A&E

Facing weeks of shutdown, the Arts District’s businesses consider their options

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Boarded-up businesses covered in murals are shown on Main Street.
Photo: Wade Vandervort

You can park most anywhere. On a normal Saturday afternoon, the spots lining Main Street are filled. That’s the first indicator something isn’t right.

The second tell? The sheets of plywood boarding up the windows—though this being the Arts District, it’s covered with fresh murals. One depicts a giant Pac-Man gobbling up the red-plumed coronavirus; another features Jeff Bridges from The Big Lebowski, next to a promise: “ReBar will reopen soon.” (Flanking The Dude is a blunt, almost forlorn declaration: “All alcohol, valuables and toilet paper have been removed.”)

“I know that some people think we’re getting a little too extreme with boarding up, but the power was off most of the morning; all of our alarms were off,” ReBar owner Derek Stonebarger explains. “All the businesses that have opted to board up are either reaching out to me or I’m reaching out to them, and we have a bunch of artists who are working on them. I’m just giving them a small stipend, a little bit of cash. I’m giving them some paint. Then I’m going to try to buy back the wood, so the business can get the money back from the wood they had to put up. Eventually, the goal is to hold an art show of the work from the boarded windows and try to sell those, but who knows when that’s going to happen.”

Stonebarger lets out a weary sigh. “Who knows what’s going to happen next? It’s getting crazy out there.”

At press time, few Arts District businesses were operating. Cornish Pasty and Garagiste Wine Bar were still offering to-go orders. Makers & Finders had set up an espresso stand in front of its closed shop, with people waiting to be served while standing at a distance from it and each other. But those are the outliers in a district of boarded-up bars, storefronts and galleries, and it’s a worrisome state for a neighborhood that was just hitting its stride. The businesses of the Arts District, like thousands of others across the Valley, are facing this costly shutdown, nervously waiting on federal assistance. It’s not pessimism to believe that many of them won’t bounce back.

“Realistically, any business that wasn’t getting along with their landlord, or their landlord doesn’t want them in there, this is an opportunity for them to just say, ‘This is it; this is the end. You’re not coming back,’ ” Stonebarger says.

That sinking realization has driven Arts District proprietors to dig deeper into their own pockets.

“I’ve been funding this gallery myself,” says Priscilla Fowler, owner of Priscilla Fowler Fine Art. “When I first opened, I read somewhere it could take five to 10 years to get a business established and viable. I’m [nearly at] three and a half now. So, I started to think: Should I keep spending my money, or should I look for underwriters or loans?” She met with a lawyer and business adviser, who advised her to move fast.

Fowler’s dedication in the face of this catastrophe is a common Arts District trait. No one is ready to give up the fight, even though it’s unknown how long the fight will last. “Everything’s just so up in the air,” Velveteen Rabbit co-owner Christina Dylag says. “We helped our employees out for a couple of weeks, and then we’ll just have to reassess. ... We’ll have to be innovative if the [shutdown] period is longer than a month or two. Within the urban lounge license, you can sell packaged liquor. So, if we need to, we can take different measures to stay afloat, but it’ll be problematic, because we probably won’t be able to keep a whole staff.”

Velveteen Rabbit has already displayed nimble thinking; for a short time after the lockdown began, it offered “Pandemic Party Packs”—packages containing premixed cocktails—but had to stop. “We ran out of vessels,” Dylag says.

The spot has since turned to T-shirt sales as a source of revenue (stores.inksoft.com/velveteenrabbit/shop/home). Fowler is uploading photos of her art to the gallery’s Artsy page (artsy.net/priscilla-fowler-fine-art). And Stonebarger has reimagined ReBar as a drive-thru liquor store and bodega; ordering is available at boardwalkliquors.com. He’s also bringing back ReBar’s popular reserve-a-stein program: He’ll be able to “get a thousand-plus steins into ReBar” after a remodel, with half the proceeds going to staff.

The financial crush isn’t the only thing weighing on Main Street’s proprietors. “I had a scare today—one of my helpers was going to come in, but she got a cough,” Fowler says. “I quickly got on the phone and said, ‘Nobody come in! Wait at least another week and a half until the incubation period is clear. Then we can think about what we’re going to do.’ ”

That persistent anxiety made Vincent Rotolo, owner of Good Pie, think twice about continuing on even as a takeout-only operation.

“Business was fine. Our last week we had probably our best week of the year,” he says. “But we didn’t really feel comfortable operating like that. … I spoke to my team, and they all agreed that right now is the time to be home with our families and to be doing everything we can to minimize the spread. I support businesses that are open, and I respect everyone who continues to operate, but for me, it just didn’t feel good.”

Rotolo is taking the opportunity to work on his new Main Street location, and he remains optimistic about its prospects. “When this all blows over, I’m gonna hire 20 people,” he says. “We’re confident that as soon as this situation clears up and businesses start to reopen, we’ll be open on Main Street and we’ll be able to continue to serve the community.”

Dylag, too, has a project to keep her occupied: the imminent publication of her book, the appropriately titled Tiny Little Boxes: How to Cope with Existential Dread by Way of Ice Cream and Other Means. In coping with this particular dread, she’s trying to look at it as a reaffirmation of character: “When I look at the street being empty and the stores boarded up, I don’t see it as a negative thing,” she says. “It’s just showing how much of the community is participating in quarantine and social distancing. … I choose to stay positive and to really reflect on what we’re doing. ... When this is over, do we want to participate in life in the same way that we have been? And what can we do to better enrich our lives going forward?”

Those are important questions, and perhaps it’s vain to hope we’ll be able to reflect on them in Main Street’s bars, restaurants and galleries this summer. But if there’s any lesson to be gleaned from the Arts District’s rise—from a street of mostly closed storefronts to a bustling, lively district, a jewel of this city—it’s that miracles can appear most anywhere, at any time.

Tags: News, coronavirus
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