What you find might be surprising. Leave your ideas about metro St. Louis behind. It’s almost like you’ve entered a time-warp. To the east, the curious will see storage tanks, warehouses, train tracks and grain silos. These sites are common to most small towns that probably peaked at about 10,000 residents with some sort of industry to feed the tax rolls.  Now they are struggling to reinvigorate or just plain stay alive. To the west, onlookers will find closed storefronts, small shops, your grandad’s hardware store, a few diners, a gas station and a bank. These aren’t much different from other main streets in smalltown, Midwestern America.

The remnants of a vital business district are still evident in the abandoned storefronts. For sale signs in windows are fading with each afternoon’s blazing sun. A blind man could cross that street and he wouldn’t get hit, quips Rick Kleb, the third generation owner of Kleb’s Clothing, 8529 S. Broadway. Quite a few folks blame the construction of a bridge down over a River Des Peres drainage channel feeding into the Mississippi River as the major cause. They built the stadium faster than they built that bridge, said Kleb, who doesn’t hold back on his pithy wisdom. And several business owners are counting on a new casino at Lemay to bring back the traffic. Some just hope they can hang on that long.

But what makes the businesses on South Broadway different are the people who own them, work at them and shop there. Those people are just one important piece of what makes South Broadway a gem in the rough. That’s the perspective of one of the district’s movers and shakers, Jaymes Dearing.

A lean man with wide smile, Dearing sells real estate as the owner of RE Source. He’s also the president of the South Broadway Merchants Association. After talking with him about the state of business on the strip, you get a sense that he’s trying to move some of the more conservative business owners toward a more prosperous and diverse business future.

His dream for the group he leads is to be a voice for business in Carondelet. By no means is he radical. But his ideas might bring a little discomfort to some of his fellow entrepreneurs. For starters, he’s got a problem with the name of his group. We’ve got to look beyond South Broadway, he said. And merchants? How antiquated a term is that? I don’t consider myself a merchant.

Merchant, no. Connector, yes. Dearing’s the kind of person who wants to connect people with each other and see the community improve rather than decline.

His office sits at 6721 South Broadway, close to a dive of a bar called, Slo-Tom’s Lounge, where a sign advertises drink specials and buckets. (My question is whether the buckets are drinks or if you need a bucket after you have a drink special?) But Dearing’s building, from outside, features a restored facade with ironwork and terra cotta ornamentation. Inside are maple floors, a long counter that stretches nearly the whole width of the office and a vault that draws the eye to its wheel and lock. The casual observer might think the building once served as a bank. The truth is that the building started out as a real estate office.  Built in 1904, it was known as the Hammel Building, where Michael Hammel sold homes and collected rents. Back in the day, folks took pride in paying cash for their homes, thus the need for a vault.

Dearing’s start in the neighborhood was working for a client who was looking for an income generating property. He found a narrow three-story brick building at South Broadway and Courtois. His client balked at the price of the building -- $100,000 in 2001. I told him that if you don’t buy it, I will. He assured his client that he wasn’t trying to compete with him to try and create a false sense of competition for the building or clinch the sale. He was that passionate about what he saw as a gem waiting to be polished.

And once he bought the building, he began writing checks to the local groups that he believed he needed to join. Dearing’s not in real estate just to make a sale. He’s committed to community development. And to him, community development means going to meetings, learning about the people who live there and being part of the fabric of day-to-day life.

He’s quick to credit the longtime residents with preserving the past through their buildings and not giving in to the desire to tear down the old in favor of the new.

So what does Dearing see as the area’s assets? That’s an easy question for him. He lists them without hesitation: the people, the beauty of the buildings, accessibility, a wide avenue and lots of parking. There’s historic value and the potential for tax credit use since the area is part of the St. Boniface Historic District. He also points out that there’s class A office space available for $3 a square foot compared with downtown space going for a premium of $12 a square foot.

So what is it about the people and their businesses that make South Broadway more than a wide spot in the road? Perseverance, maybe. A desire to make a buck, sure. Or just maybe it’s their easy way with the folks who walk in their doors.

Take a stroll or drive down and stop at some of the places and you’re bound to meet someone who afterward will no longer be a stranger. Take John Chaney. He’s been in the antiques business for 40 years. He first ran a place on South Grand for eight years. He’s been at his current place, 7107 S. Broadway, for 32 years. But don’t expect to do any late afternoon shopping. He closes his doors sometime after 2 p.m. The early closing is understandable. He opens his doors around 5:30 a.m. On a Saturday morning you might find John and his sisters, Juanita and Lois. They joined John, moving from Alabama. Lois has been here for 23 years, while Juanita has only called St. Louis home for less than a year.

Chaney says his business has changed since 9/11. The antique dealers from Tennessee and Arkansas don’t come up anymore. The bridge construction reduced traffic and he mainly sells to individuals. The shop is packed from wall-to-wall with sofas, tables, knick-knacks, and books.

I like South Broadway. It’s been good for me, he says.

Though business has declined, he keeps hanging on. He’s started an auction night, every other Wednesday at 6 p.m., at a building at Quincy and Loughborough, where glassware, furniture, collectibles and antiques go the highest bidders.

I’m at the point that I could retire, but I don’t want to, he said. He’s hopeful that things will pick up now that the bridge is completed.

You see a lot of things go on, people working on buildings. We’re hoping that maybe more business will come back.

It doesn’t matter if you walk or drive, but you shouldn’t pass up the Crystal Wizard Shop at 7621 S. Broadway. You can’t miss it. You’ll see pots with marigolds out front; she’s got jade plants, sedums, and mother of many. There’s usually a chalkboard out front with a message for passersby. One afternoon it read, If you love someone, set them free. If they don’t come back, call them later when you’re drunk.

If I don’t put out the sign, people will come in the store and say, ˜Where’s the sign?’ said owner Barbara Allen with a laugh. Another day, the sign said, Don’t genuflect. It embarrasses me.

You wouldn’t believe how many people came in and asked me what that word meant, she said with a throaty laugh. I told ‘em to go home and
Allen bristles at the suggestion that she runs the local head shop. But the discriminating shopper will find lighters, incense, jewelry, T-shirts, posters and other paraphernalia. Sure I sell pipes. I’ve got to make money somehow, she said.

She’ll easily chat with customers as she chain smokes her menthols. The conversation might turn to neighborhood kids (I’m for letting children be children. If they don’t, they become machines.), how business is bad because of construction down the road or how she’s less than pleased over the settlement from her divorce. The chat will surely be punctuated by Atilla Ann, her 4-year old scarlet Macaw. She bites, Allen warns.

She believes in contributing to the community as well. Her family has lived and worked in Carondelet for four generations. Part of her community involvement is visible in the stone-boarded flowerbeds in St. Louis Square Park. I built those flowerbeds, Allen said with obvious pride. I figure that by working in the park, I’m giving back to the community.

Just next door is Rathbone Hardware. It’s the kind of place that belongs in small-town America. It’s the kind of place that Wal-Mart and Lowe’s and Home Depot have tried to kill, purposely or not. But it stays alive because some people want to talk to the person behind the counter. Dearing found a five-gallon bucket of Dry-Loc at Rathbone’s cheaper than Lowe’s sells it.

If you can, visit the South Public Super Market at Broadway and Schirmer. You just might meet Thomas J. Sweesy.

Sweesy, he said, It’s Dutch. I’m German and Irish. You figure it out. He owns the business with his son, Scott, and his pride in the business shows. I cashed in my retirement and bought a piece of heaven, he said one Saturday morning.

He’s been there since 1990. He’ll work the register. Run the lottery machine, and help the young cashier change the tape on the register. The store has also put his kids through college mostly, he says. It may not be the place for true foodies. It’s a throwback to grocery stores in the 1960s and 1970s.

But the Summer Swelter Without Power of 2006 shows some of Sweesy’s selfless nature.  After the July 19 storm knocked the power out in St. Louis, Sweesy and his workers were at the store for 24 hours. Their alarm was on the blink and they needed to keep a watch on the freezers and food. A wall of freezers on the south end of the store was full of frozen dinners and dairy products. By the second day without power, he and his staff had to make a decision. The food was still frozen, but it wouldn’t last much longer.

We didn’t give it away, he said. We just put it out there and then people took it. I just walked away, I couldn’t watch it.

What he couldn’t watch was losing $30,000 worth of food go out the door. But from Sweesy’s perspective, he didn’t have a choice. People were without power and he didn’t want to throw out the food. Giving it away made sense.

The 53-year-old Kleb who serves as an authorized dealer of Levi’s has probably been hurt the worst by the bridge construction. His sales in the summer aren’t great. Winter is his busiest time of the year. He can remember when businesses along South Broadway would be decorated for Christmas and all sorts of shop owners would be selling their wares. Now they roll up the street at night, he said. He’s hopeful a new casino - which might come in by - and the completed bridge will bring back customers and give him some new ones.

Pinnacle Entertainment is planning a $375 million project that will include 3,000 slot machines and 60 tables for gambling, a 100-room hotel, restaurants, a spa, bowling alley, movie theater, an indoor ice rink and a public park with athletic fields.

But Dearing’s vision doesn’t hang on a completed bridge or casino. He has a broader vision. He’s looking for balance. He knows it takes people living, shopping, and playing to make a community thrive. He knows there’s more to South Broadway than just storefronts.

What else is there?

Carondelet Bakery, 7726 Virginia Ave.: Robert and Linda Smith own the oldest bakery in St. Louis.

Hours: 8 a.m.-6 p.m. Tuesday through Friday; 7 a.m.-5 p.m. Saturday.

Website: http://www.carondeletbakery.com

Carondelet Historic Center, 6303 Michigan Ave.

Admission: $2 for  adults, $1 for children, Free school tours.

Phone: 314.481.6303

Resources:

Carondeletter, a newsletter published by the Carondelet Community Betterment Federation. It includes a directory of businesses in the area and highlights community events.

Phone: 314.752.6339