Markets respond to demands. That’s good capitalistic economics. Ten years ago, the Peachtree-14th Street area had the usual shops – grocery stores, a delicatessen or two, couple of ladies’ dress shops, hardware stores, pharmacy, etc. There were always a couple of arts stores, too- small galleries, frame shops, paintings –you know, because of the art school and that crowd. A little weird, that bunch, but didn’t bother the neighbors much.
That was before 1964. That was before Haight-Ashbury. That was before the East Village. That was before “hippie” meant anything but fat. Then there was summer 1965? 1966? 1967. There was 12th gate. There was Grand Central Station. There was Catacombs. Hippies????! In Atlanta?????? Yeah.
And a community was born. Beauty, love, freedom, alternative life style.; the street people.
Markets respond to community. Last year, Middle Earth was born and later and English Street begins. There was the short-lived Morning Glory Seed sacrificed, martyred during the summer ’67 repression. As Middle Earth, Expansion, etc. struggled to survive, downtown put over a pseudo-masquerade and came uptown in the form of the Merry-Go-Round. Asterisk was born downtown, moved uptown this summer.
They dream free exchange. The reality? $$$$$$$$
Danny Cochran is co-owner of Atlantis Rising. Danny Cochran knew the Peachtree 14th Street area ten years ago. He grew up here. Danny Cochran knows the world of the marketplace. He ran a swimming pool company , a tavern, was into mortgages, insurance.
Chuck Monroe knows street people. The family. The needs for survival. Chuck Monroe is co-owner of Atlantis Rising. He approached Cochran, others, talked about a place relevant to the community, evolution of an idea.
Business Reality: Cochran and Morgan pay $400 per per month rent. Shop owners will give up 10% of their take to Cochran and Morgan. How decision s concerning Atlantis Rising will be made has not been decided yet. Atlantis Rising is evolving. One shop owner states, “We’ll have equal say, we can make sure of that.” Each shop has an open-ended lease with Atlantis Rising (Cochran and Morgan) and the “management” has made numerous business loans to get shops started with low rate of interest, cost, rate, margin. The market place.
The scene: Dogs, children, chatter, congregating, color, smells, sweat, beckoning, barter, bargain, money. The market place. Atlantis Rising. “Hey man, didja see those new books on palm-reading? Dig it, we could sell all the books we can get. “Lookit these hand made. Just gottem in. Groovy, man.” “Watch my shop for a second willya? Jeez its hot in here.”
Stock, supplies, prices, Sales receipts, orders, hours, bail, lease, take, percentage, profit, money. The new market place. Atlantis Rising.
The vision. More than a market place. More than exchange of goods and cash. Hope for a meeting place in there – the tea room with its tree invites gathering, human exchange. Atlantis Rising is a business. Yes. But it is hope in the prospect of encouraging creative energy for the booths. It is a hope if a free store can exist beside shops which sell for survival. It is a hope if it continues to be the energy and spirit of a community striving to be free, if profit remains secondary to people.
- maude from The Great Speckled Bird
I worked with the crew renovating the grocery store into Atlantis Rising. It was the most unique and friendly place. Anyone felt welcomed to hang out under the inside tree in the gallery. There was an old wino, Jacob, who had been given acid which had dried him out. Now he was a philosopher ex-drunk, still-bum expert on living on the fringes. He stood ready to share his advice and opinions with anyone who showed the slightest interest. On the corner of 10th and Peachtree going East past the liquor store was a stereotypical Chinese laundry. The man who owned and operated it was called Mr. Chin. He still dressed in Chinese robes and knew little English. What English he did know was almost impossible to understand because of his accent. He as known for his excellent cleaning and had over the years of hard work put three kids through college. They were all middle-class now and begged him to leave the area now Hippies had over run it. Mr. Chin liked Hippies. They were polite and did not mistreat or make fun of him.
At the end of each month Mr. Chin brought all the clothes that had been unclaimed over a month at his shop, to the free store the Diggers ran inside Atlantis Rising. Each afternoon he came to sip tea under the inside tree and play chess with speed freaks. His opponents mumbled away ninety to nothing. Mr. Chin talked excitedly and emotionally in Chinese and English, occasionally waving his hands. Neither opponent understood anything the other said, but they would at times look at the other and nod with deep understanding. I watched many games and could never discern any rules. Mr. Chin or his speed-freak opponent would pick up a piece and move it in any direction for any number of jumps. Sometimes checkers were added. This might be followed by excited talk and a piece being removed from or placed back upon the table. The same player might take several turns in a row. Sometimes disputes arose and incomprehensible arguments ensued. Weirdly, babbling back and forth always seemed to bring them to mutual satisfaction and the game continued. At some point they seemed to just as incomprehensibly decide one of them had won. They would shake, Mr. Chin would bow deeply. And each went their separate ways.
Watching these wonderland games was the most intriguing thing of an already strange workday at Atlantis Rising.
- mystere2
