How Will Hank Survive?
One of the things I love about the part of St. Paul that I live in is that it has an almost archetypal neighborhood feel to it. There are mom and pop shops all over my part of town of various sorts. Art shops, ice cream shops, music stores...and hardware stores. Boy, does St. Paul have hardware stores.
Within a three mile radius of my house, there are probably over a dozen independent small hardware stores. Most are what you would call your typical hardware store: paint, screws, maybe a glass-cutting service, maybe some lawn care products. You can't get lumber at any of them, though you can get tools at more than one.
A lot of these independent stores fall into the Hardware Hank family. Hardware Hank isn't an actual person, as far as I know. He's really just a figurehead for an association of independent hardware stores, sort of how some independent grocery stores are in the IGA family. Just a way for the little guys to band together and be a bit stronger than they might be otherwise.
I imagine back in the day, when you went to the hardware store, chances were you were either going to a Hardware Hank-affiliated store, or one that was just like it that for one reason or another wasn't a part of Hank's family. Maybe one was an Ace Hardware, or a True Value. But the stores more or less were all the same-small stores run by people who might very well live across the street from you. Mom and Pop all the way.
Things have changed. Stores like Home Depot and Menards have moved into the burbs, and with them they have brought not only lumber and tools and remodeling services, but lower prices. You can get everything you need at a Home Depot. Everything. Hell, they'll even do some of the work for you, or deliver the materials, if you pay them.
Hardware Hank can't do that.
This isn't exactly news. Big box retail hurts mom and pop shops. There's no mystery there. But up unti recently, the two seem to have coexisted in St. Paul. I think a lot of people are content to go to the Home Depot for the big stuff, but it's a bit of a drive for us city folk. Need a tape measure? Need some nails? Hardware Hank is my man, and I've got plenty of stores to choose from.
Of course, that tape measure is going to be about 30% more at Hank's place...but what the heck, right? I don't want to drive out to Eagan, and I like giving some money to Mom and Pop. I can afford the prices long as my list isn't too long...
How does Hank survive in this economy? I go in, and I might see one other person in there. Like me, they are probably buying one item, something like a bottle of Tung Oil (for $9!). Hank is surviving on the hardware equivalent of the Milk Run. Maybe bread, too. But that's it. How do they turn over their inventory? How do they make money?
It might get worse for Hank. Home Depot has been making a lot of noise about having a store smack in the middle of St. Paul, a mere two miles from my house. Would I still go to Hank for that tape measure then? Would I even have the option?
A part of me wants that Home Depot nearby. I don't feel good about that. But it's out of my hands, you see. It will either come, or it won't. I tell myself I don't have any say in the matter.
In the meantime, I patronize Hank whenever possible. I know he needs me.
On my last visit, as I walked in I saw three generations behind the desk. Pop, and Son, and Grandsons. Three generations.
I walked the aisles for a moment, aimlessly. Twice, two different neighborhood kids that work there asked if I needed help. "No, thanks. Just looking." It's amazing how much stuff they carry in these little stores. The prices have to be high, because they can't order in any volume at all. But the selection is there. Finally, after taking it all in and feeling amazed at what Hank still has, I meandered over to the paint section.
I only needed paint rollers. I grabbed a three-pack and walked to the counter. As I inadvertently made eye contact, the old man asked: "Just the rollers. Will that be it?" He knew the score. I was obviously doing some painting. Must be a big job, if I need three rollers. If I hadn't bought the paint or the tarps or the brushes or the pans or anything else here, he knew well enough where I bought them. He knew the only reason I was standing in front of his tiny counter, listening to Dell Shannon's "Runaway" playing on the solid state in the store window, was because I hadn't bought enough at the big store. Hank's been living off of our forgetful shopping trips for years now.
Behind the old man were his son and grandsons, watching a golf tournament on an old 13" black and white TV. On the wall behind them was a mish-mash of all manner of toys. One Nerf football, one real one. A pair of plastic roller skates bundled up in a pink nylon net. A couple yo-yo's, and a bunch of other crap straight out of the toy aisle at a grocery store. And then I saw the thing that I knew I wanted, that I knew I would never be able to buy at Home Depot.
"I'd like one of the balsa wood gliders, too, please."
I handed Hank my money. I know his name's probably not really Hank, but that's how I think of him. And, now that I think about it, I didn't give Hank any money, either. I gave him my credit card. Typical. The bell on the door clanged as I stepped back out into the sunlight and traffic of Snelling Avenue.
The grandsons were about 10. I wonder if I'll ever be asking them for gliders, and wanting to call them Hank?
1:11:45 PM 
|
