81. The Rise & Fall of Co-op East

In 1977, I saw a notice in our local newspaper posted by a woman who wanted to host a brain-stormer about forming a food co-op. It could be the first to serve the communities across Lake Washington, east of Seattle.  I attended the meeting with about 30 others and the enthusiasm was very high. For years, many of us Eastsiders who valued organic whole foods had either joined buying clubs or driven several miles to Seattle’s Puget Consumer Co-op (PCC) store. It seemed like there was momentum for change.

Someone at the meeting suggested that we ask if PCC might want to open a second store on the Eastside, or at least lend us money and guidance. “You’d think they’ve be eager to support another new co-op,” he said. But the host said she’d already looked into that, and got a cool response from the PCC manager.

She explained, “He told me that if his board did want to expand, he doubted they would approve an Eastside location over some better choices. When I pressed further, he scoffed and revealed his bias, ‘The Eastside? Seriously? The land of business suits and BMW’s? Would anyone even come in to shop? Sorry, I don’t see an organization like ours fitting on your side of the lake.’”

For many years, PCC has run a successful non-profit market of quality foods and other goods. Members pay dues, vote for board seats and have some say in policy and planning. But more than being a good deal for consumers, PCC also stands up for social change, particularly fair trade—that is, they support small farms and cottage industries, minority-owned enterprise, decent wages for farm workers, non-exploitive working conditions, safe environmental practices, and a clean and ethical food industry. The theory being that large corporations have little incentive to consider any of that over profit.

When posed with our request for help, I think the PCC manager couldn’t imagine that a bunch of blow-dried-designer jeans-401K-Eastside Yuppies would know anything about the “great struggles” of society that he would say make co-ops relevant. Or that we’d even know how to form and operate a grocery business.  While they had an extremely misguided characterization of the Eastside community, they were spot-on about us not knowing what we were doing.

Our leader was not deterred by rejection. She rolled up her sleeves and had already drawn up a concept on a big sheet of butcher paper for the first meeting. Dubbed Co-op East, it would be more than a grocery store. The vision was a community center with spaces for mercantile, books and gardening. Additionally, there would be a café or deli, office spaces and classrooms for community use, a childcare area, an open space forum for things like art shows or dances, a kitchen for cooking lessons, and a performance stage. In her pitch, she became very inspired, “Regardless of our politics, we all eat and we all want the best products we can afford. And as you can see in my plan, we could also have a fun and vibrant community center. I think if we pool our energy and resources, we can do this on our own, and it will be all the better for it.” The idea of having this right in Kirkland or Bellevue was very appealing to the gathering, and we quickly formed a board of directors, I as Secretary. We were so optimistic, joyously skipping into such ponderous concerns as co-op incorporation and the establishment of by-laws. 

PCC was kind enough to provide a mailing list of all their Eastside members, and we estimated that there was potentially an initial turnout of well over a hundred active member homes. We knew we needed some steady membership and seed money so we started signing up households and collecting dues and donations. Things were moving fast on this, in fact, snow-balling. 

Our spearheader, now the Board Chair, was not savvy in business. She turned out to be a little naive and impulsive. Without discussion, she thought she'd better find a place for our store and went right out and signed us into a lease on an average-sized building, an old grocery store. This caused our meeting to erupt—only a week old and the project faced its first crisis.  I don't rememeber what legal options we considered, but the lease was signed and we decided we’d better quit fiddling with the wording of a mission statement and get going on opening a store.

In the Chair’s vision, this was to be a grass-roots endeavor, and we would put together a market by sheer amateur enthusiasm. We had handy and talented volunteers, certainly they would build shelves and checkout lanes.  One member was a “picker,” someone who is really good at finding neat stuff, and she was going out to look for things like used dairy cases and produce scales. Another member was comfortable with finances and bookkeeping, so at least one of us knew what “assets and liabilities” or “P & L” actually means. One member had to eat every 15 minutes, and was always smacking his lips and crunching his celery and carrots. That irritated another to the point he scolded, "I wish you'd parboil your damned vegetables, for crying out loud!" I usually contributed levity to counter gravity, and our most senior member snored like a Harley through it all.

Sadly, the old grocery store building was pretty run down. It was obvious on our first visit that this was beyond a job for a few handy volunteers. We'd need lots of improvements by licensed contractors in order to pass inspections. So far, we only had member donations, and the treasurer's report reminded us that the lease was a constant drain. At first the other members were goggle-eye stunned, then expletives were flung. It was only then that our old snoring member woke up and suggested that we'd have to develop a real business plan and go get a loan or grant money. Unbelievably, even in the face of utter defeat, there were a couple of “No” votes on that proposal! See what I mean? Absolutely no sense of what we were doing!

And so, meetings became endless arguments between thos who still saw the project in its original concept: i.e. “it will grow naturally, out of scraps and scavenge” vs. the ones who wanted the co-op to be properly equipped and appealing to the eye on day one. After all, remember, our customers would include those blow-dried Yuppies!

I think the last 1000 feet to the summit of Everest must be a mosey across the lawn compared to our meeting that led to the final decision. It was obvious we were going down to defeat. It was time to call in the big guns.

Nearly a year after we started out, a joint meeting was arranged with the board members of Co-op East and PCC. Our idea was to throw ourselves at their feet and tearfully beg for swift financial and professional help. It was the last ditch.

PCC looked over what we’d accomplished (which wasn’t much beyond the original lovely butcher paper sketch.) Again, their assessment was that we had no idea what the hell we were doing. However, we did have one asset: a community of hopeful shoppers who indicated they wanted a convenient co-op and were willing to quit driving to PCC in Seattle. It irked them, but the PCC board voted to take over our lease, bring in their crews and get the place open quickly. Co-op East, Inc. was dissolved along with our vision of a vibrant community center. Our further assistance was not required. The store would be named PCC Kirkland, and run their way. No room for nonsense like demo kitchen, classrooms, a stage or café—all ruled out. But wait a minute…

Fast forward a year or so later, the Kirkland store was already outgrowing its space. Somehow, they found room for a deli and a garden center. I don’t know if the naysaying PCC board members were duly impressed, but the Eastside customer base was looking pretty good. After all, affluent shoppers do seem to spend more!

As of this date, four more stores have been opened in other Eastside locations, for a total of 16 around greater Seattle.  They’re pretty slick and classy looking now, hardly what you’d expect from the old no-frills activist group.

Get this: more recently, the Kirkland store was moved to an upscale location closer in to town. It includes a stylish café, a full schedule of classes from yoga to yogurt-making, a teaching kitchen, and an open-air stage for community use. Hmm! Don’t you wonder where they got those ideas?