A Eulogy for SoTac Places

Today’s installment of the South Tacoma Way series was co-authored by Ken Sikes and his wife Erin.

When I became a minister, I fully expected to be a part of many funerals, especially when I accepted the call to an aging congregation. What I didn’t expect was to be involved in the death and dying process for things other than people. In a little less than six years, South Tacoma has bid farewell not only to its share of beloved people, but also to some of its beloved places. Among these are places of gathering, places of commerce, and places of worship. What they share in common is an ending that came too soon.

Upon my arrival in South Tacoma I was ecstatic to discover a place nearby where I could get good biscuits and gravy. As a displaced Southerner, I am always looking out for a greasy little taste of home, and here it was, for just about $3.00. The fall after I began my residence in South Tacoma, just about every Monday morning you could find my wife, my daughter and me at Tranquilitea on 56th Street. I would be dragging a biscuit through some homemade gravy, drinking a strong cup of drip coffee, my Seattleite wife would be sipping her tall non-fat latte and enjoying a warm scone. Unfortunately, this routine was halted too soon when the couple who ran this little slice of northwest-meets-southeast decided to move on to work that didn’t consume so much of their time and energy. The building sat vacant for awhile before being leased again, but the death of Tranquilitea was the death of the $3 biscuit plate in South Tacoma, and the end of a breakfast place on which my wife and I always agreed.

Just up the street from Tranquilitea, at the corner of 54th and South Tacoma Way, sits a building that once housed a gathering place of South Tacomans called Steve’s Gay 90’s. Long before gay referred to a person’s sexual orientation or the 90’s recalled the internet boom, there was the happy time of the 1890’s. Steve’s was a hub of social activity, hosting live shows, music and comedic acts, all served with a healthy portion of food and drink. Hoping to reawaken some of the communal spirit of this place, a young couple leased the spot and opened Pub 54. Their intent was to create a space that was true to the meaning of the word Pub, which is short for public, providing not only hearty burgers and a cold beer, but a gathering space, as well. While we did our best, along with friends and family, to eat and drink this new establishment into life, there were not enough like-minded residents. Sadly, Pub 54 closed in just a year’s time.

Last November I wrote was up to that point the most personal eulogy among these, for a place around the corner from the church called Ginger’s Corner Café. Ginger’s owner, Lori, tried for three years to create a space for neighborhood folks to gather around coffee and tea. She was successful in the gathering, but like the proprietors of Tranquilitea before her, she found the hours and profits weren’t as kind. Now our little Manitou borough is a place without a coffee shop or another “third place” to gather when not at home or work. More than a few prayers have been whispered for such a place to return when my 3:00 caffeine lag hits or when I need a nearby space to meet with folks from the neighborhood.

Of course no memory of dying businesses would be complete without mentioning South Tacoma’s last grocery store, the Red Apple. For three years I stopped at the Red Apple for last minute ingredients and inexpensive DVD rentals. While I was glad to have a grocery store close to my home, I realized, just like Joni Mitchell, that you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. These days, you will find the residents of South Tacoma schlepping across town to buy a can of tomato sauce or a pint of cream. This happens despite the fact that the building owners (Hogan Enterprises) had another grocery store eager to take the Red Apple’s place. Rather than lease to an IGA franchise, they chose to let the building lay vacant for two years before a dollar store finally took the space, though not the place, of the Red Apple.

For some time I eased my worry that South Tacoma might be poor soil for organizational plants by reminding myself that new business failure rates are generally very high, especially in a time of economic downturn. If it is true that it takes a business 36 months to turn a profit, then its no wonder so many newly sprouted coffee shops and restaurants wither before the end of that long winter. But what does it mean to a neighborhood when a place that has been around for more than three, more than thirty, even more than 100 years closes its doors?

I realize now how ironic it is that I learned about the impending passing of Asbury Methodist Church during the Easter season, the time when the Church rejoices in its triumph over death and celebrates new life. Founded in 1891, Asbury sat in the geographic center of South Tacoma for almost 120 years. While I am mostly unaware of her role in the community for the bulk of her existence, I can offer a long list of ways she served the neighborhood over the last decade. What follows is just a brief accounting of the recent ministry of that venerable church.

Under the leadership of Rev. Joy McDonald, Asbury expanded its existing food bank to become one of the busiest in Pierce County. They opened a childcare center that met the needs of South Tacoma’s high percentage of working single parents. They hosted rehabilitation programs for the Department of Corrections, with particular focus on juvenile offenders. Some of their work in this arena led the church to open their cavernous basement as Club Adrian, which served as a safe place for local youth bands to gather and perform. During Christmas Asbury caught the attention of commuters on 56th Street with the sign that read, “If you’re child doesn’t have a doll for Christmas, please take ours.” Underneath the sign was a nativity set with a refurbished doll available for any mother to take. Dozens of parents accepted the invitation every year.

As much as it was a formal gathering place for youth and worshipers alike, Asbury was an open place for people who don’t always find a welcoming smile when they enter a church. Several non-church groups, including Narcotics Anonymous and Alcoholics Anonymous, and civic groups, such as South Tacoma Network for Youth, took advantage of their open doors and convenient location for their meetings. To better serve the people of their worshipping community, they moved their worship service from the traditional Sunday morning time to Saturday night, when fewer people were working and more were able to attend. With that move, Asbury became one of the only churches that was open every day of the week except Sunday. Few churches in Tacoma were busier Monday through Saturday than Asbury Methodist, and her presence will be greatly missed by hundreds and hundreds of people in this neighborhood and beyond, including me.

Pub 54, Ginger’s, the Red Apple, Asbury … I feel like “Taps” should be playing on the bagpipes in the background as these names are read. What is a neighbor to make of the passing of these communal assets? Is the South Tacoma soil too rocky for new businesses to develop roots deep enough to survive? Is it the case that our soil isn’t rich enough to support the kind of organizations we desire (as the supermarket folks keep telling us)? Is it the case that there are just too many weeds with which the businesses must compete? Or is it merely that that South Tacoma’s struggles are indicative of the times, mirroring the hardship facing neighborhoods across the country?

A friend told me recently that organizations tend to have the same life-span as people do, typically 75-80 years. In order to survive beyond their years, they must in some way die and be re-born. I don’t know if this is true for businesses, organizations, or even entire neighborhoods, but I know from experience that it is the case for gardens. Every spring, my own little plot in the backyard proves it. Before new plants can grow, the old plants must die. But the critical piece is that, in the most productive gardens, the old hulls and vines don’t get wasted. In fact, the opposite is true. The old plant matter, the dry leaves, the dead stalks, the withered flowers, is tossed together in a warm, dark place where it slowly withers and melts and molds into one deep, rich pile of compost. It is this life-out-of-death that gets re-worked into the soil where new seeds will be planted. It provides nourishment, hospitality, safety, growth. By doing so, the old growth sustains this new life. I’m not sure what, exactly, the dead and dying businesses and organizations of South Tacoma are leaving to those yet to come, but what I hope is that, just as in the literal garden, this old life sustain the new in the garden we call South Tacoma.