Walking Birch around the neighborhood this morning I noticed that several of the trees had dumped all of their leaves at the same time. I think this is a ginko thing. I don't know; I just like saying "It's a ginko thing."

Rain and sleet and snow. November came in like a lout sent by the boss to go to a shop that's balking at paying protection. Knock over a few things. Menace a customer or two. Nothing big. Just let him know the score.

Anyone know the CEO of Cuffbuh? That would be CUfB, the supermarket chain whose name meant Consumers United for Bargains. Or CUB for short. The “Consumers United” part tells you it was a Carter-era idea, making you think it was sorta kinda co-opy, but without the smelly guys who were always yammering on about yentils. Or lentils. Whatever they were.

I mention this because I would like to sit down and talk with him about how the company spoiled its brand in the eyes of one consumer, who is not united anymore, bargains or no.

The chain is in the news, for reason you’d expect: increased competition in the brutal low-margin business, with a new lower-price chain coming in to shake up the market. Get this for a niche: CUB prices, without the junky ethos. Upscaled stores with low prices. It’s called Hy-Vee, which I assume is an old name for High Value, and I went there once with great expectations. It didn’t grab me, for one of those reasons that probably makes their marketing team tear out their hair that such people exist: I didn’t like the aesthetics of the store brands.

They know I’m out there. They can’t do anything about me; they can only hope my numbers are small and I’m too finicky to reproduce in great numbers.

But: I am open to persuasion. In fact, if a Hy-Vee opened up nearby, I’d drop Cub like a sprouted, mealy potato that’s been sitting in the bin for a year - but I would still steer business to the local chain in my immediate neighborhood, which promises exceptional quality and convenience, and charges accordingly. I would still go to Lunds, the highest-demo chain in town, but only when they have sales. I would still go to Target, because Target. But the Cub portion of my food dollar, which is not insignificant, would be swapped out for Hy-Vee in a second.

Why? Because the Cub store in my neighborhood is a junky dump.

Cub knows this. When Hy-Vee comes into their territory, they remodel the stores, and I hear they’re quite nice. But they’ve no plans to remodel the store in my neighborhood, because the majority of the people who go there are lower-income, and where else are they going to go, eh? So who cares.

Here’s a floor display:

Enticing! I wanted to get some bacon, because they have good prices on bacon sometimes, and hello Caracas:

You’re thinking wow, that’s not a lot of bacon - but surely they have some rotten bacon for sale. You would be correct.

In the ETHNIC aisle, some check-out counters, disassembled. No room in the back, I guess.

There’s not another store in town that would put this crap out in the aisles, but this one does. Now let’s move to ice cream, because they frequently have a really good price on the brand I buy. Oh great! Sale! Oh crap: there was a sale.

The scrounds in the slots do not correspond to the names on the shelf. No one restocks with any particular haste at this store, I’ve noticed. There’s not a manager walking up and down the aisles with a walkie-talkie like Kowalski’s, ordering stock boys front and center to fill out the shelves.

I guess they’re out of whatever this was:

In short: Cub doesn’t care. I should note that the staff by the self check-out are cheerful and helpful, which is nice. But by then I just want to get out.

Mr. CEO, there’s more. Your store brands are depressing. Now, Culinary Circle is good; it’s aspirational. But you have soup and cereal and drinking straws under the same brand, Everyday Essentials. The packaging is cheap and homely. I get it, I get it - the utilitarian aspect of the design says “you’re spending less, let’s be honest, and it’ll do,” but look at how Target refreshed its entire “Market Pantry” house-brand line. Consistent colors across the line, everything pops. It doesn’t say “you can’t afford the good stuff that looks nice.” It’s attractive, , and it no longer has a class aspect - i.e., a brand either flatters your class identification, depressingly reinforces it, or gives you an aspiration to the goods of a higher class. Target doesn’t play that game anymore. Cub can’t even realize how low-rent their house brand looks.

Over ten years ago on this very site I told the grocery industry that there was a retro-vintage niche aching to be filled - modern stores with 50s style, Muzak on the speakers instead of tired piped-in pop no one wanted to listen to, a renewed post-war vibe that said California and Push-Button Living, with all the mod-cons.

There’s still time. Dump the Carter-era vibe, chain-wide. Paint the concrete floors, lose the warehouse aesthetic. Lower the ceilings! That doesn’t mean “cheap prices” anymore! Kill the name and bring back your corporate name:

SuperValu.

Hell, buy Red Owl’s old trademarks and use that. Trust me. We’d come back. As it stands? Every time I go to the store, I feel like a dog relieving himself in the winter: do your business fast and move along.

More rescued photos from the antique store. This one. in the process of rescuing, took on a painterly cast.

No name on the picture, and why would there be? Everyone who had the picture knew who she was.

This seems too big for a candid.

Wonder where she was.

Fourteen thousand souls. The Nursery Capital of the World, due to the number of places where flowers are grown: over 700.

To paraphrase the song: something happened here. What it was, we’re not exactly clear.

A lot of the town has reverted to its original state, if you judge from this. There’s an era in a town’s growth where a fire isn’t fatal, but actually spurs a new era - old wood buildings replaced quickly with brick structures, a sense of pride and grit expressed in the new structures. But let four, five decades pass, and a lot of these places don’t bounce back. Something burns, or becomes unstable, and it’s gone with no replacement. Just a scar.

The W.H. and Edgar Madness Library:

A rather thick history, here. It says that W.H. Magness put up the money for the first permanent library in 1931. Edgar isn’t mentioned in the history at all.

In any case, it’s a building at odds with the first picture, no? You can’t judge based on one or two. That’s why we’re making our snap judgment after 14 pictures.

The Regal Begal.

Doesn’t seem to be a going concern, but there’s something else that deserves attention.

Dinty Moore! Your first name in hash.

Why? Named after the character in the “Bringing Up Father” comic strip?

Nice sign, though. You wonder if the Hormel company nixes any attempt to open a restaurant that takes advantage of the existing signage.

The seventies called, they want NOTHING BACK. Because they are ASHAMED.

Bank, of course. That, or a public service building.

Not the original name. I can guess what happened: a big store went out - a five-and-dime chain, maybe - and they put in small spaces for small local retailers who sold books and candles and stationery, and it limped along until everyone left and it was an embarrassing reminder of declining fortunes.

The term “arcade” used to mean shopping centers, but transitioned to video-game palaces for a while. That’s the usage I still have in my head, even though I know better.

Who owns the Gro around here?

Nice sign; a repaint of an old sign. Dugan’s is gone.

An original, unmolested Pure Oil station in its storybook-house style.

Always seemed like an odd choice of architectural vernaculars.

Planters! Planters and patterned sidewalks. That’ll bring ‘em back.

Works every time.

Every time.

Don’t forget the authentic streetlights, which probably replaced the ghastly gooseneck things you put up in the early 50s, bathing everything in florescent light.

Sometimes even a Potemkin facade would be better. Whatever urban energy the Main Street manages to generate just evaporates when it comes to corners like this.

Aw, dammit:

No, hold on - it’s been restored since the Google cameras went past.

Cinema Treasures:

The Park Theater was opened October 18, 1939 by the Cumberland Amusement Co. a subsidiary of the Nashville based Crescent Amusement Co. On September 17, 1947 it suffered a disastrous fire at the stage end of the building. It was renovated and reopened July 18, 1948. It was closed in 1986, and the theater stood vacant for many years

One comment made me snort: Huh?

it closed the second week of September in 1986, the cartoon movie Transformers being the last images on the massive screen. Our Park Theatre Group is currently working to restore the Neo-Classical styled Park Theatre into a multi-purpose facility that retains the best of its heritage while offering a venue for live events as well as classic movies or other on screen efforts.

Neo-classical styled?

Have a look around and see if I missed anything. I usually do.

That'll do; see you around.