Theseprojects have met various levels of success, but they all share one commondenominator: They have done little to help the city’s most vulnerableresidents. Urban redevelopment often means the displacement of low-income individualsand families, and that characteristic has marked many renewal efforts in Milwaukee. At the sametime, there is a sense that these strategies also haven’t done enough to stemthe tide of disinvestment within the city. Abandoned structures now dot thecity’s landscape as local government struggles financially to keep its headabove water.
Itis within this troubled environment that groups like Community Warehouse havethe potential to remake the city. Located in the building that once housed theBlackhawk Tannery, Community Warehouse (521 S. Ninth St.) shares a block with ahost of vacant structures. From Ninth Street, the group’s home looks ratherunremarkable: I had driven by it a host of times without ever noticing it. Yetwhat is happening inside of Community Warehouse is remarkable. The formertannery has been transformed into a sort of D.I.Y. Home Depot, with shelvesupon shelves stocked with new home and facility improvement materials. Fromwindows to doors to paint and even bathtubs, Community Warehouse has it instock.
Andthere is a specific customer base for such an inventory. Community Warehouse isa membership organization, with members consisting of community residents,nonprofit organizations, and property owners who live and work within a zonemarked for redevelopment by Milwaukee’s Community Development GrantsAdministrationa space that extends north to Silver Spring Road, south toCleveland Avenue, west to 60th Street, and east to First Street. Thesememberswho come from some of the city’s most impoverished neighborhoodscanpurchase home improvement materials at a price approximately 75% off originalretail value.
Making It Work
Howcan the group offer this deep discount? By relying, in great part, on thedonations, both material and financial, of a host of manufacturers, retailers,builders, corporations, philanthropic organizations and individuals. ButCommunity Warehouse is also incredibly well run, with two of its chief leaders,Executive Director George Bogdanovich and General Manager Brent Halfwassen,coming from the corporate world. Despite its social goals, Community Warehouseis run like a business.
Thisapproach sets Community Warehouse apart from many of its redevelopment peers.Another point of difference? The group, as Halfwassen stresses, has never takenany city, state or federal money. This position is not due to anyanti-government animus, since tax-exempt status is an indirect governmentsubsidy. Rather, they want the flexibility that comes from non-governmentaldonations.
“Ididn’t want them [the government] to give me a bunch of regulationswhat Icould and couldn’t do,” Bogdanovich explains.
“Idon’t think government is the answer. I’m not even sure that organizations likeourselves are a part of the answer,” Halfwassen notes. “It’s not like theprivate sector is the answer either. There almost has to be a culturalmentality shift.”
Atthe heart of this shift is the fact that we must believe urban redevelopmentcan be a bottom-up endeavor, with neighborhood residents playing crucial rolesin rebuilding their immediate surroundings. Community Warehouse is thinkingsmall. But it is on this micro-level where true community is builtfigurativelyand, in the case of the efforts of Community Warehouse to improve the homes ofthe city’s poorest inhabitants, literally as well.
