Visiting Eastland, before it's gone for good

As Eastland Mall twisted in the wind over the last decade or so, it became increasingly clear that its days were numbered - with the only question when, not if, it would shut for good. But with the news last week that the mall is, indeed, slated to shut down at the end of June, a couple of colleagues and I decided to stop by for lunch on Friday, not as reporters, but just as customers, to see it while we still could.

It seemed the venerable shopping center was more diminished each time I saw it over the last few years, sapped by uncertainty, shedding a couple of stores here and there. But even as recently as a year or two ago, there was a little life left in it. No more: Picture a final clearance sale on its last, weary legs and you'll have a pretty good idea of what the place looks and feels like now. An air of resignation hung over the whole scene, yet maybe also a little relief, because at least now the mall's fate is clear - and shoppers and tenants can plan accordingly. Signs in the mall listed "Operating hours through June 30," and said, "Thank you to the hundreds of millions of shoppers who have visited us over 35 great years!" ("Hundreds of millions"? Hm.)

Contrary to the negative perceptions that have damaged the mall's image, our trip wasn't unsafe or sketchy - just really sad. Even on the way over, it was impossible to escape what had been and was no more - even the Red Lobster on nearby Albemarle Road, which had been open as recently as a few months ago, was boarded-up and closed. At the mall itself, the reminders persisted, down to the curiously unchanged '70s-style "Eastland" signs over the main entrances, showing that leaf-sun logo with the puffed-out cheeks blowing what must surely be a blast of bitter air at this point. The former Firestone car care center in the parking lot, on Central Avenue, was also closed.

Inside, the scene is arguably stranger, because the mall has been fairly tidily kept and still maintains all the familiar visual cues of a decent early-'90s mall, just with few shoppers and few of the stores you'd expect to find in such a setting. There are the shiny, neutral-colored marble floors, the neatly potted plants flanking stairways, the light flooding in from skylights, the greenery lining the balcony overlooks, all a bit of a time capsule, and not a decrepit one. A Charlotte native in our group could point to vacant storefronts and tell us what they used to be - Morrison Cafeteria, Hibbett Sports, Express, Sears, Dillard's, the Children's Place, New York & Co. (though through a window, wallpaper showing the Manhattan skyline was still visible), Chick-fil-A, Showmars. Even the off-brand Cinnabon-type place had departed. The old ice rink is now covered in a blue surface marked for soccer. Stores like Shoe Show and Champs Sports appeared to have left more recently, while Foot Locker, Lady Foot Locker and FootAction USA were still open, among the few national-chain holdouts, along with Kay Jewelers. The retailers remaining were primarily jewelry and sneaker shops, though there were also a couple selling home decor and streetwear, and a nicer men's shop.

The former Belk end of the mall is particularly empty, because it lost its anchor in 2007, earlier than the other sides of the mall. On Friday, nothing seemed to be in business at that end, on either level. We stood there for a minute, listening to the elevator music that rang through the quiet corridors, the cheery, wordless sax tunes striking an ironically mournful tone. "Looking to grow your business?" asked colorful signs affixed to the boarded-off Belk entrances, on both floors."Plant yourself here."

Back at the food court, about five restaurants were still in business, at least nominally: A bourbon chicken place, a teryiaki place, a pizzeria, an ice cream shop and a Charley's Steakery. I'd really wanted a cheesesteak, and it was clear the steak shop wasn't permanently gone: The lights were on, the cash register was on, the soda machines were on and signs promoting sandwiches were standing by the counter. But there was no one behind the counter, and no sign that any food had been prepared there that day. I waited a few minutes, hoping the proprietor would show up, but nothing changed. So I asked the man behind the pizza counter: "Is the cheesesteak place open?" No, he said, he's gone today. As it transpired, the pizza place and cheesesteak place are not open on the same days anymore, the pizza owner said, because if they were both open at the same time, neither would make money. So instead, they alternate - when the pizza place is open, the steakery isn't, and vice versa, with the owners using their days off to search for new digs.

Why, I asked the pizza shop man, had he stayed at Eastland, given the upheaval? Because, he said, until eight months ago, he'd been making money - and had a lease obligating him to remain. The rent was reasonable; though the pizzeria could have done more business in a storefront on Central Avenue in Plaza Midwood, the man said, the more expensive rent in a location like that would have negated the benefits. Now, tenants are freed from their leases, so he's looking for a new home.

Our choices thus constrained, we opted for pizza - a greasy pepperoni slice for me - and sat down at the edge of the food court, looking out at the center court. A few other, scattered tables were occupied. As we ate, a man at a jewelry store across the way brought out a sign and put it up: "Everything must go - SALE - mall closing."

As we walked out, we passed the recently shuttered Burlington Shoes, where boxes were stacked inside and the gate pulled down over the door. An old Nike poster display rack stood outside, with a handwritten sign reading "FREE" taped to it. On the door frame, another handwritten sign helpfully noted, "Store is closed."

Through it all, I kept wondering about the mall's decline and how it happened. Obviously, that kind of slide doesn't happen overnight, but it's interesting to consider that as recently as four or five years ago, Eastland was still pretty much fully occupied, with Belk, Dillard's and Sears still in business and other national chains still there, and the ice rink still open. But then, the situation seemed to shift rapidly - hastened, no doubt, by the opening of Northlake mall in 2005, a 2005 Christmas-season shooting near the food court and the departure of anchors such as Belk. For people whose Eastland memories stretch back farther, the contrast is probably even starker and more painful.

Though Eastland doesn't have the retail choices it once did - the biggest thing for sale there now is likely the mall itself, which is set to be auctioned at the Mecklenburg Courthouse on June 28 - you, too, might want to pay it a visit in its waning months. Though it might be easier to file it under "out of sight, out of mind," seeing retail decay firsthand can help you better understand what it means for our landscape, and how it ties into the well-being of an entire swath of town. But if that sounds like too much of a college lecture, approach it instead as a one-of-a-kind field trip to a fascinating 20th-century relic. Yes, it's our very own dead mall, here for a limited time only - and if we're lucky, we won't have another one to contend with for a long time, or ever.