It’s no secret that Park Slopers have an ambivalent relationship with their national chains. Years back, even before B&N opened, many were afraid that the store would signal the end of Seventh Avenue.

For years, neighborhood groups fought Methodist Hospital’s first expansion, which brought with it a parking lot and retail spaces for national stores like Rite Aid and Barnes and Noble (the first long-lasting national chains on Seventh Avenue).

People cried quality of life issues and traffic — afraid that the expansion would ruin what was perceived to be a low-key neighborhood.   

And more. Park Slopers worried that B&N would put their cherished independent booksellers out of business. Then owners of Community Bookstore braced for the opening of the mega bookstore by adding a cafe in back and a web site for e-commerce. They also promised discounts similar to  Barnes and Noble’s.

Book Link, another beloved Park Slope bookstore, quickly down-sized from two shops to one. They finally succumbed to the realities of the independent book business post-B&N and closed their sole shop a few years ago.

Interestingly, two used bookstores opened on the block between 3rd and 2nd Streets on Seventh Avenue. One of them is owned by a man who used to work at Barnes and Noble (corporate level) in some capacity.

The big surprise when Barnes and Noble’s opened was how useful it was to Park Slopers, especially parents, who needed somewhere to go when it was too cold or rainy for the playground. Parents took advantage of their large basement level children’s department. Caregivers loved the easy-to-access, easy to use  space.

And the kids. They loved the Brio train set, all the books and book-toys.

At first, it was a marriage made in heaven. Barnes and Noble offered great discounts and a comfy space for area parents.

Once the store was more established in the nabe, however, the discounts became less steep and the store started to make the downstairs space less comfortable.  B&N griped that parents and caregivers abused the space and the books, and left garbage behind.

In a sense, Barnes and Noble is as uncomfortable with its status as a community resource as Park Slopers are with the idea of a national chain on Seventh Avenue.

Both want their cake and eat it too.

Slopers want a place to go in winter that’s free and easy, where they can do what they want.

B&N’s brand depends on it being a community resource, while still being a viable retail environment.

Clearly, there’s a dollar value in the perception of the B&N brand as a community resource. In fact, it’s a form of advertising, which creates good will about the brand. 

The corporation needs the parents. The Park Slopers need the corporation. Life makes for strange bedfellows.