From a railroad depot in North Redwood, Richard W. Sears launched a revolution in the way
America buys its goods.
Patrick and Mary
Moore see no reason why they can't start the next revolution from downtown Montevideo.
The difference is,
the Moores are starting theirs in good taste.
They also have much
different aspirations for the Main Streets of rural America than Sears, the founder of
mail order catalogues, did.
First, the matter of
good taste: The Java River coffee house the Moores opened this month brings the luxury of
gourmet brewed coffee to a heartland more familiar with stuff that tastes like it dripped
out of the crankcase.
"Thank you so
much for opening a coffee house," local customers repeat mantra-like after their
first visits, said Mary.
"Ah,
civilization," one Washington state visitor told the Moores after discovering their
coffee house by accident.
She'd been
spending the week visiting relatives in western Yellow Medicine County, and hadn't been
able to find a cup of coffee like the kind a fellow by the name of Starbuck serves her
back home.
But it's not at
Starbuck's that the Moores are aiming their sights.
"Ah, civilization," one
Washington state visitor told the Moores after discovering their coffee house by accident.
Their
real goal is to lead the change in the way America buys its agricultural products, and
ultimately, produces them.
The Moores' are
convinced that Americans care not only about the quality of the food they buy, but the
manner in which it is produced.
Given the choice,
they say, Americans will buy goods from farms using sustainable agricultural practices.
They produce food in ways that are beneficial to the environment, and to the Main Streets
of the small towns they call home, explained Patrick.
His role is to link
customer and producer together.
He's replaced the
Sears mail order catalogue with a computer kiosk in the corner of his coffee house. With a
touch of their fingers, patrons have immediate access to a collection of sustainable farms
in the Montevideo area willing to sell their produce directly to consumers.
Touch the screen, and
the people behind places like the "Moonstone Farm" come to life in picture and
word on the computer screen.
Farm owners Rick
Handeen and Audrey Arner of rural Montevideo describe how their rotational grazing
practices produce tasty beef while reducing erosion in the Minnesota River valley.
Touch the
"Pastures a Plenty Farm" icon, and Jim and LeeAnn Van Der Pol of rural Kerkhoven
explain how they turn out of pork chops by allowing their hogs to graze in a pasture lined
with bluebird houses.
Customers can order
the products directly from these and other featured farms.
"Social
marketing," is what the Moores call this approach to linking customer and producer.
They are not alone. A
couple of fellows by the names of Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield brought the same
philosophy to |
the business of selling ice cream,
They set out to make
money by marketing their values, said Patrick.
The Moores aim to do
the same. They also know better than to confuse good intentions with business realities.
Reality No. 1 is to know the market.
Marketing surveys show that 25 percent of Americans want to buy sustainable farm produce,
according to Patrick.
Only two to three percent of
them are able to do so, he said.
Of course, it will
take more than a kiosk in a coffee house to reach that untapped market. Computer
users can access the same site by calling up prairiefare.com. on the world wide web, and
do their shopping at home.
The web site just recently went online, and the kiosk
has only been open for two weeks. Yet farmers featured on the site have already heard from
a variety of interested people, according to Audrey Arner.
Her hope is that the
interest will manifest itself as an improved market for the produce of sustainable
farms. If the market -is there, more farmers will adapt sustainable agricultural
practices, she said.
It's the kind of
change both Arner and Patrick Moore want to see. They are organizers for the Land
Stewardship Project, which helped launch this venture.
The Land Stewardship
Project helped bring the farmers together, and provided the equipment for developing the
kiosk and web site.
The Moores invested
their own funds and sweat equity into developing their coffee house in an empty, downtown
store front. They are taking all of the financial risk of operating their own business.
"It's a crap
shoot," admits Patrick.
He's an optimistic
player, and for good reason. Along with a steady stream of local customers, Java River is
attracting many visitors to Montevideo to its counter. "You'd. be surprised,"
said Mary, laughingly adding: "I'm afraid it's kind of a tourist place."
The out-of-town
visitors are predictable. They come to sip espresso, or to sample house specialties named
after local rivers.
They include the
"Minnesota Mocha," a dark, mellow blend of cafe mocha with vanilla flavoring;
and the "Pomme de Terre Plunge," a caffeine blast of regular brewed coffee with
two "shots" of espresso.
Locals have their own
motives for coming here, starting with the chance to discover coffee that comes in flavors
beyond leaded and unleaded.
"Patrick calls
himself a coffee counselor," quipped Mary, explaining that her husband usually walks
the wide-eyed locals through their many beverage options.
Their drinks in hand and confidence
restored, the locals are ready to eat. Most prefer the fresh, Italian sandwiches served
right from the grill. For desert, there is ice cream or the surprisingly delightful
"Smoothies" a blend of fruit puree, yogurt and shaved ice.
"It's a place to have a treat.
That's what people say' said Mary.
If this seems like an unusual way to
start a revolution, consider the golden rule that Richard W. Sears lived by: Keep the
customer happy.
Tom Cherveny |
