4 Lessons on Losing a Third Place
(Source: Unsplash/Rizky Subagja.)
One of the best things about writing this column is that I can do it from anywhere. And like many writers, when I find myself unsure of what topic to tackle, heading to a coffee shop is generally a good way to get started. The promises of coffee, a warm ambiance, and people-watching are all good incentives. This morning, I packed up a tote bag with my laptop, notebook, and a couple of library books and hopped on the bus headed toward downtown. My plan was to visit a new coffee shop in the Exchange District, get a drink (and ok, probably a delicious pastry, too) and get at least a first draft of this column done.
When I arrived mid-morning, the café was bustling and there was a line at the counter. How wonderful for this new establishment, I thought to myself. It must be a nerve-wracking leap of faith to open any sort of business and I was happy to see that this place was already clearly doing well. I ordered my drink (and at the last minute couldn’t resist tacking on a cheese croissant). By the time my drink was ready, the place was so full that there were no chairs left to sit on. I asked at the counter if they might happen to have a few extra chairs; they apologetically said no. I settled for sitting on a “waiting for your order” bench near the cream and sugar station, my ceramic cup and saucer balanced precariously on my lap, and resigned myself to doing some reading instead of writing.
I had my coffee and pastry while working on the books I’d brought, getting up once or twice to see if any chairs had been freed up, but they hadn’t. So, before long, I was heading back home, feeling sort of crestfallen and a bit cranky. But those feelings weren’t about not getting a seat at the popular new café or about my kiboshed writing plans. They were because this coffee shop, Sam’s Place, had recently relocated from my neighborhood of Elmwood, where for more than a decade it had been a five-minute walk from my home. The new Sam’s Place was now in a different neighborhood and no longer within walking distance.
When Sam’s was at its Elmwood location, I’d rarely seen it this lively and busy. If I had to guess, it probably never managed to get sufficient foot traffic. Although it was located on our neighborhood high street, the street was also a six-lane stroad. People in the neighborhood would often remark that they wanted to support it, but kept forgetting it was there.
Sam’s Place had started out as a used bookstore/coffee shop/music space and was a big, roomy, unpretentious place, with a carpeted kids’ corner, a small stage, and a giant lizard as a mascot. As a social enterprise that provided young people with critical life and job skills, the coffee-going experience wasn’t always uniformly positive, especially in the early days. I often tried to remind myself that it wasn’t perfect, but it was ours and it was there, and it played an important role in the neighborhood. Over the years, I had many coffee and lunch dates with friends and family, meetings with elected officials and political candidates, and, yes, writing sessions with myself.
In recent years, Sam’s had moved away from the used bookstore and music aspects, likely due to pandemic upheaval. The service had gotten more reliable, and the food had become really good. They’d added a small market area with lovely, locally made jewelry and ceramics, fair trade food items, and quirky cards and t-shirts, and had evolved into a place that I was excited to bring people to. Truth be told, it felt cooler and nicer than anything we were used to in our neighborhood. In retrospect, this feels like a sign that it wasn’t meant to be.
In the end, the Sam’s Place move was the result of the parent organization (a nonprofit) consolidating all their staff and programs, who’d been located throughout the city, into one downtown space. In chatting with staff, the move has clearly been a good one for workplace relationships, and I am honestly pleased for them that it’s been a success. If they had to move, I’m happy it was downtown (and that it’s still relatively easy for me to get to). And I’m heartened that the social enterprise model concept proved itself and is still going strong, helping young people with barriers to employment get the skills they need to live good lives.
Still, I feel sorry and saddened that we lost a neighborhood asset. I couldn’t help but think of Sam’s as MY coffee shop, and I came here to support it, but I couldn’t even get a seat. I suppose I felt left behind.
And maybe irrationally, given the reasons for the move, I also kind of feel like my neighbors and I really blew it by not managing to keep a hold on this little treasure we had. It’s not the first time that a business I liked closed up shop: the Filipino bakery, the butcher’s shop, the antiques place. Of course, businesses close or move for any number of reasons, but it sometimes feels like keeping businesses around is a losing battle.
What is the moral of my sad tale of the coffee shop that moved away? I’ve been mulling it over, and I suppose there are a few things:
1. Third places (those places beyond home, work, and school where you can spend time relaxing, connecting, and feeling a sense of belonging) are incredibly vital and valuable.
Sociologist Ray Oldenburg called them “the heart of a community’s social vitality, the grassroots of democracy.” Steve MacDouell’s piece, “Three things I’ve learned in my local coffee shop,” is a great primer on why coffee shops in particular tend to be highly desirable, key types of third places.
2. I should take stock of which other places in my neighborhood could potentially be third places, even if they’re not a coffee shop.
Perhaps there are restaurants that wouldn’t mind folks coming in and just having coffee. There’s one that’s advertising a breakfast special that runs from 7 a.m. to 11 a.m. Maybe they wouldn’t mind if I came for a few cups of coffee between the early birds and the brunch crowd. I won’t know unless I ask.
3. When there are special places in your neighborhood, you’ve got to support them, and you’ve got to tell other people about them.
Small businesses won’t stay afloat on positive thoughts alone; they need regulars.
4. Fix that stroad!
Probably a lot of the reason people forgot Sam’s Place was in my neighborhood was because the stroad environment strips away any sense of place these small businesses are trying to create or foster. It’s an uphill battle for them. This stroad has good bones, and the fact that new businesses DO keep setting up and trying to make a go of it in one of the many small commercial spaces is an indication of the potential that’s being held back.
I’ll miss the old Sam’s, and I’ll keep going to the new Sam’s…though maybe I’ll go earlier to make sure I get a seat. And I’ll try to carry with me the lessons learned in saying goodbye to the old location.
Emma Durand-Wood likes walkable cities, front porches, street trees, bumping into neighbors, riding her bike, downtowns, and any excuse to check out a new coffee shop, bakery, or shop. A Winnipegger by choice, she lives in Elmwood with her husband and three children. You can connect with her on Twitter @emmaewood.