In the Before Time, St. Paul's Payne Avenue was on the upswing.
A diverse array of small businesses was filling vacant storefronts, drawing visitors from near and far and reinstilling a sense of vibrancy along and around the corridor, one of the capital city's historic main streets.
Now, more than six months into the COVID-19 pandemic and with winter on the horizon, businesses that have contributed to the area's renaissance are barely holding on. For a close-knit community that was seeing years of hard work pay off, it's a heavy blow — but one business owners say they're determined to weather.
"It was really on a great trajectory before all of this happened," said Ryan Huseby, co-owner of Tongue in Cheek restaurant, which opened six years ago in a vacant spot at the corner of Payne and Jenks avenues. "The other business owners I talk to — you know, they're not doing great, but they're all optimistic about the future."
Since St. Paul's early days, Payne Avenue has been a commercial corridor in a neighborhood that has served as a landing place for waves of new immigrants, from Swedes and Italians to Hmong and Karen.
It's also an area that's poorer than St. Paul as a whole — 40% of households in Payne-Phalen earn less than $35,000 a year, compared with a third of households citywide, according to data from Minnesota Compass. As in communities across the United States, the pandemic has laid those inequities bare and made the future all the more tenuous.
In recent years, East Side residents, business owners and community organizers have tried to reshape Payne Avenue as an arts and culture hub after an economic decline tied to the loss of major industrial employers including Whirlpool, 3M and Hamm's Brewery. The businesses cropping up now, both on Payne Avenue and in the surrounding area, are aiming to fill unmet needs — for places to eat, buy a record, get a cup of coffee, see and make art, or even learn to swing on a flying trapeze.
"In this modern time, [Payne Avenue is] important because it's about as diverse as it gets," said Stephan Kistler, who runs an art studio space in the Old Swedish Bank Building and is part of a group of community members seeking to turn the corridor into a cultural destination without gentrifying it. "There's something there worth preserving, but also something worth re-energizing."