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July 20, 2001/Tamuz 29, 5761, Vol. 53, No.41
Cocktails inspire civic duty
ALISA BERMAN
Special Sections Editor
My mother's childhood synagogue at Third Avenue and McDowell Road is now a pawnshop. At the entrance to the sanctuary where she became a bat mitzvah stands a large doll that looks like a gorilla. This does not fond memories make.
I have never been active in the community - Jewish or secular. There have been many governmental actions that have shocked me or surprised me, and there are definitely things I would like to change, but nothing got me out of the house and into the offices of city government until I heard they wanted to tear down the Chez Nous to make way for yet another Osco Drug store.
Suddenly I found myself enduring a 4 1/2-hour zoning committee hearing. My friends, whom I rounded up to support the Chez Nous, laughed with me: there we were, finally doing our civic duty... to save a bar.
Initially, we observed that the zoning committee seemed disinterested in the proceedings. Granted, this was an unpaid, volunteer committee, and discussing residential density caps in Laveen for two hours may only be compelling to residents of Laveen.
We assumed, from their body language and manner, that the Chez Nous didn't have a shot. These people were hard-liners, we thought. They won't be interested in saving a bar.
In whispers, we hearkened back to when Phoenicians rallied behind the Cine Capri, a well-loved, circa 1960s movie theater. The Cine Capri wasn't just a narrow hallway leading to small, featureless rooms. Its single screen brought hundreds of people together to experience cinema.
Yet no amount of petition signing and grumbling could stop it from being replaced with a silver-windowed office building. But who needs a unique venue like the Cine Capri, right? Now, in its place, we have an underground parking garage, an expensive chain coffee shop and a steakhouse. Things you can't get anywhere else.
Phoenix couldn't save the Cine Capri, so how on earth could we save a bar? Even a bar like the Chez Nous, where you're transported back in time with its retro atmosphere and music. Cupping each other's ears, we whispered, "It's more than just a bar, it's our touchstone, our favorite way to spend a Saturday night." There's no class system at the Chez Nous. People of all colors dance and mingle with nary a thought to someone's financial portfolio.
Around 10 p.m., the Osco representative addressed the committee. He presented plans that showed a large, plain building prominently positioned where the Chez Nous has stood since 1963, at the corner of Seventh Avenue and Indian School Road. Osco's commanding beige exterior would beckon to consumers who needed cat food and nail clippers; consumers who wouldn't have to drive another mile or so to get to one of three nearby Oscos.
To our surprise, the committee was appalled by the proposed site plan. They called it "bad planning," "homogenized" and "not urban" and scoffed when they learned it was designed in Idaho - not known for being a bastion of urban design.
Perhaps, we thought, we had a chance.
But our hopes were quickly dashed as we learned Osco had already purchased the property. This hearing was merely to rezone it to allow delivery trucks to enter the site without having to make a three-point turn behind the Taco Bell, which, unlike the Chez Nous, would stay.
To add insult to injury, the store had requested 70-some parking spaces, when it only needed 41.
As the Chez Nous' proponents took their turns speaking, a palpable energy erupted in the tired crowd. A lawyer, an architect-in-training, a resident of Scottsdale (gasp!) and a good number of articulate young people had their heartfelt comments greeted by applause from the crowd.
Though the Chez Nous would likely be razed, we thought, perhaps their statements would send the message to corporate behemoths like Osco that some people don't like their practices.
And then, around 11 p.m., the tide turned. The formerly disinterested committee was making changes that would favor the Chez Nous. The new zoning would be approved, but only with the stipulation that the Chez Nous would be maintained in its original location or else moved, in its entirety, at Osco's expense.
I thought, why don't we do this more often? Zoning hearings aren't so bad once they get to what we want to talk about. And is it too late for Phoenix? What about other old buildings that have been razed or passed over in favor of newer and bigger?
Zoning hearings, held in downtown Phoenix at late hours during the workweek, with their uncomfortable chairs and technical language, seem engineered to discourage citizen involvement.
Likewise, neighborhood groups and local residents are often the last to know about the new office building that's going up in place of their favorite vintage bookstore or furniture gallery.
And despite the efforts of a determined few, Osco may choose not to rezone. Still, at least something was said.
So the next time I see a big white sign go up where I like to hang out, I'm going to think of my mother and that big gorilla, and of the 2,500 who signed a petition to save a kitschy bar.
Frankly, I don't think replacing something of character with a drive-through pharmacy really makes the neighborhood a better place to be.
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