In the Name of Progress

In the Name of Progress

McKinney, Texas is just a segment of the sprawling metropolis of Dallas. I had never really even heard of it until around three years ago. You see, I think I was born to yearn for the past. The good old days are a myth; as every generation has faced strife and turmoil in some form or fashion. However, there is truth to the notion that life was simpler, integrity was of a higher value, and it was easier to live life at a less frantic pace.

Three years ago, I found a piece of yesterday buried in North Texas, an island in the sea of the present. In the heart of McKinney, there is a town square. In the center is a courthouse, and great care and effort had been made by the people to preserve that little piece of the past in order to allow visitors to peek through a window to garner a glimpse into those simpler times.

The driving force of this effort was the owner of “Clyde’s on the Square”. Over twenty years ago he opened this shop and was the first person to really have the vision of McKinney’s potential. When I arrived three years ago, his was the first shop I visited, as I had been told that it was “my kind of place.” My source knows me well. Two stories of treasures. None of those fancy European armoires that wouldn’t begin to fit into my house were to be found. I’m talking aisle after aisle of primitives and just pure junk. There was an older man seated at the throne of this junker’s paradise. Killis had a sign on the counter that stated, “No, I’m not Clyde. I’m Killis, the good lookin’ one”. He happens to be Clyde’s father-in-law. He is one of the finest fellows I’ve ever met. Although he has a gruff exterior and a wit dryer than a Texas drought, it doesn’t take long to see that it’s all part of the show. He does tell it how he sees it, and he is cantankerous, but where it counts, he’s as good as gold.

Clyde is not as feisty, but he is as genuine a person as you would hope to meet. He’d give you the shirt off his back, and in many instances he has done so for me. The real people of McKinney, the ones who have followed his lead to preserve the past, know the sacrifices he has made for the town.

I fell in love with McKinney, and Clyde’s in particular. Four and a half hours from home, but I had to be a part of that history. There were no spaces available, but I did get into one of the many antique malls on the square. It wasn’t Clyde’s, but it gave me a reason to make the drive at least once a month.

Three weeks after I moved in, I was informed that the building had been sold and I had 30 days to vacate. Little did I know, I was witnessing the beginning of “progress”. I moved into another store in a better location, which was meant to be as far as I’m concerned. You see, the owners became two great friends. In fact, although they will never read this, I’m sitting in their living room at this very moment. We have stayed with them on every single trip.

A few moths later, a shop closes. Then the domino effect seems to kick in. It turns out that one man and a group of backers have decided that the town needs “diversity, so they have proceeded to buy up buildings and either immediately transform them into coffee shops, boutiques and the like, or they have raised the rents on the owners so that the owners have been forced to increase dealer rents to the point that the dealers have moved on.

In the name of progress, a piece of history is slowly transforming into something that looks and feels no different than the rest of today’s world.

The final blow came a little over two months ago when Clyde told me he, too, had sold his building, and that it would no longer be an antiquer’s paradise. I would have sold as well. It was his time to move on, not to mention that the building he bought over twenty years ago for five figures sold for seven. I would have done the same.

So, outside sits a trailer filled with the little pieces I own from this victim of progress. Among the boxes is a sign that states, “Over Twenty Shops Upstairs.” On the back are Clyde’s signature and the date. Next to it is the signature of Killis and the words, “same date”.

All in the Name of Progress. . .