Terrence Conrad is the son and grandson of grocers who ran the corner store Bond Avenue Fish and Poultry in East St. Louis. He grew up in this industrial town across the Mississippi River from St. Louis when it was busy and every property was built on. But in the last half century of the decline of the rust belt, the population of this city fell from nearly 80,000 to nearly 20,000.
However, Mr. Conrad returned after college and a career in regional planning in Pittsburgh. He continues the family’s eclectic fish, housewares, and fresh produce store – a bustling, light blue hub of activity that stands out from the surrounding vacant lots. It’s full of life – shouted greetings, laughter, conversation – and food that residents would have to drive miles to find elsewhere. It is an oasis in a food desert where the average distance to a supermarket is almost 3 miles.
“We are needed here,” says Mr. Conrad, who runs the shop with his wife Robin. “[Around here] You won’t find any fresh food. You won’t find any fresh seafood. We’re trying to stay in this area to meet the needs of the people who are here. “
Why we wrote that
As thousands of residents fled the urban troubles of East St. Louis – a once dynamic hub of industry and railroading across the Mississippi from St. Louis – Terrence Conrad came home during the latter half of the 20th century.
East St. Louis Ill.
“All right, Mrs. Conrad, it’s 9 o’clock,” Terrence Conrad calls to his wife as he closes the cooler that is filled with fish for the day. He goes to the front door, turns the key in the lock and the hustle and bustle begins.
The phone rings. The door buzzes again and again when customers wander into the overcrowded department store, where products and old-fashioned sweets line the shelves and oil funnels, paint brushes and children’s toys hang from ceiling hooks.
A young woman walks through the maze of goods to the counter and introduces herself: “I’m the granddaughter of the Humphreys,” she says.
Why we wrote that
As thousands of residents fled the urban troubles of East St. Louis – a once dynamic hub of industry and railroading across the Mississippi from St. Louis – Terrence Conrad came home during the latter half of the 20th century.
Introducing yourself to the cashier in another store is likely to cause a blank and puzzled look, but the Conrads react like they’ve met an old friend. “Oh, the firefighter!” exclaims Mrs. Conrad. “You look like your grandfather,” adds Mr. Conrad.
They wrap their fish and Ms. Conrad slips a piece of paper over the counter and says: “To give to grandma. Tell her we miss her. “
Bond Avenue Fish and Poultry is a powerful magnet for commerce and community. The business brings back memories of the golden years of the mid-20th century, when East St. Louis was a thriving transportation and industrial center. Now the city has been gutted from de-industrialization and from the white and black refugees and a largely empty, boarded-up landscape.
The lively, light blue corner store of the Conrads stands out from the surrounding vacant lots. It’s full of life – shouted greetings, laughter, conversation – and food that residents would have to drive miles to find elsewhere.
The couple has held onto their deep roots here and stayed for the reasons others left. They see a great need and not only provide essential groceries and household items, but also a place to network, build trust and see good things.
“We’re needed here,” says Mr. Conrad, who left his full-time job as a regional planner in Pittsburgh in 1977 to help his father run the store his grandfather started. “[Around here] You won’t find any fresh food. You won’t find any fresh seafood. We’re trying to stay in this area to meet the needs of the people who are here. “
Tara Adhikari / The Christian Science Monitor
Long-time customers say Terrence and Robin Conrad’s grocery store holds a neighborhood in East St. Louis together.
An oasis in a food desert
Mr. Conrad’s grandfather, Rollie Conrad, left his job in the fields of rural Mississippi in the early 20th century. When he was working for a German-Jewish grocer in East St. Louis, the older Conrad had the idea of starting his own business and rented it in 1945 a storefront on Bond Avenue. But white salespeople didn’t sell goods to a black businessman, so his ex-employer suggested Rollie simply says he still shops for the German – a workaround he had to pull through for several years. In 1954, at the height of the population of 82,000, Rollie built the shop, which is still standing today.
But factories closed in the 1960s, says Andrew Theising, professor of political science at Southern Illinois University Edwardsville, and “By 1970, East St. Louis had skyrocketing unemployment, poverty ruled, and even stories of children being involved.” Suffer hunger. ”
Today East St. Louis has fewer than 27,000 residents. In 2019, violent crime was three times the national average. A third of the population lives below the federal poverty line. And the hunger remains. According to the USDA Food Access Research Atlas, East St. Louis is a food wasteland – a significant proportion of the population have low incomes and live more than a mile from a supermarket. A 2017 survey by Make Health Happen and the University of Illinois Extension Program found that the average distance to a liquor store from public housing in East St. Louis is less than half a mile; The average distance to a grocery store was 2.96 miles.
The Conrads are working to change those numbers. In 2015, they expanded their main range beyond fish and delicatessen meat and produced – apples, oranges, bananas, cucumbers, lettuce – from local farmers.
Most of those who buy products from the Conrads run from nearby public housing and a senior citizen center. While products don’t always sell out – Mr. Conrad estimates they only sell 60-70% – this is an option that those who rely on it would otherwise not have. To make up for the loss of products that go bad, the Conrads sell at a 15% markup, which allows them to break even. If they can give the products away for free before they spoil, they will.
“They seem to do little things, but they really are big things,” says Amy Funk, a nutritional supplement instructor at the University of Illinois. “This little shop symbolizes a solution we want to see across East St. Louis and other communities with similar problems.”
Another business model
Adding fresh produce to inventory was a natural evolution of the Conrads’ philosophy: identify and meet needs. For them, it’s not just about solving food access problems. It’s about a more holistic solution that addresses both material and spiritual needs.
“When our customers come, they come for the natural food. [But] we feed them …
spiritual nourishment, ”says Mr. Conrad. “You can just talk to someone. Give them divine advice. Everything that is in the Bible you can say in your own words, but they are still divine principles. “
And they talk. Entering Bond Avenue Fish and Poultry is not meant to be a quick experience. Even when the customers are standing in line, Mr. and Mrs. Conrad concentrate fully on the person in front of them. They ask about the mother in the hospital, the son who just went to college.
Nobody gets annoyed. Nobody gets impatient.
“It’s tough for people. You really are. And you never know who you’re entertaining; … you don’t know what people go through when they walk through the door, ”says Ms. Conrad. “[A] a kind word will always do you good. “
It’s a different business model. Her son Jabari calls it Christian capitalism: “Even if you have to make a profit … there are still opportunities to make a contribution to the community.”
Stay rooted
For many East St. Louisans, the store symbolizes the greater good in the community that is not often highlighted.
“I grew up in East St. Louis all my life. I’ve never been robbed. My house has never been broken into. Nothing has ever been stolen from me on the street. I can walk the streets anytime, ”said Gary Gaston, pastor of the church just across from Bond Avenue Fish and Poultry.
“We have a lot of good things in our city,” he adds. This store “is a testament to the kind of community within a community that exists in the city of East St. Louis: individuals who … try to ensure that the city maintains vital services.”
It also draws the people who grew up here back to their roots from the surrounding suburbs.
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“[The Conrads] are like family, ”says Sandy Johnson, the local resident, completing her order from a bank with Big Bol Candy Bubble Gum and Mary Jane bars.
“It’s a neighborhood store you can count on. … rain, sleet or snow, they will be here and always with a smile, ”says Douglas Borders, who grew up a quarter of a mile away.
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