Our War Correspondent has sent a report in which gunfire can be heard in the background, so we ask the reader to turn down the volume if it is too distressing.
One wounded.
A few years ago, Before COVID, a talented pair of entrepreneurs set up a shop on King Street and committed hundreds of thousands of dollars to establishing a leading edge design store. Investment in Midland.
These were grads of universities with degrees in aesthetics and business. That is not a nail salon, it is art history.
The landlord was happy as his family had invested in King Street and the town for generations. The coffers of the Town didn’t swell, but they maintained expenses and enabled many other facets of the town’s administration to function…and gave them direction.
“Buy Local,” the activists of various persuasion proclaimed loudly as we swam in a sea of material goods whose source was not a British possession. The supply chain was in the hands of those fellows we bought all the tea from and had to set our guns at the mouth of the river to get it all back. Here they were getting their revenge on us and our defense was, “Buy Local.”
Never mind that. Along comes an Entrepreneur … sort of French. Money maker, loosely translated.
Enterprising person who has an idea. King Street dries up…for the next five years or more. New idea is hatched as she is flexible and a large festival is envisioned, promoted, launched and attracts millions of dollars.
Her idea. Her business plan. Executed, delivered and successful beyond imagining. Private-sector investment, precisely the mandate of any towns economic development corporation, funded by you and I. Are you with me?
The idea is so successful, apparently, that a deal is brokered whereby the Town will manage the enterprise. Subsequently this genius entrepreneur comes to the town and suggests a form of management and remuneration for this brilliant multi-million dollar, year-over-year idea.
This proposal is rejected and, like, Van Gogh, one ear and poverty stricken, our heroine hears from the good ear that Sunflowers sold for $75 million and thinks…wow.
At least it seems from one view that the Festival, now run by committee, year-over-year may or may not be doing the job.
What exactly is the “job” of this brave soul who has invested so heavily in the Town and now views it from the outside?
Here is one of the problems: Heads of committees or committee members, no matter how fired up they are, lack the spark and the fuel the Entrepreneur has. Slowly, the idea goes through iterations of decline without knowing what is occurring.
We can apply this to many of the recent “innovations” implemented by the reforming spirit that lacks the knowledge of the citizens who live in the town. A story for another day, of unrealized hopes.
Point I want to make? My wife, Anne always prods me to be less wooly, but she uses other words not printable here.
The point is, if you create economic development committees of this world, drop money annually to pay salaries and nothing is produced, you have a problem.
If you kick the most capable Entrepreneur in town to the curb after she delivers millions…free…to the town, then turn around and claim you are all about economic development? I am confused.
By the way, that idea? There were millions in her head. You missed out. Your scout was left badly wounded on the field. Lest we forget.
We find, on King Street, many years later, a small statue in the square (purchased by Royal Lepage In Touch) and recall a merit award, dedicated to the Entrepreneur, and think, “Did we miss something?”
René Hackstetter Mar 3, 2021.
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