When it comes to money, Annie DiAntonio is like most of us. She doesn't have enough of it.
Annie works behind the counter at a Fairmount coffee shop to make sure her bills get paid. But this year, the onetime Whole Foods specialty-foods manager's dreams percolated. Today, she wants to open her own shop. It's her caffeinated American dream. The place is going to be called Brewtown Coffee, a nod to the location on Brewerytown's southern edge. The sketches are already posted on the window of the corner property at 30th Street and Girard Avenue. There'll be two dozen seats for those who want to stay and sip, and a counter for those who prefer to grab and go.
"Just walking around the neighborhood, so many people are coming up and telling me they can't wait to give me their money," says Annie, sitting on the floor in the vacant storefront just feet from a trolley stop that could provide a consistent customer base. But like with most things small-business in Philly, Annie's story isn't about the people who want to give her their legal tender. It's about those who want to take it away through a system that strangles responsible development.
Back in April, Annie leased a building that sat vacant since the Brewerytown Community Development Corp. moved out two years earlier. Both her coffee-shop boss and a local investor keen on reviving the teetering stretch of Girard from 25th Street to the Philadelphia Zoo agreed that it'd be a prime location. So, she shelled out $250 for her business "privilege" license, hired an attorney and went to City Hall seeking zoning approval as a "non-window takeout establishment," the norm for any business with fewer than 30 seats. There, she was told to get neighborhood support, which she garnered from two community groups and 300 residents both north and south of Girard who backed her with their signatures.
All that was left was an OK from the Brewerytown CDC, which, in turn, would invite Fifth District Councilman Darrell Clarke's "councilmanic prerogative" blessing. That's when she says things took a turn for the absurd. Annie claims that when she met with CDC head James Carter, he said he'd gladly line up behind her on one condition: she pony up a $150 "donation."
"Honestly," sighs the twentysomething entrepreneur as potential customers file off another trolley, "I'm not even sure if he knew what he was asking was wrong."
Calling it a "mild case of extortion," she realized the CDC had her over a barrel. Without their support, they wouldn't get Clarke's. And without Clarke's, as per a fiscally strangling City Council tradition that this week's pro-SugarHouse ruling might have dismantled, Annie wouldn't be brewing anytime soon. Yet she refused to part with the loot that Carter told her he needed to restore adult computer classes. To be sure, the cash-strapped CDC, which saw its last leader ousted under shady circumstances, could be a vehicle for helping locals who feel as if they're being squeezed out by outsider development. And, it's also worth noting that new businesses should support those around them, which Annie says she'd gladly do but for what she considers a shameless, chump-change shakedown. No, it might not have risen to the level of holding up a youth-prison move to get $12 million kicked back to your neighborhood, or blocking a casino to make nice with voters you'd angered, but the principle remains constant.
"I was pissed. James asked if I planned on hiring from the neighborhood. I don't even know if I can afford to pay myself at this point!" she says. "When a community member called, [his] response was that he didn't understand how I could afford a lawyer if I couldn't afford a donation. Well, my attorney, who is a friend, is doing everything he can not to bill me until the doors open, but the wait has been crippling. I'm willing to fight as long as I have to, though. I can always fall back on my retail experience if I have to."
Clarke says he didn't know anything about Brewtown until this week. "My God," he said, laughing. "I value my job too much to get involved in something like that." (A U.S. Attorney's Office spokesperson couldn't comment extensively, but told me this week that "it could be" corruption and invited Annie to call the FBI if she so desired.)
Then, 20 minutes after Clarke said "I suspect we'd be supportive" unless there was significant community opposition, Carter was on the line. His message: Annie needn't fight anymore.
"I don't know about all that," he said in response to her version, which now includes people jumping to assist her because she called a reporter, "but I just talked to her and told her she's getting our support. She's going to help out with volunteer functions and our Christmas party. Everything's been smoothed over. We welcome her to the neighborhood. Hopefully, her coffee shop will be a great success."
Cheers to that, James. First cup's on me should you donate time to help Annie get her final zoning approval at the Jan. 4 hearing.
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