The news that Whole Foods won’t build a new store, but rather will renovate the old Minyard’s at Abrams and Gaston, resulted in several days of neighborhood eruption last month (much of it on our blog at advocatemag.com). If nothing else, it demonstrated how passionate we are about what goes on around here — even if our passion is spent arguing about zoning for a supermarket that sells buffalo steaks and $6 tins of tuna.
In all of the excitement, however, key points were not addressed. First, though we got some sort of explanation from Whole Foods about why it changed its mind, it was not especially satisfying. The explanation didn’t address the company’s long-term plans for the site now that it’s not building. Is Whole Foods committed to Abrams and Gaston, or will it move at the first opportunity?
Second, why did what looked to be a relatively simple zoning request turn into the War of the Words, with each side — and especially Whole Foods — saying things that should not have been said? The company’s attitude and approach was puzzling throughout, and occasionally heavy-handed and condescending.
Whole Foods, in fact, has laid the groundwork for abandoning the Minyard’s site as soon as it can find something better. It has made it clear that it believes the neighborhood doesn’t appreciate the chain.
“We thought our reputation for delivering beautiful stores preceded us,” said its spokesman. “We believed that we had a great reputation in East Dallas.”
Whole Foods has made it clear that the zoning process here is too onerous: “We’ve built amazing and thoughtful stores in Austin, Manhattan, London and even Sugar Land.”
Almost makes you weepy, doesn’t it, this misunderstood $6.6 billion company that beat the federal government in an anti-trust case and whose CEO used to go online to anonymously blog spiteful things about the competition?
The spokesman also doesn’t mention Whole Foods’ two-year-plus attempt to build a store in Brooklyn on an industrial site, the Gowanus Canal corridor. The land, according to the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation, is contaminated with the carcinogen benzene, as well as toluene, ethylbenzene and xylene (each of which is hazardous to humans, according to the EPA).
Somehow, Whole Foods can spend the time and money to clean that site, but can’t deal with the nasty zoning commissars in Lakewood?
Don’t be surprised to see Whole Foods renovate the Minyard’s, stay a couple of years, and then move to the shopping center that houses Albertson’s at Mockingbird and Abrams.
The company that owns Albertson’s is on the edge financially and has been steadily losing market share in Dallas. In addition, that site offers Whole Foods everything the Gaston and Abrams location doesn’t — more drive-by traffic, a larger parking lot, 15,000 more feet of store space and less restrictive zoning.
That entire intersection is begging to be redeveloped, said several commercial real estate types I talked to. This ties into rumors I have heard repeatedly over the last couple of years about turning the Minyard’s site into mixed-use retail and residential, a mini-West Village. If Whole Foods leaves, that rumor sounds more and more feasible.
Finally, the neighborhood took a lot of criticism for being “obstructionist.” This is unfair, and I say this as someone who was willing to give Whole Foods the zoning variance.
Whole Foods owned the property for a year and repeatedly refused to discuss its plans. No one there returned phone calls or e-mails about the plans. When it finally made an announcement, it did so in a high-handed and secretive manner. No one in the company would even say what existing Whole Foods store the new one might look like.
Contrast that behavior with Aldi, which needed a similar zoning change to open a store on Gaston near Baylor. The neighborhood, the developer told me, bent over backwards to help the company get the change.
It’s amazing what happens when a company — and Aldi is a $45 billion multi-national — respects the people it works with.
