The sad, strange death of Fred Meyer: My hometown supermarket’s downward spiral

In 2019, I moved back to Portland, my hometown, to help with a family health situation.I rented an apartment near where I grew up. I began doing my food shopping at the local Fred Meyer supermarket, which I remembered from when I was a kid.When I saw the sign and the locked gate, it felt like an assault. It was another closing door. Another innocent pleasure snatched away.It was fun to go back to “Freddy’s.” It was in a quiet, affluent neighborhood, so the store was always neat and clean.They hired local high school kids to work there. As part of their job, they would always greet you, or ask if you needed help finding anything.I found this incredibly charming. After living in Brooklyn and Los Angeles for many years, to have these nice young people smiling and asking how my day was going … well, once I got over the shock, I came to appreciate it.Toilet paperA year into living there, COVID began. At first, the only real problem this created was a toilet paper shortage. But being sane, reasonable Oregonians, my neighbors and I restrained ourselves. No one was panic-buying Charmin Ultra-Soft at Fred Meyer.But soon after, the pandemic got serious. The government announced “two weeks to stop the spread.” Everything closed. People stayed in their homes. Supermarkets were one of the only places you could go.At Freddy’s, the teenagers quickly disappeared. The grown-up workers who remained suddenly looked nervous and scared.As the pandemic dragged on, Fred Meyer was forced to advertise for new employees. The company offered generous bonuses. Soon there were retirees working there and borderline homeless people.The tone of the place changed. Customers would hurry in and out. People would freak out if you stood too close to them. Everyone was suspicious of each other. It had become the exact opposite of what it had been before.The mask warsThen masks became a thing. First, they made people feel safer. Then they became a new source of division and conflict.Fred Meyer was now in survival mode. Store hours were cut. The store limped along with reduced staff. There began to be rows of empty shelves. I think they actually did run out of toilet paper at one point.That summer, the George Floyd protests began and became a nightly occurrence in downtown Portland.At Fred Meyer, you’d occasionally see young protesters and members of Antifa on their way home to their parents’ houses in the suburbs — after a night of throwing rocks at the police.One night, I encountered two young kids in black bloc. With great excitement and fervor, they told me about being tear-gassed by the “fascist police.”They might have been the same kids who had been bagging groceries the year before.Vibe shiftWhen the worst of COVID had passed, Fred Meyer recovered somewhat. It reinstated its original hours. It seemed to have steady employees again, though I noticed the kindly people who worked there in 2019 had been replaced in 2022 by sullen, silent workers with neck tattoos.There were no bright-faced teenagers. Nobody said “hi” to you. The place was not as clean as it once was. Shelves continued to be empty. You couldn’t count on certain items being available. You had to adopt a “buy it when you see it” shopping strategy.Soon after, Freddy’s began instituting new security measures. The company put in gates you had to pass through going in and out. You could see yourself in a video monitor as you entered. Plainclothes security people sometimes stood guard at the exits.It was obvious why. Unsavory characters had begun to appear at the store, especially at night, though there was no reason for them to be in that neighborhood.You’d see broken-down cars in the parking lot with strange people sitting inside them. Were they doing drugs? Or maybe sleeping there overnight?Early one morning, a car was set on fire in Freddy’s back parking lot. The suburban fire department came and put it out. It made the local news. There was no word on what happened or why.To its credit, Fred Meyer still doesn’t have armed guards on site. But it’s coming. I’m sure.RELATED: Is this a new era of conservative filmmaking? Jean-Louis Atlan/Getty ImagesThe nurseryOne last thing: Fred Meyer has a large open-air nursery attached to the grocery store. It’s full of flowers, houseplants, and gardening supplies.It’s a first sign of spring when it opens in April and marks the beginning of winter when it closes in October.But just this week — mid-August — staff began locking the outside gates. Now the nursery is only accessible through the front entrance. Were people stealing the flowers?When those gates were open, I often entered the store via a stroll through the cheerful nursery. It was a highlight of shopping there.Closing doorsWhen I saw the sign and the locked gate, it felt like an assault. On me personally and on the entire community. It was another closing door. Another innocent pleasure snatched away.And who exactly could you blame for this? The government, the store, the social democrats, the understaffed police?Back in 2019, when those smiling high school kids asked me how I was doing, I always said, “Great.” Because I was great. Because Freddy’s was great. Because America was great.It’s probably good they aren’t there any more. I don’t know what I would say to them.