Sidewalk Success
Cashing in on the romance of coffee
By Steven Krolak

We’ve all seen the photograph dozens, maybe even hundreds of times, on postcards or in advertisements: A couple kisses on a Paris street, oblivious to the crush of people pushing past them on their way to work, to the market, to home. Captured by French photographer Robert Doisneau in 1950, “The Kiss” is the ultimate romantic image, an incredible moment caught in time, revered for both its universality and its intimacy. We’ve seen it so frequently, cropped in so many different ways, that we might think we know it. But if we look again, with fresh eyes, what do we see down near the bottom of the frame? The suggestion of a small round table, the hint of a sidewalk café.

The photo is as much about sitting in a café, watching life go by, as it is about the kiss itself. It’s a statement of Doisneau’s conviction that the ordinary moments of life are worthy subjects of art and that the stationary camera is worthy of recording them. The kiss is a moment in the life of the observer sitting in the café just as much as it is a moment in the lives of the lovers.

Sitting in a sidewalk café opens us to the romance of life. Operating a sidewalk café, on the other hand, opens us to the very unromantic business of restaurant management. It’s advantageous from a marketing and aesthetic point of view, but it involves a serious commitment and attention to detail. Like Doisneau’s ubiquitous snapshot, the recipe for sidewalk success is a blend of poetry and prose.

Out Into Space

Doisneau’s photo and sidewalk cafés have another link: They are both European. In Europe, alfresco dining is a warm-weather institution. Many American coffeehouse retailers first experience the allure of sidewalk service in Europe and dream of bringing it home. Beyond the choking diesel exhaust, the jaw-dropping surcharge, the haughty waiters and the putrid smells wafting out of the alleyway to your left, there is the simple pleasure of sitting, sipping and watching.

“It’s pure ambiance,” says Bruce Milletto of Portland, Ore.-based Bellissimo Coffee InfoGroup. “In Europe, you can sit in a café for hours and read, people-watch, stare into space, whatever.” Milletto’s current favorite: the Bar di Martino in Positano, a super-picturesque town clinging to a seaside cliff on Italy’s Amalfi coast. “They actually built a platform for the café out into space, hanging off the mountain, so you have a view in literally every direction, including straight down!” Not a place to eat and run, in other words.

And that’s the point. The sidewalk café is not a refuge from life, it’s a window on life, a distinct and unique vantage point. This voyeurism makes sidewalk cafés attractive to the consumer. For the coffeehouse owner, the appeal seems less psychologically complex: More tables mean more money. As Milletto notes, it’s an additional seating area that you’re not paying for, and it has the added bonus of attracting smokers or people who like the outdoors—those who may not wish to spend time in a café.

Yet even coffee bean counters know the value of atmosphere. Call it the Doisneau Effect: Stick a few tables outside and you have created your own private piece of Paris. Milletto rightly says the sight of real people enjoying coffee at a table outside your shop is worth a dozen signs. Your customers can be seen from blocks away because they occupy a piece of the public space. For those on foot, the tables are an impediment that has to be stepped around, so you’ve created an eddy in the flow of pedestrian traffic. Once they have stopped walking, they might just come in and have a coffee, or at least look at the menu for future reference. For those in cars, your customers are a break from the blur of buildings rushing by. Ironically, the watchers have become the watched, all to your benefit.

By now you’re already wondering: What about the weather? “Hardly any locations outside of Southern California will work year-round,” cautions Milletto, “so you have to be careful with your volume and the amount of space you devote to outdoor service.” But a little sprinkle now and then shouldn’t deter you entirely. Even in rain-drenched espresso meccas like Portland and Seattle, sidewalk cafés thrive.

Let’s imagine that you’ve given into romance and made the decision to offer outdoor seating. Now what?

Pedestrian Concerns

The very thing that makes outdoor seating such a no-brainer for you—the fact that it is out there in the middle of life where everyone can see it—makes it a bane for bureaucrats responsible for maintaining the orderly flow of human traffic. In their eyes, you are not filling a void, you are occupying public land. And that dollar you make off your sidewalk café? They want a piece of that action, too.

In just about every conceivable jurisdiction in the United States, you will need some sort of permit to plop a table down outside your café. Having dealt with one set of local agencies during your start-up, you must now deal with a whole new cast of characters if you want to bring the romance of outdoor service to your neighborhood. Depending on your town, requirements range from a casual “tell us what you have in mind” to a third-degree grilling by hair-splitting City Hall heavies. And wherever you are, you will have to respect the terms of the Americans With Disabilities Act, which governs layout and accessibility issues.

A fairly representative middle-of-the-road example is my childhood home of Newport Beach, Calif. Once a sedate beach community, it’s now the backdrop for the ultra-trendy TV series “The O.C.” So you can’t just put a plastic patio set on the sidewalk and call it good.

Before you even dare to envision your operation, you’ll need a Sidewalk Café License Encroachment Permit. To get this, you’ll have to convince the Public Works director that the café is not “detrimental to public health, safety or general welfare.” You’ll need $1 million in comprehensive general liability, broad-form property damage and blanket contractual liability insurance. You’ll need a site plan, drawn to scale, that gives the exact location and dimensions of every object in the “encroachment zone.” Your tables will need to sit six to eight feet back from the nearest parking meter, street tree or bus bench, and they must be set at least ten feet from the corner of the building if the building occupies a corner.

Barriers are okay, but they must be 70 percent transparent, no higher than three and a half feet, and removable. Umbrellas are a nice idea, but they will have to be at least seven feet tall, yet not interfere with street trees. Awnings are also fun, but they must be at least eight feet high, protrude no further than five feet from the building and, oh yes, they require a permit. You’ll also need to secure a permit for your outdoor lighting, unless you’re using battery-powered table lamps.

Want to spruce things up with a few plants? Good idea. You are allowed pots or planters, provided they are no higher than 42 inches. The plants must be healthy, and the pots must have saucers that are at least one inch above the pavement to catch all runoff, since fertilizers can stain concrete. About that concrete: It must be swept and washed at the end of each day, and your furniture must be removed. While you’re at it, you must wash your umbrellas at least twice a year.

You get the idea: It might seem like 50 square feet of slab to you, but to the authorities, it’s a Bastion of the Free World. And that is worth something. While most cities charge a fee for the various licenses and permits required to serve food and coffee outdoors, Santa Barbara, Calif., considers it kosher to charge “fair market rent” for your use of the space, an amount to be determined by the City Council.

Some cities have peculiar concerns that you should be aware of. A neighborhood with a large number of historically significant properties may want your operation to fit in with the surrounding architecture. For example, in Boston, the Landmark Commission must subject your furniture and accessories to an “aesthetic review” before you can set them up.

A place with other established uses for the sidewalk might limit your plans to certain times of the day or year. In Boston, the lease term is from May 1 to October 30. In Sioux City, Iowa, the leases run from March 1 to November 1, and it can be extended during periods of good winter weather. In this turf war, every city takes a different approach to space. In St. Louis, regulations require only that “there must be enough room to walk” on the pavement between your shop and the street. Sioux City requires four feet. The drawings required by the authorities also vary. Some, like St. Louis, require a detailed drawing, but it’s probably something you can sketch out yourself. Don’t try that in Boston, where your schematic must be signed by a surveyor. Finally, expect the unexpected. In Boston, for example, you must furnish the Public Improvement Commission with a letter from a certified engineer stating that there are no underground vaults beneath the area you desire for your sidewalk café. Many cities are, after all, stacked on top of previous cities, honeycombed with abandoned spaces. (Sometimes, as in Seattle, entire districts are preserved underground and can be toured for a fee). The risk of collapse is real, and it is your job to prove that this doesn’t happen in your café.

Given all the variation, it’s wise to fully research the local codes and adhere to them. Coffee veterans will recall the case of The French Hotel Café in Berkeley, Calif. For 16 years, this sidewalk café had been a major presence in Berkeley’s literary and artistic life. But in 2000, the local authorities banned the outdoor tables because repeated requests to obtain a permit had gone unanswered by the owners for three full years. In this case, when the tables were removed, the customers brought their own and staged a “sit out.” The case was resolved, with the café obtaining the necessary permits, but it illustrates the danger of ignoring the regulations.

In view of all these requirements, it’s best to think of your sidewalk operation as a separate entity, with it’s own legal status and perhaps its own business plan. Budget for the time and labor necessary to set tables out in the morning, to keep them stocked and tidy during the day, and to break them down each evening, as well as for the effort involved in cleaning the sidewalk, picking up trash and sweeping leaves, as local rules require.

Case Studies

There seem to be two types of sidewalk operations. One type is grafted onto an existing coffeehouse, the other is built into the original conception. Both can flourish, but each faces a unique situation.

Teri Bryant, co-owner of The Black Drop in Bellingham, Wash., has three outdoor tables and a bench, with total seating for eight to 10 people. The initial motivation for outdoor service was public demand, Bryant says, as well as the desire to expand. But it also has proved to be an effective marketing ploy. “Having outdoor seating in addition to well-tended greenery acts as signage and draws the eye of passers-by to our café,” she says. “This is often how new customers find us, especially those who are downtown only on occasion.”

Of course, noncustomers can find you as well, and Bryant has had to deal with a stolen chair and plants pulled from their pots. Loitering is also a problem, as the seats look so inviting for those with nowhere else to go. Rather than just call in the cavalry, Bryant and co-owner Alexarc Mastema evolved a more positive solution. “We make it a policy to treat the outdoor seating as an extension of the café,” Mastema says, “and make sure our staff has a presence in the dining room and sidewalk seating, as well as in the kitchen.” The results have been encouraging. “When people who are not customers realize that you care enough about your space to maintain it well, and to personally address the people using it, they feel less comfortable loitering.” For their efforts, Bryant and Mastema received a TOPS award from the Specialty Coffee Association of America in 2004.

Scott Conary’s Open Eye Café of Carrboro, N.C., also won a 2004 TOPS award. The café only has four tables, but they are in constant use. “Everyone likes to hang out, watch people and enjoy the weather,” says Conary. “And we have a lot of cycling and running clubs that prefer to be outdoors after their workouts.” The boost to the café’s overall bottom line is small, Conary says, but the tables have generated their own regulars, validating Milletto’s point.

The challenges are the same as those faced by Bryant. “Being downtown means panhandlers,” Conary observes. “But we deal with it as sensitively as possible and try to help without creating a bigger problem or distressing the customers.” That means proactive donations to homeless shelters and an open-door policy to residents of Club Nova, a boarding house for mentally challenged people trying to function in society. Like Bryant, Conary was able to redefine the relationship between the café and the neighborhood in a more positive direction.

Conary’s latest venture is Caffe Driade, an outdoor concept café. Three-fourths of the tables are outdoors on four different patio areas, some of which are nestled into the surrounding woods. The largest patio has a stage for outdoor concerts. Another is essentially a porch that can be enclosed with heaters during the colder months. Here, outdoor seating is not an add-on, but intrinsic to the “design and unique charm of the place,” says Conary.

He spent $50,000 initially to develop the grounds and furniture of Driade, and estimates annual upkeep at about $5,000. It’s a big investment in the alfresco romance, especially when you’re counting on “Carolina blue skies and fair weather” in an era of climate change.

“Outdoor service is always a good idea, if you can afford the costs, even if it is only used a few months a year,” says Conary. “Just spend appropriate to the amount of business it may generate. You would be surprised how little it takes to make people happy to sit outside.”

Keeping The Romance Alive

Many coffeehouse owners are bound to wonder if sidewalk service is worth the effort. Some won’t bother. For those who do, a new layer of dialogue with the public emerges. In her poem, “At a Sidewalk Café,” Joanne Monte describes an ordinary morning in which the coffeehouse, with its familiar menu, symbolizes the predictability of life. There is safety in monotony, and yet the routine contains a hint of mystery, and after her “everyday flirtation with espresso and its bittersweet aftertaste,” the poet is inspired to wonder:

“… what quirks of fate endear us to our choices in the end—however invariable the consequences.”

It is that kind of expectancy—the hope for something new and different despite our resignation to the sameness of life—that will always draw us to sit outside with a cappuccino or a latte and watch the world go by.

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