In the four years and eleven months since Alex Curatolo opened Belliās, a local food market and juice bar housed in the 18th Street venue-restaurant complex Thalia Hall, she has worked to nurture relationships with the greater Pilsen community. Curatolo, herself a Pilsen resident of twelve years, hired a team of fluent Spanish speakers mostly from the neighborhood, stocked a variety of affordable food options, and built out a program of social-justice-oriented initiatives.
But in late June, Bruce Finkelman and Craig Goldman, owners of the 16ā On Center restaurant group behind Thalia Hall, asked the shop to leave the space in three monthsā timeāa fraction of the time that Curatolo says she needs to organize her move.
Legally, Curatolo admitted, the owners are in the right: they gave three monthsā notice before the lease ended. But she was caught off guard by the lease termination, and said that a six-month courtesy warning would have made her move not nearly as burdensome. Realistically, she said, three months is hardly enough time for a small business to re-establish itself and account for the costs of movingāwhich include support and paid leave for her five employees.
Itās likely that 16ā On Center knew far in advance it would not renew Belliās lease, though itās unclear how far. In a reply to aĀ Belliās Facebook post announcing the move and calling out Finkelman and Goldman in late June, Thalia Hall said its reason for not renewing the lease was that they needed more space for their own business within the building.
Belliās imminent move has already affected many aspects of Curatoloās business, and it has resulted in her cancelling the popular Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program she had hosted each summer, along with a variety of other seasonal programs. The CSA is a draw for customers, and it supports local farmers during the growing season. But as Belliāsā sole owner and business manager, Curatolo has had to use her spare time to address the issue of the move.
If Curatolo cannot find a feasible space in Pilsen, as she hopes she will, it could mean going back to long days building up a new clientele in a new neighborhood all over again. She has been cultivating her relationships with her customers since she began volunteering at the Pilsen Community Market during her time as a student at the University of Illinois at Chicago. The idea for Belliās germinated and sprouted during Curatoloās involvement with the market, where she later served as a board member. And many of the donations that Belliās has made as part of its charitable initiatives have been to local organizations like El Hogar del NiƱo, Mujeres Latinas en Accion, and AMFM Gallery.
The lease non-renewal raises more questions about how Thalia Hallās owners see their complex fitting into the rapidly changing neighborhood.
Community engagement is built into the foundation of the Thalia Hall building. Built by John Dusek in 1892, when Pilsen was a Bohemian neighborhood, the space was originally a public theater and music hall. 16ā On Centerāwhich also owns the Empty Bottle in Ukrainian Village, Longman & Eagle in Logan Square, and the Promontory in Hyde Parkātransformed this once open-to-the-public resource into a self-contained entity featuring a concert hall, a restaurant, and two cocktail bars.
Questions about how the new incarnation of Thalia Hall fits into the tight-knit neighborhood, and whether or not it will drive gentrification, have lingered since before 16ā On Center even opened it. āGentrification to us is not just Mexican people getting kicked out of an area,ā Nelson Soza, then-director of the Pilsen Alliance, told the Weekly in 2013 of the then-planned Thalia Hall reopening. āItās about people with more resources, influence, and education moving the old residents out, and those residents can come in many colors.ā Finkelman, for his part, dug his heels in when the topic was posed to him: āThis place has been here longer than the neighborhoodās been here, so if it doesnāt fit into the fabric, [Pilsen is] really in trouble.ā
Curatolo sees 16ā On Centerās decision not to renew her lease as both disingenuous and self-serving. In the June 30 Belliās Facebook post, she called out customers of 16ā On Centerās other establishments, writing, āWhen you spend money at [Longman & Eagle, the Promontory, the Empty Bottle, and Thalia Hall], please consider that you are ultimately supporting two real estate developers who couldn’t care less about a small women-operated & community focused juice bar that works hard to provide our community with healthy options.ā
In an unsigned reply to Belliāsā post, Thalia Hall wrote that the company signed a five-year lease with the understanding that the term would end in 2018. Their decision not to renew, they wrote, āis due to the simple fact that our own business within the building is in need of extra space on premise to operate.ā (Finkelman told Block Club Chicago last month that he hadnāt yet determined exactly how they would be using the extra space.)
But Curatolo said she signed a one-year lease her first year, a three-year lease the following, and then an additional one-year lease. Prior to signing her current one-year lease, she said, her landlords had explained that in the coming year they would be raising her rentāwhich is why after a three-year lease she decided to go back to a one-year lease in preparation for a rent increase. (When asked for comment, Finkelman directed the Weekly toward his comment on the Facebook post.)
Since announcing on Facebook and Instagram the news that Belliās would need a new location, Curatolo says Belliās has received lots of messages of support. She said several people have even reached out to her about potential locations on 18th Street and throughout the city, but her intention is to keep Belliās on 18th Street, or at the very least in Pilsen.
āAs a business rooted in the belief that social & food justice includes economic justice, we have personally witnessed the impacts of ‘voting with your money,’ā Curatolo wrote in the June post. ā[That] is why we support the many local food producers we work with over ‘the big guys’ because where your money goes does, in fact, make a difference.ā
Leo Williams is a a contributor to the Weekly and an artist based in Chicago. He often thinks about food, waste, and gender, and looks to consume and generate forms that capture those issues and themes. He lives happily with his partner and their family of worms, kefir, sauerkraut, and kvass in Bridgeport, where they are constantly growing their domestic sphere and altering how they relate to one another and the world around them. This is his first article for the Weekly.