The power of a pickle

As Christmas Day approaches and a battery of economic indicators point toward an agonizingly slow recovery, here's a story of hope at the holidays: "A nation in need of a Yodeling Pickle."

Written by my friend and former colleague, Spencer Heinz, the piece ran two Sundays ago in The Oregonian. In it, Spencer told the story of a Portland couple who own a joke and novelty shop and how, with help from loyal customers, they're trying to stay in business in these very tough times. You'd think it would be difficult since their store offers the ultimate in discretionary items -- fake spiders, toy eyeballs, pretend vomit ... even a battery-operated Yodeling Pickle.

I posted a followup on the Opinion blog a few days later, summarizing the public's response to these merchants. But that was trumped yesterday by the email (dated Dec. 19) I received from Spencer.

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Hi,

I just wanted to make sure you knew how much your story helped that store, Bazaar of the Bizarre. I went in there a few days before the story came out, to spend $10 on gifts for an 8 years old’s birthday party. I was the only customer in the store (someone else was keeping warm and waiting for their ride). When I put my $10.50 down, the owner acted surprised, like it was a large transaction. Maybe it was the first or only of the day.

Last Sunday when I saw the story and very nice picture, I posted the link to the neighborhood association (Montavilla) email list, with some of my comments about being a several-time customer of the store, yesterday’s pricing, “something for everyone” and that it contributes to the character of Glisan St.

Today, Saturday, I went in there for a last minute gift exchange item around 11:30. There were maybe 20 people in the store. I asked Keith if he had any yodeling pickles left – I was just curious, didn’t want one. He pointed to a shelf behind me, across from the check-out counter. There seemed to be 8-10 on the top shelf. I asked if he sold a lot of them since the article. He said about 100. I asked if this is a typical Christmas crowd. Lynne said it’s 10 times the usual Christmas crowd, due to the article. By the time I was ready to check out, there were 8-10 people in line. I couldn’t believe it, I have never seen a line in that store. I even took pictures with my phone camera to give to the owners later. The owners were both taking customers and keeping the line moving, no time for their usual witty banter and demonstration of products. I don’t think they even looked up as people came in the front door.

The whole time I was standing in line I noticed there were no more pickles on that top shelf across from check out. I told Lloyd, after my 30 second transaction (had my exact change ready, no receipt needed, just to help them keep the line moving). He stood up and looked surprised. He told his wife they need to go stock more. I think he left her alone with the long line of customers while he went to the back room. There were more people in the store when I left than when I had arrived 20 minutes earlier. Almost all were middle aged, professional looking, serious about spending money there, and having a good time selecting their purchases. As I was leaving, more people were coming in the door and others were parking or getting out of their cars. I am not used to seeing so many cars parked in that block. There were 8-10 cars in one direction and maybe 3-4 in the previous block. I went to Gresham for about 2 hours and when I drove by the store on the way home, it was even more packed, like 25-30 people, 10 or so in line, parked cars for more than a block along the curb. I hope the owners were able to take meal and bathroom breaks. They were taking a lot of phone calls, too, sounded like people asking if they’re open today and maybe how late.

Good job on the article. It was fun and interesting to read. Obviously, people from outside of the immediate neighborhood came over to patronize the business, as a result of your article. One man told me he lives near Fremont and didn’t know about this store until he read the article. His arms were loaded with purchases. He said it’s been so long since he’s seen many of these items and it makes him nostalgic.

Maria

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Is there a lesson here? You bet. Shop local. Patronize independently owned small businesses in your neighborhood. If they thrive, so do we.

Photo of Lynne and Keith Hetrick by Spencer Heinz

A suburban mall and boyhood memories

Saturday afternoon I hopped in the car and headed to Clackamas Town Center, a 10-minute drive to the 185-store mall that's come to symbolize retail shopping in Portland's southeast suburbs. I was headed to J.C. Penney, hoping to pick up a couple of shirts while also patronizing one of The Oregonian's advertisers.

As I passed the Entering Clackamas County sign on I-205, I couldn't help but think of the negative images that have dogged folks who live in this largely conservative, blue-collar slice of the metro area. According to the stereotype, they are redneck high school dropouts who live in trailers, wouldn't know diversity -- much less celebrate it -- if it hit them in the face, and generally are unsophisticated rubes.

True, this is where disgraced figure skater Tonya Harding, above, grew up -- in fact, she practiced at Clackamas Town Center. True, this is where Ward Weaver killed two 12-year-old girls and buried them in his backyard. True, this is where a young couple, members of a faith-healing church, recently were tried for manslaughter and criminal mistreatment after forgoing medical treatment for their ailing 15-month-old daughter in favor of prayer.

But I can think of equally reprehensible things involving crime, local politics and racism that have sullied the images of more liberal, more affluent Multnomah and Washington counties, too. And, more important, I know there's a lot more to Clackamas County. Three of Oregon's wealthiest communities (Lake Oswego, West Linn, Happy Valley) are located here, along with the state's largest concentration of horse farms. Majestic Mount Hood and historic Timberline Lodge are located in Clackamas County.

True, I would never choose to live here; but, then, I also wouldn't be inclined to live in the westside suburbs, either. Still, I couldn't help but take in the scene at J.C. Penney without my mind reaching back to adolescence, when my family lived in the blue-collar, working-class suburbs southeast of hip and urbane San Francisco. It was a time that predated malls, when families like mine turned to stores like Penney's and Montgomery Ward for affordable clothing, appliances, tools and more.

Saturday, I could appreciate that the same hope of finding decent merchandise at discounted prices is what brought so many different people to the mall, be they Spanish-speaking families, African immigrants in colorful floor-length dresses and head scarves, or retired white folks, some in wheelchairs.

There's a lot to be said for patronizing small, independently owned shops, but there's also a place for corporate chain stores like Penney's which, to me, have always served as something of a great equalizer for the lower and middle classes. And not just for customers, but for employees, too, as I could see in the range of teenage to older workers lucky enough to have jobs in this economy.

As one who grew up in the suburbs, I remember all too well the feelings of sameness and tameness, of wishing I lived in a more exciting place. For most of my adult life, I've lived in Portland, drawn to the greater opportunities for entertainment and culture; the sense of pride in my neighborhood and in feeling part of a larger, progressive city.

For part of a day, though, I felt myself touching base with my working-class roots and feeling good that I'd spent my money in a place all too often is the butt of regional jokes.