Our story
The building on Chequamegon Square went up in 1901 as a dry-goods and feed store, and it has sold something to somebody in nearly every year since — hardware, groceries, war-ration sugar, fishing tackle, video rentals in a stretch nobody likes to talk about. When the last tenant closed in 2016, my husband and I couldn't stand to watch it go dark, so we bought it, patched the tin ceiling, and reopened it as a mercantile the way the town remembered it.
I'm Elsa Pedersen. I grew up two blocks from here and spent thirty years buying for a regional grocery chain before I got tired of deciding what a shelf in Duluth should look like from an office in the Cities. Now it's just this one shelf, and I get to fill it with what our neighbors actually want and what our neighbors actually make. My daughter Greta runs the local-makers side and my husband Erik keeps the books and the coffee going.
The rule we opened with still holds: carry real, useful things; give local makers a fair shelf and a fair cut; and know enough about what we sell to point you to the right one. A general store only works if it's genuinely general — and if the people behind the counter are genuinely glad you walked in.
The local-makers shelf
More than sixty makers from around Chequamegon Bay sell through the mercantile — potters, soap-makers, candle-pourers, printmakers, and the occasional teenager with a good idea and a card table's worth of stock. We take a fair margin, pay on time, and tell every customer whose hands made the thing they're holding.
Around town
You'll find us with a booth at Bay Days, a table at the farmers' market, and our name on the back of more than one Little League jersey. We host a maker meet-and-greet the first Saturday of the month and keep the coffee on all winter for anybody who needs to thaw out. This is home; the store is just how we say so.
Come meet us
Stories read better in person, over a cup of coffee by the counter. Stop in any day we're open.
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