Posts Tagged ‘greenville’

Susan Simmons

Small box store anyone?

by Susan Simmons

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Sep
12

Reading about Walmart’s flirtation with a possible Supercenter on Church Street brought back the memory of how vexed I felt, years ago, when the big box giant abandoned its Laurens Road megastore for the siren call of Woodruff Road.

What had once been a few blocks drive from Gower Estates suddenly demanded an interstate and gridlock traffic. Yes, yes, said gridlock equaled hundreds more potential Walmart shoppers. But every time I passed that empty box down from Michael’s I felt snubbed.

Times do change: sans Supercenter, the city of Greenville is now an “underserved market.” Walmart isn’t saying when a formal proposal for the corner of Church and University Ridge might appear at City Hall – but its execs have been meeting with the two neighborhoods likely to make the most noise, in favor and opposed.

Of those, the Alta Vista Neighborhood Association is more alarmed than pleased about the footprint Walmart would bestow. Haynie-Sirrine, on the other hand, is excited about abundant low prices right on their doorsteps, instead of two long bus rides away on gridlock row.

Alta Vista hasn’t committed to “no” or Haynie-Sirrine to “yes.”  These are still flirting days. One big question looms over all, for neighborhoods and city alike: whether the big box giant will act like, well, a big box giant.

When Walmart’s proposal comes, spokesman Glen Wilkins told the Greenville News, it will be for a 100,000 square-foot store – 60,000 square feet larger than the city master plan for that block of Church Street allows. Told that’s too big, it won’t fit, you’ll have to go smaller, Wilkins says Walmart “couldn’t make a store work for much less.”

He has to know that to give his bosses 100,000 square feet, City Council would have to hand Walmart its very own Amazon moment and shred the city’s master plan. Toss the zoning, ignore the protests and forget all thought of the walkable, mixed-use “urban neighborhood village” the city and community conceived after weeks of public hearings, workshops and neighborhood charrettes.

If this is indeed what Walmart envisions, I have a word of caution: Greenville City Council is no state Legislature. I’m reminded of a quote from Greenville writer Ashley Warlick’s marvelous essay in the August issue of Garden & Gun magazine: “Greenville is a place that’s thought very carefully about itself and how it wants to grow.”

In a dozen years, she writes, city leaders have reimagined downtown to such an entrancing degree that people drive in “from the other country off Woodruff Road and its big-box stores” to enjoy it.

What City Council reimagines for Church Street is a tree-lined, median-divided boulevard with wide sidewalks, and for Haynie-Smith and Alta Vista, affordable housing, public green spaces and a series of compact, mixed-used buildings creating “a vibrant environment for living, working and shopping.”

Haynie-Sirrine Neighborhood Association president Felsie Harris was on the panel that created that plan. As she told The News, “Everybody wants (Walmart)” as long as the retailer respects the master plan.

Smaller is not an impossibility. Walmart recently rolled out two new store models elsewhere – Walmart Market and Walmart Express – that focus on groceries and limited general merchandise and average 40,000 square feet or less.

No, they’re not Supercenters, but Church Street is not Woodruff Road. Walmart can be a welcome neighbor, if it can bring itself to act like a neighbor. That means respecting the neighborhood’s plans and dreams – plans and dreams that don’t, by the way, have to include a big box giant.

Lyn Riddle

Remembering Max Heller

by Lyn Riddle

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Jun
19

The day I met Max Heller – 30-something years ago – is one I recount to almost every journalism class I teach at Furman University.

It was a defining moment in my career.

I was not long out of college, working for the now-defunct Greenville Piedmont, the gutsy afternoon paper that competed fiercely with its sister The Greenville News.

Assigned to cover Greenville city government, I trooped across Main Street for a meeting with the mayor, Max Heller. His top-floor City Hall office overlooked a dying Main Street.

Store by store, retailers chose to flee downtown in search of the promise of the 1970s mall frenzy. Few treetops were apparent. Main Street was four lanes.

The mayor told me his story of coming to America, one step ahead of the Nazis thanks to a Greenville woman who arranged for someone to sponsor him. I don’t remember the exact amount but I know he had a few dollars in his pocket. And he had a work ethic as strong and straight as Palmetto tree.

He swept floors at Piedmont Shirt Co. He didn’t say this but it was apparent in his demeanor and language. In Austria, his family was prosperous. They owned a company. He was a member of a private gym, where he was a champion wrestler. And in America, he swept floors.

He pressed on, became general manager at Piedmont, co-founded another shirt company, sold his interest then founded his own shirt company. Max always had nice shirts.

Decades passed and he sold the company to dedicate his life to public service. Elected to City Council in 1969, he ran for mayor and began his term in 1971.

He’d been in office six years when I met him. He had a vision for downtown that made me think he was Greenville’s own Walt Disney. At that point, the vision had not taken root, but I knew it would and I was grateful to be watching. I knew it would be a fun ride.

At the end of the interview – Max actually spent more time asking about me than telling his story – he walked me to the door. The words he spoke then are what I tell my Furman students.

He said, “I want you to know, everything I tell you will be true, but everything that is true I won’t tell you.”

I responded, “And, Mayor, it’s that last part I’m going to be trying to find out.”

He said, “Fair enough.”

That, in the most succinct form, describes the relationship between a journalist and a source. The “fair enough” belief, though, comes from so few people in public life these days.

But Max Heller understood the value of a free press. He also knew how to be a leader, how to inspire others.

I am sure he was not happy when I broke the news that the Hyatt Corp. was going to build a hotel on Main Street and that it would be the centerpiece of a renewed downtown. Or the other stories that followed about Main Street such as giving voice to the people who thought narrowing the street to two lanes folly.

But he never said.

It was never boring covering Max Heller.

And when he left office, I was not too far behind in asking for another beat.

Lyn Riddle

On living life, no matter the challenges

by Lyn Riddle

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Jun
5

It is our tendency as journalists to celebrate those who come in first.

But sometimes the one who comes in last has the best story.

And that was so in the Stars and Stripes Challenge, held last Sunday to raise money for cancer research and its victims.

Jana Morse was the last bicyclist to cross the finish line. She’s a 44-year-old internist who before Sunday had ridden no more than 45 miles at a time.

She took on the 100-mile challenge, a grueling ride from Gateway Park in Travelers Rest to Camp Spearhead to Campbell’s Covered Bridge to Dacusville and back to the park. Hills, mountains, flatland, the ultimate biking challenge.

Morse said she signed up simply because she wanted to help the cause. Her husband, Hywel, has been diagnosed with cancer twice, in December 2009 of leukemia and last October he unwent surgery – she calls it a seek and destroy mission – after a knot in his jaw was found to be malignant.

“I’ll do anything to raise money for cancer,” she said. “But when I signed up it was 70 degrees.”

Last Sunday it was in the 90s. She missed a rest stop at about 30 miles and by 50 she had severe cramping in her legs. She was becoming dehydrated but as a doctor knew the signs and knew just how far she could push herself. She’d been pedaling since 7:30 a.m. It was well past noon, and all the other racers had finished.

“We had heard this lady was out there,” said Kevin Dunn, the race organizer.

The sweeper vehicle, sent to pick up cones and make sure everyone is off the course, found her at about 90 miles. Inside the car was a medic and a coach. And the coach just happened to have his bike and gear.

USA Cycling coach John Williams rode with her the last 10 miles. He offered information about what the course ahead looked like and, perhaps most important encouragement.

When they rolled across the finish line at about 4 p.m., the dozen or so race volunteers still there, all cried.

“I had to walk away,” Dunn said. Three girls gave her roses. Her husband and their son, Timmy, were there.

By then, all the folks waiting for Morse had heard her story.

It’s not only the uncertainty and fear that cancer brings, but also that the couple has lost two children to a rare genetic malady called Vici syndrome. This syndrome is so rare the Morse children were the seventh and eighth children in the world to be diagnosed with it. Most patients live no more than a year, some as long as three.

Tomas, the eldest, and Carys, the youngest, were never able to walk or talk. Some days they suffered hundreds of seizures. Eventually they could not swallow. They had heart problems.

The syndrome is a lifetime of hospitals and dashed dreams. Timmy does not have the syndrome.

“Our vacation home was Greenville Hospital System,” Morse said.

Tomos defied the odds and lived for eight and a half years.

“We’re stubborn,” Morse said. During the ice storm of 2006, the Morses lost power and moved in with her brother. When they returned home, they got Tomos out of the car and he was dead.

Carys, with the same platinum blond hair and porcelain skin as her brother and other Vici syndrome patients, died in her sleep last October, two weeks after her father’s cancer surgery. Hywel had quit work as a chemical engineer to stay home with her. He nursed her even as he went through chemotherapy, which put the leukemia in remission.

And that – all those life challenges – was what she was riding for last Sunday.

“A lot of people are dealing with stuff like this and they want to hide from it,” Dunn said. “She didn’t want to hide. She was a zest for life.”

“Remission is not a cure,” she said. “I’m not going to lose anyone else.”

Lyn Riddle

On doing what it takes

by Lyn Riddle

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Feb
22

Ali and Chad Tumblin celebrated the fourth birthday of their oldest son, Ty, last Wednesday.

It’s not overstating the situation to say they’re lucky he’s still alive.

Here’s how Mrs. Tumblin puts it: “To most people food can be a source of healing, but for our family, it can kill.”

Ty was born allergic to milk, nuts, egg, wheat, soy, corn and oats.  This is not your everyday allergy. It’s the sort where his throat swells and if he doesn’t get a shot and to the hospital within minutes his throat will close completely.

And it’s not only if he eats foods he’s allergic to. A reaction also can happen if he touches something or someone with food residue.

Imagine.

That means most restaurants are off limits. Parks. Birthday parties. Other people’s homes. Other people’s children. Other people.

Halloween is a complication. Thanksgiving.

Doctors estimate about 8 percent of children have some sort of food allergy and most outgrow them by the time they’re five.

By the time Ty was 2, he had outgrown his intolerance of wheat, soy, corn and oats. It was a time of rejoicing. Christmas 2009 brought cheers from the kitchen as Mrs. Tumblin baked for her family.

“I’m so thankful for the smell of sugar cookies in the air and yesterday we made Chex mix with his Earth Balance butter,” she said then. “Of course Ty doesn’t eat any of this but his mommy sure does.

That’s right. The whole family is on what they call the Ty diet. It makes a difficult life easier. They don’t have to worry about washing their hands and face every time they eat or touch food. They don’t have to worry about residue on the kitchen table.

For Ty, milk, nuts and egg remain deadly.

Three times, despite all the lengths they have gone through to make the world safe for their son, the Tumblins have had to whip out an EpiPen and inject Ty with epinephrine, a dose that lasts only long enough to get to the hospital by ambulance.

“Sometimes I get so mad that Ty has to go through this that I just want to lay on my back kicking and screaming and pitch the biggest fit anyone has ever seen,” she said. “I just don’t know how to let out all the fear and frustration I have. It’s not the fact that we can’t go out to eat, or go to birthday parties, eat pizza, enjoy family functions; it’s the fact that these foods could kill Ty.”

Ty, a sweet guy who as a toddler could sing songs on the radio like an adult, takes it all in stride.

“He had to come home from school one day because a little girl sat on his head and it was right after lunch so there was residue on her pants and he broke out all over,” Mrs. Tumblin said. “I cried like a baby for two hours and he said ‘don’t worry mom, I got to play in the director’s office.’”

There are always complications, unseen hazards.

Just the other day she called a bakery to order vegan cupcakes for his birthday. No one answered the phone so she went on the website to see what was available. She found out the vegan cupcakes included almonds.

“I would have ordered them and not known,” she said.

Recently, another challenge rose up. Younger son Tanner is too thin. His pediatrician recommended adding to his diet cheese, mayonnaise and eggs.

“Scares me to death,” she said. “Now, I have to face losing my only safe place for Ty, our home.”

That means after each meal Tanner needs a bath, his teeth brushed, all surfaces sanitized. No kissing, no hugging between the boys.

“How do I not rob Peter to pay Paul?” she wonders.

But here’s what a loving mother says – on Valentine’s Day, by the way – to her sons:

“I love my kids more than anything in this world and whatever I have to do I know is worth it if it makes both of them happy and healthy.”