Week 25: Downtown Revitalization and the CHC

So many buildings in Black Grass that once housed thriving business now sat empty. What was once a downtown area teaming with activity now had streets virtually abandoned. Across from Jones’ Barber Shop sat the former location of Gleeson Drug & Fine Goods. This stalwart of Black Grass closed around fifteen years ago, but in its heyday was a booming business, serving food and providing a high end mail order service. Mr. Walker at the bank has told the story several times of being a young boy, and spending Christmas Eve nights in the bank with his father, the town’s banker at the time. Stores like Gleeson’s would do most of their business on the day before Christmas and then bring their cash into the bank late that night for safekeeping. 

Daniel and Blair walked hand in hand along Main St., looking at these empty storefronts and daydreaming about the potential for downtown. The couple had talked non-stop about the opportunities for growth and innovation in the region after their trip during Spring Break. This resulted in Blair applying for a position with a local non-profit that focused on improving the living conditions for children in Black Grass. She decided to soak up more of the local energy with her boyfriend before her interview later that day. 

“Babe, take a look over there,” she said, pointing to Gleeson’s. 

Daniel filled her in on the history of the space, as best he knew. Even he had memories of going in as a young boy, eating egg salad sandwiches and playing arcade games that were a late addition to the space. “I bought my first comic books here, I think,” he added. 

“That’s what we need in terms of purposeful, creative placemaking. Imagine using that space now as a coffee shop with a performance area, and have local artists and crafters on consignment selling their wares. You could do poetry nights, wine tastings, interpretive dance.” She was speaking rapidly, excited with her own ideas. 

He put his hand on Blair’s back and pulled her in for a hug. “Slow down there, sweetie. Very cool ideas, sure. But you’re about ten steps ahead of yourself. How are we gonna pay for all this?”

She beamed up at him, smiling ear to ear. “Oh! We can find the money. There’s grants, and loans. Plus the three F’s are always an option.”

“Three F’s?”

“Family, Friends and Fools!”

Daniel turned to face his girlfriend. “You’re being serious, aren’t you.”

“Babe, I know you didn’t believe me when I said I wanted to move with you to Peril County. I know you laughed a little at me when I said I thought that the two of us could make a difference here. But I believe in you. I believe in us and I think this is the perfect place to do the work I’ve been dreaming about since I started working in creative placemaking.” She took his hands into her own and leaned into his chest. “I want this. And I want to do it with you.”

A little later, the two sat across from each other in a booth at Martha’s Diner, sharing a basket of fries and a couple of chocolate milkshakes. Martha’s was another staple of downtown Black Grass, with the best smash burger’s this side of the Cumberland Gap. Martha still worked the cash register from 7am to 4pm Monday through Saturday. 

“You ready for your interview?” Daniel asked as he picked up the cherry from the top of his shake and popped it into his mouth. A dab of whipped cream stuck to the side of his lips. 

Blair shrugged her shoulders. “I believe so. I’ve done the research and I have a pretty solid resume for a recent collage grad. I’m not saying it’s a done deal, but c’mon!” She would never admit it, not even to Daniel, but she had already planned out the next twenty years. She would get this job at the Appalachian non-profit and be Executive Director there by thirty. Daniel would start a business out of one of these abandoned storefronts and expand across the region, diversifying as they went. They would get married in eighteen months and have their first child in three years. She would expand the reach of the non-profit from children in this community to the entire region. Their second and third children would come three and six years after the first, respectively. There’s would be a great life and they would make a real difference. 

“You still with me?” Daniel asked after Blair had spent several minutes daydreaming about her future. 

She smiled and ate a fry. “Just thinking about all the good we can do here.” 

“Get you kids anything else? We got coconut cream pie and hot fudge cake today?” Martha had snuck up on them.

Daniel looked over at Blair, and she shook her head. “Both a those sound fantastic, but I think we’re good. Thank ya, Ms. Martha.” 

Out on the street, Blair gave her boyfriend a giant kiss. “For luck!” she said.

“I’m gonna go get a haircut from Mr. Jones, then I’ll wait for you in the car. You’re gonna kill it!” he said as she walked down the street toward the Black Grass Community Help Center’s office. 

Inside, Blair found a dingy waiting room with yellow walls and furniture that was too old to be considered nice, but too tacky and damaged to be considered antiques. The upholstered chairs were a burgundy color at some point in the past, but now looked ashy and worn. There were magazines on an old coffee table, but they seemed to be as old as the furniture. There was a dankness to the air that Blair couldn’t quite explain, but it immediately set her allergies off. 

A gray-haired woman sat behind a partition between the waiting room and the office, her head sticking above the window. She looked up as Blair made her way into the room. “Can I help you, dear?” she asked with a croak.

“Blair Montgomery. I have a 1 o’clock with Mr. Peterson.” She was fighting to not let the aesthetics of the space ruin her expectations of what this place was and the good works that they claimed to do. 

There was a long and loud series of clicking on a keyboard, then a long pause. “What did you say your name was, young miss?” The receptionist had a voice like gravels rubbing against sand paper. 

“Montgomery. Blair Montgomery. I have a job interview with Mr. Peterson.” More keys clicking on the other side of the wall. 

The receptionist coughed loudly. “I’m sorry, hon. I’m not seein’ you in our calendar.”

“Is Mr. Peterson in? Maybe you could check with him?” she said, probably a little more frustrated than she had intended. 

She picked up the phone and dialed a few numbers. “Mr. Peterson, there is a Blair Mullins here to see you, but she’s not on the calendar.” Blair thought about correcting the old woman on her last name, but decided it wasn’t worth it. After a moment, she hung up the phone and looked back to Blair. “He’ll be with you in a few moments. Just have a seat.”

On the coffee table in front of her, Blair noticed a Black Grass Community Help Center Annual Report and picked it up. She knew these types of documents are great to get a feel for the kinds of work non-profits do and wanted to see if there was more information than she could find online. After a moment, she noticed it was dated for the year she finished seventh grade. There were some great photos of kids receiving Christmas presents, new shoes and even a dental cleaning, though. 

“Ms. Mullins? He’s ready to see you now,” the receptionist said through the little window. 

Mr. Peterson’s office was a shrine to Peril County sports. He had pictures, posters, jerseys and other memorabilia hanging on every wall. His desk chair was black and green striped with a panther head stitched into the back of the seat. The man at the desk was in his 50s, short, fat and balding. He wore thick glasses and had a salt and pepper goatee. He was eating a meatball sub when Blair entered the office.

“Blair Mullins? Mike Peterson. Nice to meet you.” He stood and wiped his hands on the back of his pants before extending it in her direction. She noticed she was almost a foot taller than he was. 

“It’s Montgomery. But I am very pleased to meet you as well. I was just thumbing through an old annual report on in the lobby. Looks like you guys do some amazing work.” She shook his hand and took the seat he offered her across from his own. 

He looked puzzled for a moment. “Annual report? Lord, we’ve not put one of those out in forever. But yeah, we try to help the kids. I’ve been runin’ the CHC for the past fifteen years since the founder, Mrs. Gulch, passed on. She was a good woman, and it’s her endowment that lets us do the good work that we do.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Mr. Peterson. I saw the job posting online and started doing some research. What kinds of programming does your organization focus on currently?” In truth, Blair had spent hours looking into the Black Grass Community Help Center and couldn’t find much. A bare bones website, an inactive Facebook page and a Twitter with only retweets of Peril County sports posts was it. 

Mr. Peterson rubbed his bald head. “Well, I’ll just tell you. When Mrs. Gulch was alive, CHC was really active in health initiatives like dental and overall wellness. Nutrition was a big one I remember. My oldest, Charlie, got a backpack of food every weekend as part of a program done through this office. And every year, Mrs. Gulch would do a big toy drive for needy kids. Few hundred kids would get presents. And I tried to keep up with some of that when I took over, I did. But we kept getting grant applications from the school system for things they needed and that took away from some of our other programs, I guess.”

Blair scanned the room, looking at all of the school-branded items on the wall. “You must be a big supporter of the sports teams, I suppose?” Blair didn’t mean it to be accusatory, but Mr. Peterson became a little defensive.

“The school needs that money. Our students work hard and if we can help them with travel or equipment, I do what I can. I was the manager for the football team many years ago, so I know firsthand how hard it is to keep that equipment in top shape.”

She smiled, trying to defuse the tension a bit. “I’m not saying that at all. I apologize if it came off any differently. So, tell me more about what you would need me to do around here if I join the team.” 

Peterson matched her smile. “I’m glad you picked up on the fact that we’re a team! I like to think of myself as a coach. I call the plays and the rest of the team executes what needs to be done.”

“How many employees work for CHC?” she asked. 

“Oh, it’s just me and Wanda out there.”

Blair bit her lip and forced down a little laugh. “So, what would I be doing?”

“Well, the Gulch estate requested an audit earlier in the year and the results showed that we are not focusing on the established parameters of the fund agreement as it was originally written. So, I need a new program officer to come in and work in the community to develop relationships that will create funding opportunities.” He sounded a little defeated as he said this. 

Blair furrowed her brow. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. It sounds like you need me to come in and find ways to give away money.”

Patterson took in a deep breath and let it out hard. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it. The estate has established a new board, and they have clarified in no uncertain terms that if I want to keep my job, we cannot keep just funding athletic programs and need to find more, in their words, ‘meaningful opportunities for philanthropic giving.’ So, that is what you’d be doing.”

“We’ve not discussed salary,” Blair said.

He reached for a pen and wrote a number on a yellow note card and passed it to her. She took it and read the number before looking up at him. She then looked back down at the number. Then, again, back at him.

“I can start Monday.”