Our town has made some significant strides in moving away from the vision of a small town described in Sinclair Lewis’s novel Main Street. The model for Lewis’s Gopher Prairie, Sauk Centre, is about 20 miles northwest of here, just three exits up I-94. The primary critique is the ugliness the town. Here is the report on Carol Kennicott’s first impressions:
“In all the town not one building save the Ionic bank which gave pleasure to Carol’s eyes; not a dozen buildings which suggested that, in the fifty years of Gopher Prairie’s existence, the citizens had realized that it was either desirable or possible to make this, their common home, amusing or attractive.
It was not only the unsparing unapologetic ugliness and the rigid straightness which overwhelmed her. It was the planlessness, the flimsy temporariness of the buildings, their faded, unpleasant colors. The street was cluttered with electric-light poles, telephone poles, gasoline pumps for motor cars, boxes of goods. Each man had built with the most valiant disregard of all the others. Between a large new ‘block’ of two-story brick shops on one side, and the fire-brick Overland garage on the other side, was a one-story cottage turned into a millinery shop. The white temple of the Farmer’s Bank was elbowed back by a grocery of glaring yellow brick. One store-building had a patchy galvanized iron cornice; the building beside it was crowned with battlements and pyramids of brick capped with blocks of red sandstone.”
Our small town is struggling to emerge from a similar history, with crappy buildings of every brick and wood-paneled style imaginable, housing fire insurance businesses and dusty offices that seem forever unoccupied and display an odd collection of odds and ends to the world. The storefronts are mostly ugly– a Curves studio, a couple of college bars, a garage crowded with old heaps of unrepaired cars. Even the popular sandwich shop has had the same ferns hanging in macrame baskets since 1974.
Valuable strides have been made thanks to John Petters’ Collegeville Companies, a local real estate company that has built a very attractive set of stores/studios with residential lofts above. An Italian restaurant will open this weekend in the corner space, complete with outdoor patio.
There is also The Local Blend, our neighborhood coffee shop, with a fresh storefront and new striped awning. It has an unfortunate logo/sign that is not to my taste, but nonetheless it is bright and new. Next to it is still a bar that has recently embraced its nickname, The Middy (aka the Midway), with a garish red sign that clashes with the coffee shop sign next to it.
The Minnesota Street Market, our co-op, has also done amazing things with its storefront. It used to be Loso’s, a century-old grocery store that was truly a dusty eyesore. One of the first things they did was take the shutters off the windows. Now you can see the beautifully refinished hardwood floors and the inviting space inside. Half the space has become a thrift store and its window displays are lovingly attended to by local women who know what they’re doing. It’s a pleasure to walk past.
From left to right: The Minnesota Market, our "Ionian bank" now a music production company, The Middy and the coffee shop.
The only thing our small town was actually missing was an ice cream place. Nothing much was required– a little booth with soft-serve ice cream for evenings after a baseball game. A place to hit after a ride on the Lake Wobegon Trail. The closest place like that was 10 miles away in St. Cloud. Well, last year we got our wish, and this spring building commenced. I was so excited.
For a long time it was just a concrete slab, what looked like mostly parking, with the simple plumbing and elsectric infrastructure. That was ok. I was picturing the little blue-and-white place on Lincoln Highway we could walk to from the junior high. We called it Zumba Beach. I was picturing neon and high school girls in white uniforms. I was picturing something simple and ripe for nostalgia.
But as the facade began to rise, my heart sank. All was confirmed when the sign appeared: “Future Home of Kone Kastle.”
Kone Kastle? Nooooo!!!
I’m sure it will be fine. I’m sure they’ll have their version of DQ Blizzards, and I have to say that they’ve put in some very nice outdoor tables. I’m sure it will be an instant institution. In a few years it will seem like it has always been here. Or at least like it has been here since the tacky 1970s when such a name and appearance would have been kitchy but kute.
Here it is. The Kone Kastle! Flags flying!
Meanwhile, last week we learned the name of the Italian Restaurant. It is part of a 3-restaurant “chain,” and the name is Bello Cucina. That’s right, Bello. It’s an Italian restaurant, and I’m quite certain the Italian name for kitchen is La Cucina. There are many restaurants that pick up on that feminine article and go by the name Bella Cucina or even Cucina Bella.
The owner told a friend that it means “Handsome Kitchen.” Handsome indeed.
Hey, if I can get good Italian food at a reasonable price, sitting out on the patio with a glass of wine on a summer night, and then walk a few blocks for ice cream afterward, you won’t hear me doing my elitist complaining. Much.
This is my favorite architecturally confused building in St. Joseph. Right now it’s vacant. What’s up with the red spike wrought iron grill and the green spotlights? Was it once a dance hall? Movie theater? It was most recently the credit union, which moved across the highway into new digs, even though there was a perfectly good bank building next door.
Oh, sorry. Not a bank. The police station.
susan sink 