Willy Street Co-op 25th Birthday Article

The 25-year-old east-side institution moves into new digs with more parking and more products.

By MICHELLE GERISE GODWIN

When the Williamson St. Co-op opened its doors on Oct. 9, 1974, a lifetime membership cost five bucks and burlap bags, filled with legumes and grains, sat on shelves for the picking.

"We didn't have any bulk bins back then," recalls Steve Rankin, who was part of the early collective effort to open a co-op in the Marquette neighborhood. "People would scoop right from the bags and fill up their own containers."

Times, oh how they have changed. On Oct. 21, the co-op moves into sprawling new quarters at 1221 Williamson St., where the Eagle's Club once hosted bowling leagues and fish fries. At 9,500 square feet, the new building triples the space the co-op had across the street at 1202 Williamson St. Sections carrying produce, frozen foods, and canned goods will double in size and an expanded deli area will feature fresh meat and fish. Look forward to a juice and coffee bar, a salad bar, tables and chairs near the registers, a customer service area near the vitamins and herbs, a cooking demonstration/community room, and a play area for kids.

Plenty of parking is guaranteed, but that sea of asphalt promises to be broken up by some green space out front. And for those who prefer to pedal, 25 parking stalls have been ripped out to make room for bikes.

Now, before you can say "Whole Foods," Willy Street manager Anya Firszt cautions the wary to keep things in perspective. "Going to 9,500 square feet is a big leap in growth," she says, "but look at places like Kohl's which is something like 40,000 square feet or Woodman's which is around 150,000 square feet. Just because we're a co-op, doesn't mean we can't be competitive."

In fact, surviving in the cut-throat grocery industry, notorious for its slim profit margin, requires just that. "At 3,100 square feet," says Firszt, who was been with the co-op 13 years, "we had a harder and harder time serving our customers' needs, and we knew we couldn't afford to lose them to bigger chains like Copp's, which now has a natural foods aisle."

Firszt says Willy has looked upon the Wedge in Minneapolis as a role model. "They started out very small like our first store once was, then expanded by moving to another location which, I believe, has twice the square footage of our new store. They now net over $14 million in annual sales, too."

Willy Street, like the Mifflin Street Co-op, has outlived Madison's other flower-power-1970s co-ops, such as Johnson Street's Whole Earth, and the Langdon Area Grocery; the growth of superstores, the flight of baby boomers to the suburbs and a transient student population doomed those ventures. The Common Market, a grocery buying club that was located in a warehouse on East Washington Avenue, and then on Gilson Street, also didn't make it.

"Initially, it was a really cool idea to have a buying club," says Rankin. "There was a real sense of doing something outside the norm, by ordering all this food in bulk and not ever setting foot inside a store." But, the novelty soon wore off. "As time went on," says Rankin, "people found they had less and less of it, and planning menus a week in advance got to be a real pain in the butt."

Willy St. Co-op, on the other hand, hasn't merely weathered the storms of competition, it has flourished. Over the past eight years, co-op sales have climbed steadily, with average annual increases of five to eight percent. In August, Willy Street's annual sales already topped the $4 million-dollar mark, and next year the co-op is expected to gross $6.5 million in sales. The co-op has 5,700 members, including 25 volunteers who earn up to an additional 15% discount on their groceries--depending on the amount of time worked--by stocking shelves, bagging groceries or refilling bulk bins.

An important part of Willy's success has also been its system of "member equity," which means that economic gains are shared by all who have made a monetary contribution. The equity, or "fair share" that Willy Street collects from potential members, is $56 for individuals and $91 for households. Once the fees are paid off--either in installments, or in full--member benefits kick in, including a 10% grocery discount, check writing privileges, and, most importantly the ability to vote on issues and elections (one membership equals one vote).

"The member-financing system is key for a co-op's growth," says Rankin. "When people make an actual investment in an economic entity, they're showing financial responsibility, they're taking the business seriously and they want it to make money so more goods and services can be provided for all members."

Ensconced on the corner of Williamson and Few streets since 1977, the Williamson Street Co-op is considered an anchor of the Marquette neighborhood and its immediate surroundings.

"I've even heard Realtors use the co-op in their sales pitch," says Rankin. "They know it can be a selling point for people."

"This is a very unique, self-sufficient neighborhood," adds Firszt, ticking off a list of nearby attractions, including such restaurants as Coyote Capers, Bon Appetit, Lao Laan-Xang and Bahn Thai, as well as a hardware store, liquor store, and gas station. "I don't like to take my business anywhere else--everything I need is right here," she says.

The co-op has also helped pave the way for the recent revitalization of Willy St., as seen in the refurbished Ely building that now houses Ground Zero coffeehouse and Monty Schiro's Eldorado Grill, as well as the new condo project going up at the corner of Few and Willy Streets.

According to Ald. Judy Olson, Willy Street Co-op's thriving presence is tempting to other businesses who are still unsure of the area's potential for growth. Olson also stresses the commitment the co-op has shown by staying in the Marquette neighborhood. "By building a bigger store in the former Eagle's Club, the co-op is showing its true colors," she says. "Showing its loyalty to its members and to the entire neighborhood."

Olson says the co-op has also been a good neighbor as construction has proceeded on the new building. The co-op consulted folks at Common Wealth Development for advice on how to deal with the potential slew of trucks that would travel down Jenifer Street en route to the co-op's new loading dock. The co-op eventually decided to redesign the parking lot, with the loading dock on the side, so that all trucks and cars will access it only from Williamson Street.

"I know that this change in plans extended their design time, but again, it shows the co-op's strong commitment to the community." says Olson.

When Rankin and seven others pooled what little financial resources they had in 1977 to start the co-op at 1014 Williamson Street their purpose was two-fold: to bring fresh, organic produce to near east-side residents and to participate in a new economic system that was gaining steam. "We liked to say that it wasn't necessary to overthrow the capitalistic economic system, but to do something better," says Rankin. "And ‘better' meant opening a co-op."

A co-op, according to the International Co-op Alliance, is an autonomous association of persons united to meet their common economic, social, and cultural needs through a jointly-owned and democratically-controlled enterprise. But the reality of running a co-op is another thing. While many folks worked for free as volunteers, several in the core group of founders were on salary, and they didn't receive a paycheck for the first three months the store was open. (The typical pay was $50 dollars a week.) And though their dairy supplier donated free coolers to the co-op, the repairs on the coolers' old, faulty wiring was costly. "Breaking even," says Rankin, "was simply unfathomable."

Still, co-op shopping was catching on, and a sense of community revolved around the store. "Many friendships were formed during those early years," says Rankin. "People would come and volunteer or just hang out--there was a real sense of belonging." But space continued to be a nagging problem, and the co-op moved three years later to its present address.

By 1985, the co-op had once again outgrown itself--1,500 square feet couldn't hold the new influx of produce, cheese, dried goods, vitamins, bath products, and kitchen gadgets. "Clyde's Appliance Store moved out of the right-hand side and we expanded into two storefronts, doubling our space," notes Rankin, who had left the summer before the construction began.

More than a decade passed before the rumblings about space began again. The co-op's current shelving allows for only a few jars of curry paste or juice to sit out at a time, so products often run out quickly. Locating the back stock can be tricky since the storage room is usually brimming with bottles and cans.

And the co-op's narrow aisles make navigation especially tricky for families with kids in tow. Willy Street's employees were frustrated, too, by the lack of work space--no real loading dock to speak of, small coolers and freezers. There was no room to merchandise new products properly and, then, of course, there was the lack of parking.

This dissatisfaction culminated in the decisive March 1997 vote by the co-op membership to build a new, larger building: of the 1,075 members who voted, 1,035 voted thumbs up. Two prior expansion attempts had been voted down, including one from 1995 that would have turned Few Street into a cul de sac. The 1997 vote was a clear signal that the co-op's owners were ready for a change. Firszt also credits the co-op board's detailed plan proposing the Eagle's Club site with the member turnaround. The plan included using the sale of bonds as a source of revenue for the project, which wasn't to exceed a total of 3.5 million for the purchase of the building plus its inventory. According to Firszt, plans for a second floor mezzanine office area have been abandoned; otherwise, costs haven't exceeded the budget.

"Those who voted in favor stipulated that they wanted a bigger store, though not a huge store," says Firszt. "They didn't want us to open a second location, and they didn't want us to move further than two blocks. The Eagle's Club site was the best opportunity that could have come along."

The boom in the natural foods industry and organic produce sales over the last decade has been a double-edged sword for co-ops like Willy St.

On the one hand, says Greg Lawless, an Outreach Specialist at the Center for Cooperatives, "the demand for natural foods in this country is expanding rapidly." But, he adds, "You also have more and more businesses supplying that consumer need."

For a food co-op to compete in that environment, says Lawless, "it has to try to keep its prices down, offer good service, and a wide selection of quality products. It's difficult to stay small and do that."

The co-op has fared well during the natural foods boom years by carrying a large selection of organic products, including fresh fruits and vegetables, canned sauces and cereals (the new store will also feature free-range meats).

It has also prospered by continuing to meet the needs of its aging membership. "Back in the 70s, there weren't a lot of 45-year-olds shopping with their kids in a co-op," says Jody Padgham, another outreach specialist at the UW's Center for Cooperatives. "Co-ops have to mature as well, in order to handle a new age sector."

And that means carrying convenient, ready-to-eat cuisine. Padgham, who was the grocery buyer at Mifflin Street Co-op from 1984 to 1997, says she started supplementing her orders for bulk goods over the years with more prepared or prepackaged fare. She also started adding items for kids, like string cheese, fruit roll-ups and applesauce. Through it all, she tried to balance the needs and philosophies of a diverse membership.

"I never put in an order for that fluffy, squishy white bread, but because there were a lot of requests, I ordered white bread flour so people could bake their own loaves," says Padgham. "Many of our customers, though, were not too thrilled when they saw it. But to balance things out, I made a sign comparing the nutritional value between white and whole wheat flour, hoping that people might give whole wheat a try."

Still, adding any items, especially controversial ones, can lead to ideological struggles. Padgham says education is key to achieving that delicate balance between personal tastes and nutritional, political and environmental standards. Signs, pamphlets, books, and a community space for workshops or cooking classes like the one at the new Willy Street location, she says, are all good educational tools.

But, does bigger always mean better? It's a toss-up for some who dwell in the Willy Street environs or make a concerted effort to shop there. Catherine Capellaro has been an eastside resident for more than seven years and shops at the co-op daily for fresh produce and bread. "Though that juice bar is exciting, part of me is sad that the intimacy of this place will be gone," she says. "I feel at home when I shop here--I always, always, run into people I know and have a good time talking with them."

Yet Capellaro, who gave birth to twin boys in July, didn't relish the idea of having to push a double-wide stroller through the store. "The denial had to end about the small space. And the congestion in line was getting to be too much," says Capellaro. "I do hope that somehow the new store will reach broader demographics. People always comment on how diverse our neighborhood is. Right now, it feels like only white, middle-class people shop at Willy Street."

Jerry Chernow, a founder and partner of the Lakeside Press since 1981, voices another split opinion about the expansion of Willy Street Co-op. While enthused about a new salad bar, Chernow finds himself questioning what, exactly, a co-op is supposed to stand for, now that the trend towards growth has been established. "I don't know what co-ops are supposed to be anymore," he says. "Does a co-op really need to be all things to all people?"

Chernow also misses the stronger presence of food politics at Willy Street. "The content of their newsletter is not nearly what it used to be," says Chernow. "Now it seems more like marketing strategies, telling people what's on sale. I miss the articles that tout the benefits of organic foods and illustrate the harmfulness of chemicals." And Chernow is disappointed that the practice of charging a banana tax of 1%--the extra money is sent to groups working on labor issues in Central and South America--disappeared in the early 90s without much, if any, outcry from Willy Street's members.

"Charging that extra tax was a real political statement," says Chernow. "I know it can be hard to hold fast to food politics, and Willy Street has done a great job of working really hard to carry local food. I wouldn't mind seeing them back more boycotts," he says.

Mifflin Street Co-op, Willy St.'s downtown counterpart, still charges a 1% banana tax. Founded in 1969, Mifflin has always maintained a stronger political presence that Willy. For starters, it is organized as a collective--all staff members are paid the same wages, receive the same benefits, and partake in decision-making.

"The co-op was founded with that style of management in mind," says Dave Finet, Mifflin's grocery buyer. "People wanted to change a part of the fundamental structure of the capitalist market. And this style of management works. Plus, the members still believe in it and support it."

Finet says he's not sure what impact the new Willy St. co-op will have on Mifflin, though people have expressed concern to him.

"What we need to remember," says Finet, "is that any time a co-op does well, that's a good thing. And I know that Willy Street doesn't intend to be competitive directly with us--that would go against the cooperative principle of solidarity among co-ops. We have a lot of support back and forth with people using their memberships at either store.

"You know what my hope is?" Finet asks, grinning. "My hope is that the new Willy Street co-op will make a huge impact on Whole Foods."

As for Steve Rankin, who snipped open the first sack of rice some 25 years ago at the first Willy Street Co-op, he's feeling a bit nostalgic.

"I feel like a proud parent. Or maybe I should say grandparent," chuckles Rankin. "Being able to serve the majority of the Willy Street neighborhood's food needs seemed only like a dream when we opened. I'm so happy that the co-op went from being a marginal business to an anchor in one of the best neighborhoods in Madison."