar delivered. Instead of a haggard honky-tonk tickled by a nervous man in a bowtie, this was one of the top two most reliably intimate karaoke stages in the city. (The other being Northeast’s Otter Bar, a triangle of squeezed and improper song.) To sing at the Country was to get acquainted with strangers, the usual irony and distance crushed into something felt keenly, a vocal perspiration.

[You can purchase the entire booklet at the Sidewalk store.]

[The Country Bar on its last legs in 2013.]

By the time the official Dive Bar Tour sallied forth into South Minneapolis, the Country Bar had closed. I remember the tour riding by on our bicycles, and gazing at the cardboard that had sealed up the doorway like a tomb. Remembering the good and middling times I’d had at the bar over the years, it was poignant, like a funeral for an admired acquaintance.

But things have changed. The Country Bar has reopened under new management. And what’s more, it’s been completely remodeled, taken from dive territory and elevated firmly into the realm of hipster swank. A set of large red neon signs are mounted over the entrance, a simple animation of a cowboy on a horse. Inside,  gone are the crooked old wooden floors; in with the patterned tile. (Though if you stand by the entrance you can still feel underfoot the wild skew of the old bar floor.) Gone is the old beat-up bar; in with fresh copper top. The ceiling boasts a beautifully designed Wild West-themed mural. The heads of bison hang on the walls. The interior decorator budget was very well spent.

Craft beer taps are nestled amidst spare shelving, carefully adorned with quality bourbon and the like. solid dark wood booths have taken the place of the old awkward tables. This is no longer the dive of yore, the only “poors” inside appear on a pun above the kitchen window. They still have karaoke four nights a week, but it would not be the same, and I doubt we will see the old mixing of black and white, hip and disheveled, within these walls again.  Instead, this place, nodding to the past, positioned as an ironic commentary on the actual douche-ridden “cowboy” themed meat market down the street.

If a dive is to die, to be replaced, let it at least be tasteful. We can drink to that.

[Copper bar, flat screen TVs, a ceiling mural with vintage aesthetics.]

[Old Overholt, the last vestige of the hipster dive.]

[Buffalo on the bricks.]

[You'll find these same brass horses across town at Tracks.]

Reading the Highland Villager #160

[A Highland Villager adopting a transient lifestyle.]

[Basically the problem is that the best source of Saint Paul streets & sidewalks news is the Highland Villager, a very fine and historical newspaper. This wouldn't be a problem, except that its not available online. You basically have to live in or frequent Saint Paul to read it. Until this newspaper goes online, sidewalk information must be set free. See also: Three Reasons Why I Re-Blog the Highland Villager.]  


Headline:  Midway redesign faulted for being overly optimistic; Shopping center owner criticizes redevelopment plan for lacking flexibility
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: [Pity the poor dingy strip mall owner from New York for he is oft misunderstood, what with all these fanciful notions of “multi-story” buildings, “sidewalks,” and “green trees.”] The owner of the strip mall is pushing back on the city’s / Billionaire soccer team owner’s plans to redevelop the strip mall and adjacent vacant lot into a soccer stadium and mixed-use urban development. Among his complaints are “standards for redevelopment” and requirements that the “minimum floor area ratio” are too high. [He does not like that the FAR might be required to be 2, which is greater than 1. For those of you scoring at home, that would be an average of two stories per square foot, which is not that much really, and much less than the original vision plans.] City staff would like more density. Article includes some historical context of the site and its current situation. Article includes a quote from a Planning Commissioner: “it seems like RK Midway helped develop the master plan, but now its backpedaling.” [I had the same thought. During the Planning Commission hearing, the strip mall owner and team owner sat side-by-side and presented a united front in support of this plan and the density goals. And now the strip mall owner is saying that a 2.0 FAR is unrealistic? Seems like very shoddy behavior.] There was an extended discussion of the parking lot next to the liquor store. Most of the new parking lots will be temporary but one will be “permanent.” [Scroll down for further of this concept.]


Headline: Stadium city criticized for rosy forecast on transit use [I’ve had it with all this optimism. I didn’t move to this city to be optimistic! And since when has transit ridership exceeded forecasts? Name one time that happened.]
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: The planning study for the soccer stadium and surrounding site has high goals for transit ridership. A grassroots anti-stadium group is stating that the projections are “not credible” and that traffic congestion will occur. [It’s funny to me how ostensibly environmentalist activists are now against idealistic transit projections and defending a car-dominated planning scenario.] Article includes details about parking and projections. [I assume the plan here, since actually stopping the stadium is highly unlikely, is to force the city or someone to spend millions subsidizing more parking lots. Nice job everyone.] Interesting quote: “there are about 2,500 more off-street parking spaces within a mile of the stadium.” [Actually I’m pretty sure this is a low estimate. University Avenue is well over half pavement.] Most ridiculous quote: MnDOT has called for careful planning of pedestrian crossings near I-94 and Snelling so that there are no traffic backups on game days. [Um, maybe should have thought about this before abandoning a pedestrian and bike friendly plan when reconstructing the entire area a year ago? I am predicting traffic backups on game days.] Neighbors are concerned about traffic and parking, and would like some bike lanes. [If you don’t build high-quality bike lanes to and from the stadium in all directions, especially when crossing the auto-heavy streets and areas, you’ll only make all these other problems even worse.]


Headline: Another summer of road work is wearing on Randolph shops; Businesses are hanging in there, but the project can’t end soon enough
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: [When roads and other things underneath roads get old they need to be fixed and you can’t drive on them for a while.] Some businesses have fewer customers when the road is closed because people only drive to them. Article details all the infrastructure being repaired like sewers, water mains, gutters, and something called “bituminous pavement.” [Sounds sexy!] Some parts of the road will open sooner than others. Randolph Avenue will not be widened, but “it will reconfigure the traffic lanes, revise signal timing and relocated a bus stop to improve traffic flow.” [Moving that pesky bus stop, thank goodness. The last thing we need is for those greedy transit-riding people to be dropped off close to the corner where the grocery store is located.] Detours “aren’t helping.”


Headline: Eye of the beholder; Neighbors fail to take a shine to city’s new LED streetlights
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: The old street lights had older “sodium” bulbs from the 80s but new street lights have LED bulbs that use less energy but are brighter and also a different shade of light, more blue and less yellow. In the 80s, the less bright bulbs were criticized for being less bright. Today these brighter bulbs are criticized for being brighter. There are 38,000 streetlights in the city, and 5,500 of them have been replaced. Engineers are trying to figure out what to do. Quote from neighbor: “I could do surgery in my living room now.” [Hm.]


Headline: Federation seeks extension for Riverside School proposals
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: It will probably take longer to redevelop an abandoned school building than people thought at first.


Headline: Commission favors 128 Café’s request for full liquor license
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: You will be able to order a cocktail at the restaurant.


Headline: St. Paul grants expanded use of City House along the river
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: An historic grain elevator that was supposed to become an event space but didn’t because it sometimes floods will now have temporary “food truck”-style food and beverage service in it. [Hooray. Otherwise it’s such a waste. The “beer by the river” test front-runner is here! And finally there will be something to actually do in the otherwise really lovely Upper Landing area. Not much parking, though. You’ll have to bike or walk to get there.]


Headline: Environmental study done on Hill District porch renovation
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: Someone wants to tear down part of a house to build a larger porch. It’s in an historic district so a study is required. [There goes the neighborhood.]


Headline: Public comments sought on updated plan for Union Park
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: The Union Park neighborhood is going to make a plan.


Headline: City Council seeks grants for local developments projects
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: The city is applying for Met Council funding for investing in affordable housing and walkable neighborhoods.


Headline: State receives grant to update Fort Snelling Historic District
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: The historical society is getting money to re-think its historic designation for Fort Snelling [which is historically important but not always in good ways, you know].


Headline: Study aims to alleviate parking crunch in Ramsey Hill
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: Neighbors are concerned about traffic and parking. And so there was a meeting to talk about traffic and parking in an area of the city that is popular and has many restaurants. [In the 1970s, Selby and Western were a destitute wasteland. In the 1870s, there was a brothel there, but cars weren’t invented yet so parking wasn’t an issue.] There is a study by a consultant to recommend solutions to parking. [I have one idea. It turns out when you ask smart expert people who have studied problems just like this in other cities on the planet about how to solve parking problems they say things like “parking meters.”] Article quotes CM Thao: “with vibrancy comes challenges.” [Like too much vibrancy, when things start vibrating so quickly you can’t see straight any more. Or when you know people have to walk two blocks to their car.] Best quote: “past efforts to resolve parking problems have been criticized for lacking factual information.” [Yep. Factual information sure is helpful sometimes. I prefer it to the visions from my nightmares almost all of the time. Much prefer factual information. Except you know factual information about climate change. That just terrifies me and I completely ignore it, much preferring to think about how to make it easier to drive around.] Ideas on the table include permit parking. [But not parking meters, which you know, would make it easy to park if you paid a tiny bit of money but harder if you didn't?] Another quote: people really want to see more facts.” [I rather doubt it.] [Sort of funny] description of the meeting goes like this [and which is so good and well-written that I have to quote it at length]: “residents greatly outnumbered business owners… those who attended pored over neighborhood maps, stuck sticky dots and notes onto boards, and buttonholed city staff and consultants to make their opinions known. As dots accumulated on posters, several issues became clear. Most people at the meeting drive cars to get around. Fewer walk and even fewer bike.” ["As dots accumulated...." that's just really well written, even poetic.] Quote from neighbor: "how many more businesses are coming in?” [Because you know, having lots of shops, restaurants, cafés is bad news for a walkable city like Saint Paul. And it wouldn't be historically accurate to the area's period of historic significance, which is apparently the early 1980s and not any of the other dozens of decades when there were tons of shops in this area.] One guy who owns an apartment building with no parking tried to get the city to ban other people from parking on his street but was rejected by the city. [Classic Yogi Berra “nobody goes there any more, it’s too crowded” moment here, which will henceforth be known by its acronym NGTAMITC. How elegant!]

Headline: Residents hold court over plans to redesign McQuillan Park
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: A park is being remodeled. Neighbors want to keep the tennis court but that will come at the expense of remodeling playground equipment. [Won’t somebody think of the children?] It’s in a historic district and will require the preservationists input. [How about a bigger porch?] City plans call for the removal of single tennis courts, but lots of people still play on it.There was a debate about whether the playground should be “traditional” or “more sculptural.” Neighbors are concerned about overgrown basswood trees, a lack of a grill, and flying tennis balls.


Headline: [And buried deep within the Villager bowels] Pedestrian safety upgrades outlined for West 7th intersections
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: West 7th Street will get some changes to corner curbs and sidewalks that will make it less dangerous for people walking around, including a bumpout, narrower turning areas, crosswalks, restricted turns, and small one-way street designations. [This is long past long overdue as the street has been a dangerous often uncrossable speeding car barrier for generations.] There might be some temporary bollards but neighbors are concerned about traffic. Two people have been killed in seven years. [But for each of those people there were likely hundreds of other crashes or near-misses.] Article includes a brief history of the street, which runs at an angle.


Headline: St. Paul considers imposing new regulations on short-term rentals
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: People use the internet to rent out rooms in their houses sometimes. The city is planning to at making some rules about it. Best quote: “[CM] Tolbert who has used such services in other cities, said that while short-term rentals provide a convenience for travelers, they also raise concerns about public safety, tax-free commerce and the promotion of transient lifestyles in residential neighborhoods.” [What the heck is a “transient lifestyle”? No seriously, did anyone really utter those words?] Only CM Noecker voted against the plan to study these. The intent of the study is to draft zoning and licensing rules. Short-term rentals are trendy. B&B’s want to protect their brand. There are taxes on the line. [Gosh I can’t stop thinking about transient lifestyles. The problem is that I don’t know what a transient lifestyle is or what it has to do with AirBnB. The dictionary defines “transient” as meaning “lasting for a short time, impermanent.” This has potential to reach into some seriously ontological and/or theological terrain. If only God is permanent, then surely all our lives are transient, i.e. fleeting, no? Yet what does permanence mean for human being? Perhaps Bergson’s notion of durée is useful here, the overlapping presence of the past and its contraction into a point of immediacy does not preclude the existence of that past. The overlapping co-existence of life in all its forms suggest that transience and permanence have different durations for each of us. Is a river permanent or transient? And yet it moves, as Galileo once said. … Then again, “lifestyle” is something  else altogether. Perhaps this is a critique of taste, and Tolbert’s notion is aimed at forming an essentialist concept of aesthetics based on Kant’s definition of art. If that were so, when confronted with the nature of the sublime, Tolbert is arguing that one must adopt a posture of reverence and even terror in the face of nature's infinitude, and that’s what’s wrong with these kids today, of which Tolbert is one apparently because he uses AirBnB too and is my age more or less I’m pretty sure. BTW I've never used Air BnB but I read about it on the internet.]


Headline: City trims CVS’s signs down to size
Author: Jane McClure

Short short version: A chain drug store wants two big signs but the Board of zoning Appeals will only let them have one. According to the corporate drug store signage consultant from Indiana, “larger signs were sought for reasons of visibility.” [Ah, that explains it.] Article quotes a neighborhood guy: “In an era of GPS and MapQuest, a sign like this seems very 1990s.” [Saint Paul sometimes seems very 1990s, especially with all this Trump, Clinton, Ninja Turtles, and Ghostbusters stuff lately. And, you know, the whole traffic and parking thing.] Sign guy also said, “we understand that people don’t want a CVS pharmacy on the site, but we’re here.” [At least we stopped their drive-thru.]



PS: This Highland Villager re-cap composed while listening to Wagner's Siegfried, which probably explains the Kant.

[Siegfried does a parking study.]

Great Small Shops #1: Practical Goods

[The winter corner.]

Wendy, who runs the Practical Goods Thrift Shop in downtown Saint Paul's JAX Building, will refuse to sell you a polyester-blend bandanna. She won't do it, and doesn't carry them. If you have one, she'll probably try to talk it out of your hands. They can give you a rash and aren't absorbent.

The same goes for certain kinds of pots and pans, sub-par fabrics, furniture that easily breaks. Practical Goods is the anti-Walmart, a place where nothing is disposable. Instead, Wendy curates her store with the eye of an engineer, and can recite with gentle aplomb details about the invention of the pressure cooker or the proper care of wooden spoons.

(I picture a store called Impractical Goods full of Wendy's rejects: non-QWERTY typewriters, left-handed scissors, fondue sets, tiny magnifying glasses.)

I first discovered Practical Goods at its old location on Saint Clair Avenue, when a rainbow array of porcelain pots glittered through the windowpane. In the almost mystic entryway, I recall grinning as Wendy answered a small question with her reply outlining a philosophy of stuff. With a rich description of its properties, she talked me into trying a cast aluminum skillet. And Wendy was right, it's magnificent, especially for cooking perfect tortillas. I've since gone back in times of need to find useful things: a potato masher, a hand-crank coffee grinder, a corn pot, spoons, tweed, a butter dish, a linen shirt.

[The old Saint Clair storefront.]

[Bandanna parabola, hats, overalls, wooden furniture.]

[Wendy, bottom left corner, discussing material culture with a customer.]

[Tweed rack.]

Every time climbing the metal stairs to the 3rd Floor of the JAX building, finding the hallway lined with bright shirts, Wendy has been waiting with her cats and her knitting needles like a Buddha of thrift under her white bun. I might play the piano or discuss Renaissance food. That said, it doesn't hurt to call ahead.

Of course, it's all about to end. Just like her earlier shop, Wendy is due to lose her lease as the JAX Building, home to a bounty of artist studios, has been sold. It wasn't hard to see it coming. The building is both run-down and beautiful, and directly adjacent to the sparklingly restored Union Depot train station and the light rail terminus.

When she had to pack up her store the first time, you could feel the dread descend. A store like Practical Goods does not fall lightly into place. Wendy does nothing without great care, and putting everything into a storage pod must be like a trauma.

Get there while you can. Find your material needs and bring questions. You will not leave empty handed.

[Candles on a grand piano.]

["Home is where the cat is."]

[Roller skates.]

[Blue, green, and orange glass objects before a wall of denim.]