Opinion editor's note: Star Tribune Opinion publishes a mix of national and local commentaries online and in print each day. To contribute, click here.
•••
During a recent visit to Denver, I was struck by a question: What went wrong with the Nicollet Mall?
Denver built its own mall in 1982, and it's currently being redone. While construction barricades and detours abound, it didn't take a lot of imagination to see how the 16th Street Mall is different from the one in Minneapolis. Different as in successful.
There were people and plenty of them. People shopping. People going to lunch. All kinds of people from suits to shorts: alone, in pairs, in groups. And there were places for people to go: restaurants, bars, a movie theater. There were chain and local stores of all kinds. There were T-shirt shops. CBD stores. There were neon lights and tacky signs. You might guess the 16th Street Mall has a funkiness to it. Not as funky as Times Square in the '80s, but you know — funky.
Nicollet Mall is a completely different experience. Not funky — empty. Very few stores, as in very, very few. Restaurants, yes (thank you Barbara Flanagan), but only at one end and then only for a couple blocks. After being completely rebuilt a few years ago, it's pristine, polished, sanitized. It is, in short, boring.
Why are all the cool businesses in the North Loop or Northeast? From Lululemon to Warby Parker to Mill City Running, interesting retailing could be — should be — on the Mall. There's a time when such stores would have been. I'm old enough to remember when people strolled between department stores and women tossed their hats in the air. Woolworth sold popcorn and Young-Quinlan fine men's suits.
Now? Well, not so much.
Why did these two main-street malls turn out so differently?
For one, in the Twin Cities area, the impact of the Mall of America was undeniable. Having a shopping mall that's also a tourist attraction draws away dollars — especially out-of-town dollars — that would be spent in most downtowns.
For another, there are no skyways in Denver. There has been a lot of discussion about skyways — do they hurt or help downtown businesses? (For instance, "A farewell to skyways: The case for bringing them down," Opinion Exchange, April 23, 2017). Who knows, but I know that back in Nicollet Mall's heyday there were plenty of skyways, proof that they can coexist with a thriving street life.
No, I think the Mall's biggest challenge is in plain sight: the buildings. There are a lot of old buildings all up and down 16th Street in Denver. There are almost no old buildings on the Nicollet Mall. In fact, downtown Minneapolis lost its last cool block of fun small businesses when the century-old two-story brick buildings across from the Hilton went. When they were still there, you could see developers just itching to get out the wrecking ball.
Why does this matter?
You need small storefronts. You need reasonable rents. Huge skyscrapers with vast empty polished granite lobbies are dandy, but where are the nail salon and the T-shirt shop and the popcorn stand going to be?
Along with little stores and old buildings come neon signs and weird storefronts in general, all adding to the funky feel. The Nicollet Mall is decidedly not funky. It's as stiff as a starched dress shirt. Can you hang a neon sign outside of a cold glass box and bring it to life? Yeah, good luck with that.
Bottom line: We made some bad choices that doomed the Nicollet Mall to become a glass, limestone and steel wasteland.
What to do now? Well, two thoughts: Conquer physics, invent a time machine, and go back and don't tear down every old building in sight. Failing that, use said time machine to not rebuild the mall in 2017; instead, admit defeat and let it be just a street. Then, as we drive through, we can bore young passengers with stories about how that street used to be cool.
No time machine? Then let's just pledge to stop it. Keep the itchy developers away and stop tearing down every old building downtown. Look around. What — there aren't enough vacant lots to build on?
Since that's not going to happen, all I can say is heads up, Brit's Pub — the developers are coming for you.
William E. Burleson, of Minneapolis, is an author and publisher.
