But in many places, the popular hangout for people from all walks of life--by their own decision or, increasingly, by default--is a Starbucks. That's certainly the case in Evanston, Illinois. In recent years, the Seattle-based coffee chain has blanketed the Chicago suburb with five shops. Starbucks has become so ubiquitous, its critics contend, that it is sucking the uniqueness out of Evanston's neighborhoods.
So when Starbucks proposed a sixth store there, residents rebelled. Anti-Starbucks activists collected 1,500 signatures against the new store, which was to be located just four blocks from another Starbucks. Evanston's zoning board ruled against the location, although an appeal is pending before the city council. "In the long term, if a Starbucks comes in, then we'll have a Gap, and then a Banana Republic," says Ted Glasoe, who helped organize the opposition. "Pretty soon, rents will go up and our independent stores and restaurants will go out of business."
The Starbucks rebellion in Evanston is the latest round of resistance to the chain's international march to dominance. Starbucks has 3,500 stores worldwide, and new outlets open on Main Streets and in malls at the rate of three a day. Most Starbucks outlets open without a hitch. But in a growing number of cities, from Oakland, California to Katonah, New York, residents have kicked up venti-sized uprisings that have sent the java giant packing.
This isn't just a case of the jitters about big chains driving out the mom-and-pop shops. In gentrifying neighborhoods, where locals already worry about rising rents, the place selling decaf skinny tall caramel macchiatos for $3.75 is a visible target for anger. Moreover, Starbucks is replacing the unique character of the neighborhood coffee shop with a market-tested homogeneity that offers the same products and atmosphere in Evanston as it does in New York or Phoenix.
There's a touch of irony, however, to this left-leaning criticism: Starbucks generally earns kudos as a good corporate citizen. It hires employees locally, offers them benefits and stock options, and many locations give their leftover pastries to homeless shelters. The company has won favor with preservationists for setting up in abandoned buildings, and has been recruited into some low-income communities that see Starbucks as a status symbol and a welcome sign to investors. "We believe," says Starbucks spokesman Alan Gulick, "that a company can grow big and still remain small and locally relevant."
Opponents aren't buying it. "Chain stores have destroyed locally owned business, and the local culture and sense of place that went along with those," says Stacy Mitchell, a researcher with the Institute for Local Self-Reliance and author of the book "Home Town Advantage." "Now Starbucks is coming into this vacuum and selling a commodity version of what the community has lost."
Mitchell aided the Starbucks opponents in Evanston and works with activists elsewhere on warding off chain stores and restaurants. At least six cities, she says, have restrictions on "formula businesses" that use similar menus or employee uniforms at multiple outlets. Meanwhile, a law in Santa Cruz, California, gives locally owned businesses priority for permit approvals.
Of course, it would be illegal to ban Starbucks or any other single chain outright, so opponents tend to couch their arguments in terms of parking or traffic woes that such a store will bring. "We don't hate all Starbucks," insists Evanston's Ted Glasoe, who admits he occasionally buys coffee there. "We're saying we just don't want another one in this particular neighborhood."
