Yeah, yeah, Trump took office. Lots of celebrities died. Thanks to the potent combination of crackpots on both sides of the Pacific with access to some mighty powerful weapons, we inched ever-closer to nuclear annihilation.
But setting aside the prospect of apocalypse, in St. Louis, 2017 was far from all bad. And it's not just that it was a damn good year within the city's dining scene, with several new restaurants generating national buzz. (Read more about that in Cheryl Baehr's list of the area's top ten openings in our dining section.) For a city with a history of terrible judgment and provincial thinking, we also made some surprisingly good decisions and achieved progress in a few key unlikely areas.
Yes, we've still got some big problems to tackle (among others, we'd list the murder rate, the region's troubling inequality and the continued employment of one Jeffrey Roorda). But let's celebrate what we got right for once. We'll save the other 51 issues of the year for our usual bellyaching.
1. We elected a woman mayor
St. Louis can be a tough place for women. A comprehensive 2015 study by PayScale examined the salaries of 1.4 million workers across the U.S. and found that St. Louis men and women had the greatest pay disparity of any metro area nationwide. The anecdotal evidence when it comes to key executive positions is just as appalling. As of December 2016, St. Louis County had never had a female executive and St. Louis had never had a female mayor. Statewide, women were shut out of the governor's office and also the office of Missouri Attorney General. And of the seventeen Fortune 500 companies based in the Gateway City, as of December 2016, just two had female CEOs.
Enter 2017, and that picture suddenly looks a little rosier. It's not just that St. Louis voters finally elected a woman as mayor — it's that the men barely even registered as contenders. Lyda Krewson and Tishaura Jones collectively smoked the male challengers who made up the rest of the mayoral race's crowded field; that Krewson ultimately bested Jones by 888 votes, with everyone else in the dust, suggests that neither the centrist voters who made up Krewson's coalition nor Jones' more progressive base had any doubts about putting a woman on top. And neither the media nor the political chattering class even attempted a whisper campaign suggesting gender might hold back either candidate, thank God. Perhaps that's because neither Krewson nor Jones made their sex an issue; they ran as the best person for the job, period, and voters responded accordingly.
Krewson's election wasn't the only good news for women. Even with the retirement of longtime circuit attorney Jennifer Joyce, women held onto the role of the city's top prosecutor, as former state representative Kim Gardner beat three other candidates to win the seat. And the coterie of female CEOs has grown by leaps and bounds: St. Louis now boasts a six percent increase in Fortune 500 companies run by women. Yes, that figure is entirely due to one woman's ascent, with Anna Manning becoming CEO of Reinsurance Group of America effective January 1, but you know what? We'll take it. —Sarah Fenske
2. We said no to the MLS racket
A bunch of rich assholes from Boston and Kansas City asked a poor and broken city to give them $60 million for a soccer stadium. So of course we had to give it to them, right? "This is good for St. Louis," tweeted Jim Kavanaugh, the CEO of World Wide Technology. Kicking in money for the stadium is a "moral and economic imperative," said then-Mayor Francis Slay. Supposedly, it was even the "proactive and progressive and pro-St. Louis" thing to do, as a breathtakingly tone-deaf column claimed in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch.
Yet St. Louis voters said no. Even with a $1.18 million campaign expressly designed to manipulate us into believing that subsidizing soccer was the only way to stop our slide to third-rate status, the city said no. No to billionaires begging for things they themselves could easily pay for. No to go-it-alone anti-regionalism that sticks city taxpayers with the entire bill even as county sports fans reap the benefits. No to being hectored and lectured about how corporate welfare will save us from becoming a backwater.
Of course we didn't get everything right; you could argue we were so distracted by the fight against the MLS stadium that we missed the far bigger threat, a deal fast-tracked by Board of Aldermen President Lewis Reed in February to spend as much as $105 million to upgrade the home of the St. Louis Blues, without any regional cooperation or so much as a public vote.
But this is St. Louis; we need to find our victories where we can. We could have ended 2017 looking at $105 million for hockey and $60 million for soccer; one of the two is bad, but it could have been so much worse.
And if nothing else, we sent an important message to professional sports rackets like the MLS. The league had been explicit in saying that cities wanting a team had to build a new facility, but once St. Louis refused, MLS was left with a finalist group that included Detroit — a city that planned to house its team in the very stadium used by its NFL team. (The horror!) The more cities like St. Louis are willing to call the billionaires' bluff, the more we might see municipalities opt for this kind of frugality. After all, these billionaires can only go around picking the taxpayers' pockets if we're stupid enough to let them. And in this year, in this one limited scenario, we were not. Call it proactive; call it progressive. We like to call it pro-St. Louis. —Sarah Fenske
3. We made major strides in showing work by black artists at our major institutions
This was a bellwether year for St. Louis arts institutions. Black artists had formally complained about the lack of representation — and in the case of Kelley Walker's 2016 exhibition at Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis, misrepresentation — and to their credit, curators listened and responded. This past year saw several major exhibitions of work by living black artists. Glenn Ligon displayed Blue Black, his response to Ellsworth Kelly's sculpture of the same name, at the Pulitzer Arts Foundation. Ligon's exhibition overlapped with Chicago-based artists Amanda Williams and Andres L. Hernandez's installation, A Way, Away (Listen While I Say), which transformed a vacant lot in Grand Center into a temporary venue. CAM stepped up with Mickalene Thomas: Mentors, Muses and Celebrities, in which Thomas reimagined conceptions of beauty, gender and race, particularly for black women. (The show closes December 31, so hurry if you want to see it again.)
But change is not confined to a single year; in early 2018, Ghanaian-American artist Addoley Dzegede will explore the ideas of home, migration and hybrid identities through an exhibition of her handmade batiks as part of the Great Rivers Biennial at CAM. And the Saint Louis Art Museum just recently announced the gift of 81 artworks by contemporary black artists from the Thelma and Bert Ollie Memorial Art Collection, which will go on display in 2019. Donor Ronald Ollie grew up in St. Louis and was inspired to collect art — particularly abstract art — through frequent visits to the museum. He and his wife made their gift in hopes that their collection would inspire future generations to appreciate art.
And that, folks, is why representation matters. —Paul Friswold
4. We finally decided to eat our veggies
Twenty, ten, even five years ago, if you would have said that the hottest opening of the year in St. Louis would be a restaurant that bills itself as "vegetable forward," you would have been laughed all the way to the nearest feed lot. It's not that we meat-and-potatoes Midwesterners are vegetable averse; it's just that we've tended to relegate them to the side of the plate ... oftentimes after they're buttered or creamed.
Then came Vicia, our city's break into the culinary big leagues, helmed by an acclaimed chef who — gasp — wanted to feed us turnip tops. And we ate them up. We ate the beets too, and the carrots and the mushroom-filled kohlrabi tacos, so focused on chef Michael Gallina's technical prowess and mastery with flavor that we didn't realize he was inching even the most committed of carnivores toward plant-based dinners. Sure, he may have glazed some of them in beef fat or thrown in some Berkshire pork, but those proved to be accompaniments rather than the main show — in other words, the exact opposite of how we'd been accustomed to eating.
Vicia's vegetable-focused menu may have dominated the culinary year in St. Louis, but its success piggybacks on a critical mass of plant-focused, vegetarian and even vegan restaurants that are serving food so good it defies labels — among them the gastroLAB at Confluence Kombucha, Seedz Cafe, Pizza Head, Lulu's Local Eatery and Tree House. Even Nixta, the new Latin spot that vied with Vicia for national acclaim, offers as its most dazzling dish the meatless "Mexican Pizza," or tlayuda.
What's most striking about all of these restaurants isn't that they figured out how to make vegetarian food "gourmet"; it's that they got even the most impassioned meat-eaters to admit they aren't missing anything by putting plants first. The effect may be healthier bodies, a more sustainable food system and ethical eating, but our favorite result of this veggie-forward phenomenon is how good it tastes. —Cheryl Baehr
5. We took down the Confederate monument
It only took St. Louis 103 years to make its Confederate monument disappear. Far from a magic trick, the removal of the 32-foot-tall granite shaft was the culmination of years of people seeking to rid Forest Park of a rosy, sanitized symbol of the Lost Cause. Nestled alongside Confederate Drive, it drew controversy for its entire lifetime — from the moment it was proposed by the Daughters of the Confederacy to the protests that took place there almost daily in the late spring to the week in June when it was finally taken apart, piece by piece, loaded onto flatbed trucks and whisked away.
It was 2015 when then-mayor Francis Slay put out a request for proposals to move the monument, and of the ten responses, nine were variations on "no." The sole yes came from the Missouri Civil War Museum. Two years later, it was the museum that stepped in to wrest control of the monument from the city after Mayor Lyda Krewson made it clear that it was coming down. Facing a potential lawsuit, Krewson relented.
"It didn't belong in the park," says Mark Trout, the museum's founder and CEO. Although Trout lamented the vandalism and property damage inflicted on the statue in its final days, he argues that Confederate monuments are only defensible when they exist in the context of their history. "They're not sitting out there by themselves, misunderstood," he explains. "Once they're in their proper location and contexts, sitting on battlefields and cemeteries and museums, it justifies them."
The city's settlement with the museum decrees that the monument can only be rebuilt "at a Civil War museum, battlefield or cemetery" outside of St. Louis and St. Louis County. Trout and the museum aren't yet ready to discuss plans for possibly relocating the monument — or, for that matter, the contents of the time capsule Trout unearthed from the statue's base.
For now, the monument stays mothballed until the museum can figure out a way to present it, history and all. "We're in no hurry," Trout says. Above all, he wants to makes sure they get it right. "If and when it ever goes up, it will be the last time." —Danny Wicentowski
6. We reconsidered basketball courts
Basketball is finally coming back to St. Louis' premier parks! Maybe!
Tower Grove Park and Forest Park planners both spent part of 2017 doing some serious flirting with the idea of adding courts to their acres of greenery. Tower Grove's administrators even wrote them into a draft of the park's new master plan after being deluged with requests.
It turns out that one of the country's favorite sports is pretty popular here, too. But it's also controversial. "There is a general feeling basketball courts bring out young black men, and with it there is a stereotypical idea that it's going to bring crime," Alderman Terry Kennedy told the RFT earlier this year. "Those two things are not synonymous. It's a stereotype that the city needs to work through." When then-Alderman Antonio French was pushing for basketball courts in Forest Park in 2016, he said the conspicuous absence of hoops in the city's largest park was like an "unwelcome sign" for black people.
Interestingly, the latest attempt to bring hoops to Forest Park was sponsored by Joe Vaccaro, who represents one of the city's whitest wards. He said it was a matter of public decency. And while we still don't have a place to shoot baskets in Forest Park, Vaccaro's support is a sign that we've got to be getting closer. (No, we don't want to learn to play handball instead.)
As for Tower Grove Park, it used to have courts. The park installed them in 1902, back when the balls had those weird laces and everything. In January, when the modern-day administration asked people what today's park was missing, basketball was the top answer. So they put two courts on a map, drawing them in a short walk east of Center Cross Drive.
Just because they're now on the master plan doesn't mean they'll ever actually get built, but it feels like a big step in the right direction. And hey, if it happens, the first person to use the Turkish Pavilion in a game of H-O-R-S-E is going to be a legend. —Doyle Murphy
7. We led the way on transgender issues
Despite being located within a state where you can still be fired from your job or denied housing for your sexuality, St. Louis has consistently proven itself an LGBTQ-friendly island. NerdWallet named us one of the top-20 LGBTQ-friendly cities in the country all the way back in 2013. In 2016, we became the first city west of the Mississippi to fly the transgender flag at City Hall. This year, sixteen major companies and law firms in St. Louis received a perfect score on the Human Rights Campaign Foundation's 2018 Corporate Equality Index.
The new Transgender Center at St. Louis Children's Hospital comes within that tradition. The center, which opened on August 1, sees patients at both St. Louis Children's Hospital and the Children's Specialty Care Center in Chesterfield. Directed by Washington University pediatric endocrinologist Dr. Christopher Lewis, the center focuses on young transgender and gender non-congruent patients, serving as a one-stop shop offering quality care for a variety of needs, including mental health counseling, hormonal therapy, voice therapy, legal assistance, referral to surgical options and more.
The Transgender Center has been about three years in the making, dating back to the beginning of Lewis' fellowship at St. Louis Children's Hospital, during which Lewis worked with TransParent, a local support group for parents of transgender youth. Learning about the lack of medical resources for these patients spurred him, along with Dr. Sarah Garwood and Dr. Abby Solomon Hollander, to begin proposals for the clinic.
"Almost any graduate from a U.S. medical school can .... counsel a patient on the basics of type -1 diabetes, but almost none can counsel a patient on various aspects of transgender health," Lewis says. "And that right there is a health disparity. So seeing that, plus all the other things that were going on at that meeting, knowing that I was going into endocrinology, I was like, 'Well, we can make a difference and provide care here, increase medical competency of the education within Washington University and hopefully one day provide a center of excellence for transgender health amongst the Midwest in the St. Louis metropolitan area.'"
Previously, a patient in the St. Louis area would have to travel to Kansas City or Chicago for a similar center, and the wait for new patients was long. Now, Lewis says, the Transgender Center provides care for young people all over Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, Tennessee and Arkansas.
In its short existence, the center has received recognition from the Human Rights Campaign, with staff asked to give presentations in Washington, D.C., Chicago, Nashville and Kansas City. In addition to its primary goal of providing care for transgender patients, the center also aims to develop a database and research opportunities on transgender health, establish a research network, increase awareness and support in the community and more.
Is St. Louis a perfect place for those with non-binary gender? As the police shooting of trans woman Kiwi Herring reminded us this summer, we still have a ways to go. And, yes, we're still stuck in Missouri. But with this new clinic, the medical community is making strides in the right direction. —Elizabeth Semko
8. We reopened the Kingshighway Bridge (without even towing that innocent Kia)
If a city is a body, a thing with a soul, a heart, a pulse, then surely its bridges are the veins pumping lifeblood — and for two years, St. Louis' blood fucking boiled in frustration as the Kingshighway Bridge was closed to traffic. Shut down in July 2015 after 75 years of use, the total blockage allowed for the viaduct to be dismantled and rebuilt — even as it sent the 55,000 or so vehicles that cross the bridge daily off on ponderous detours through Shaw Avenue and the already congested Vandeventer Avenue.
But in May of this blessed year of Bridge Construction Being Sufficiently Done, St. Louis felt the collective relief of a body made whole again. The bridge was back, baby (albeit in a temporary, slimmed-down version); our days of detours were over.
However, to the embarrassment of the city's Streets Department, one hole was left incomplete. In the predawn hours before the grand reopening on May 13, work crews installing the final layer of asphalt on Shaw Avenue came to a blue Kia sedan parked in their path. Somehow, no one had thought to place a No Parking sign on the street. And someone, naturally, parked there.
What to do? A more callous city would have simply towed the car. Really, who could quibble with an injustice to one motorist when an entire $21 million project is at the finish line?
But no. That's not the soul of St. Louis. Instead of blunt efficiency, the city workers chose to follow the path decreed by their lack of foresight to its logical conclusion: They meticulously paved a perfect rectangle around the Kia, leaving the vehicle safe on a shallow, sunken island of rough gravel amid a sea of fresh black asphalt. And that morning, when the Kia driver arrived to pick up her car, she uttered the only reasonable response: "This would only happen in St. Louis."
The Kia escaped un-towed, the car-shaped asphalt hole was paved in just days later, and order was reestablished in south city.
Still, the story is not quite over for the Kingshighway Bridge: Sidewalks and decorative side barriers won't be installed until the spring 2018, which means the project still isn't done. But who are we to complain? We might need something to celebrate at this time next year. —Danny Wicentowski
9. We gave Chuck Berry the epic sendoff he deserved
The world lost a titan on March 18 when Chuck Berry passed away at 90 in his Wentzville home. Shock waves from his death were felt around the globe — and since nearly every popular musician today owes at least some credit to the man for their careers, it makes sense that his passing would be mourned by some of music's biggest stars. Considering Berry's lifelong St. Louis residency, it also makes sense that some of those same stars would band together to celebrate his life at LouFest this year, delivering a raucous, high-energy set of Berry's best hits. The tribute, dubbed Hail! Hail! Chuck Berry!, brought members of the Roots, Spoon, Dave Matthews Band, Cage the Elephant, Huey Lewis and more to perform alongside a group of St. Louis scene stalwarts led by bandleader Kevin Bowers. Berry's family was closely involved with the project as well: Charles Berry Jr. and Charles Berry III joined in for a few tunes, with Jr. playing Berry's iconic red 1960 Gibson ES-345 during the last song of the set, the indelible "Johnny B. Goode." It was free and fun, an exhilarating dive into Berry's catalog by a crack team. LouFest's organizers say that Hail! Hail! is intended to be an annual affair at the fest — a fitting tribute to the man who not only invented rock & roll, but indisputably gave it its swagger. —Daniel Hill
10. We employed Dexter Fowler
OK, so right off the bat — heh — we should note that the Cardinals signed phenom center fielder Dexter Fowler in December 2016. But give us this one. Baseball starts in April, and Fowler made the 2017 season one to remember.
Even in a disappointing year, Fowler's bulb never seemed to dim. At bat, he blasted nine triples and a career-best eighteen homers. And outside Busch Stadium, he demonstrated a version of the Cardinal Way that was less about smugness or pride and more about being a decent human being.
When, for instance, Fowler found out that a seven-year-old girl with a prosthetic right arm was seeking to throw the ceremonial first pitch for every MLB team, he got in touch with the family, making plans to bring her to Busch Stadium faster than you can say "Go Cards Go."
But what really set Fowler apart in 2017 was his reaction to Donald Trump. As the president championed a transparently discriminatory travel ban aimed at people in Muslim countries, Fowler expressed a guarded worry about how the crackdown would affect his Iranian-born wife and extended family.
Cardinals fans tried to put Fowler in his place. "Stick to baseball," they said. "You're property of the Cardinals," others argued. One Facebook commenter, disgusted, wrote, "This guy isn't Cardinals material."
Fowler responded by tweet, "For the record. I know this is going to sound absolutely crazy, but athletes are humans, and not properties of the team they work for."
The response was understated, but the point resonated: Fowler was sticking up for his own family. And by putting a human face to an inhuman policy, he surely helped some MAGA supporters understand that the vast majority of people from Muslim countries aren't terrorists in training. They're college graduates and entrepreneurs, parents and baseball wives. Some of them, like Darya Fowler, are all four of those things. And surely the Best Fans in Baseball know that you don't let a bully pick on your wife, right? —Danny Wicentowski
11. We finally fixed the cratered nightmare of roadways inside Tower Grove Park
Tower Grove Park is one of the jewels of St. Louis, some 289 acres of trees and trails, ponds and pavilions, a welcoming oasis on the city's south side. The land, donated to the city by Henry Shaw in 1868, is so well-designed and nicely maintained that it has been named a National Historic Landmark, one of the nation's best examples of a late nineteenth-century public park.
But for all its charm and beauty, the park has long had a dark side. For years, cyclists have been taking their lives into their own hands each time they dared ride through the crater-pocked nightmare of its streets. With roads so bumpy they rattled your teeth out of your skull, and towering speed mountains capable of exploding the spokes out of your wheels, the situation was rough.
And so it was a relief on July 5 when workers set to the task of milling and repaving that rocky moonscape into the butter-smooth ride it is today. According to Will Rein, the park's director of operations, it has been decades since these streets saw such an improvement. "We're not exactly sure" when it was last repaved, he says, "but it has at least been since the early 1990s, because patches from work known to have been completed at that time are still visible."
The new improvements are part of a larger effort, says executive director Bill Reininger. The park worked with Traffic Commissioner Deanna Venker to figure out best practices for calming traffic and improving safety. The City of St. Louis Street Department completed the milling and paving work with funding from the 8th Ward, at a cost of around $80,000. Since the park is a public-private partnership, the park's own money is covering the additional cost of striping and installing new (much, much gentler) speed bumps.
The project is not yet entirely complete, but it's already starting to pay off. Nowadays, disfiguring accidents are at an all-time low, and those old speed bumps, which once stretched so far into the heavens that they threatened to block out the sun, have been replaced with new speed "humps," which sit much closer to the ground, down where they belong.
The beauty of a freshly paved road may never match up to that of the park itself — but it's still enough to bring a tear to the eye. —Daniel Hill
12. We voluntarily agreed to pay more than the minimum wage
This summer, the unthinkable happened. Even as states across the U.S. passed minimum wage increases, giving workers a much-needed paycheck boost, we actually reduced our minimum from $10 to $7.70. The shocking rollback earned St. Louis a flood of negative attention — with national media outlets sneering at our rank backwardness.
This time, though, it wasn't our fault. (Honest!) The reduction in wages came entirely because of the state legislature, which not only gutted the increase the city had labored to pass, but did so with the cruelest of timing.
In short: Back in 2015, the city's Board of Aldermen approved an ordinance raising the minimum wage to $10/hour. A lawsuit delayed things for a few years, but the city actually won the battle — and the increase kicked in.
Enter the state legislature, which held a special session to ensure that cities didn't have the right to set their own limits. Governor Eric Greitens refused to sign the bill but still passively allowed it to become law (he was making some sort of point, but damned if we weren't too pissed to care what it was). By the time the state preemption limped into law, the city's increase had already been in effect for three months — meaning workers briefly enjoyed a raise only to lose it.
It's the kind of easy narrative that negative campaign ads are made from (big bad governor steals pay increase from the working poor!). But unlike most tales of political grinchiness, this one actually had a silver lining, at least for some workers.
Those workers were the ones lucky enough to make their living at a St. Louis business pledging to "Save the Raise." The campaign earned voluntary sign-on from more than 100 restaurants, bars, shops and startups, which agreed to keep paying $10 or more, almost as if the legislature hadn't intervened. Vibrantly hued #SavetheRaise signs in storefronts across St. Louis let consumers know which businesses go beyond what's required to do what's right.
There is a bit of irony, of course, in commercial enterprises vowing to do what government refuses to require — if not quite an invisible hand, it's at least a savvily positioned one. But while some of these businesses surely get a marketing boost from their altruism, the heart of the story is less about free markets and more about compassion. At a time when politicians are less concerned with the fate of the poor and working class than seemingly ever before, progressives have learned that they can't count on the people who ought to provide a safety net to do so. Few small business owners have an extra $100,000 lying around to made the chattering class listen to their concerns a la the Koch Brothers — but if they can make a difference by paying an extra $2.30 an hour, they showed, they'll find the money.
And as for the rest of us, we may not all have the wherewithal to open a business of our own, but we can think hard about where choose to spend what we do have. It's true that your avocado toast may cost more if you purchase it from an eatery that's paying its workers a living wage. But surely it tastes better when it comes with a side of "screw the Missouri legislature." —Sarah Fenske
13. We created the wonderful insanity that is the St. Lunatic Burger
Genius or madman? There is a thin line between brilliance and insanity, and in 2017, no St. Louisan better captured that dynamic than Adam Pritchett.
Back in May, the Hi-Pointe Drive-In chef was pitching in at the St. Charles location of Hi-Pointe's sister restaurant, Sugarfire Smokehouse, when the inspiration struck for the ultimate St. Louis superfood: the St. Lunatic Burger. A single cheeseburger topped with a BBQ pork steak and Red Hot Riplets, it's then smothered in Provel cheese, with some toasted raviolis tossed in for good measure. Two slices of Imo's pizza for the buns. The only way this thing could taste more like St. Louis is if an actual chunk of the Arch was wedged in there.
Pritchett's creation was conceived as a special, and the Sugarfire team prepped enough for 50 servings. After posting a photo on the restaurant's Facebook page, though, they blasted through that run in short order. The eatery has not offered the burger since — a manager says its individual components are just too costly for the price point to make sense — but it's possible Sugarfire will bring the sandwich back for its one-year anniversary.
As it should. The St. Lunatic is a fully edible piece of civic pride, a true high note of delicious delirium. So what if the city again suffered the indignity of being one of the two most dangerous in the nation this year? And who cares if we're going broke? We're also the kind of wonderful place that puts a pork steak on a burger and then brings out pizza for the buns.
Do we contradict ourselves? Very well, we contradict ourselves. We are large. We contain multitudes. —Daniel Hill
14. We hired Jimmie Edwards
Who knew the guy was even willing to change jobs? Judge Jimmie Edwards was... a judge. He was a well-respected judge — one who cared so much about the kids coming through his courtroom that in 2009 he launched a school, Innovative Concept Academy, to catch the ones already falling through the cracks. People, Ebony and a handful of documentary filmmakers lauded his work.
"Those who advocated zero tolerance for children in the late 1980s and early 1990s got it wrong," he says during a compelling TEDxStLouis speech in 2010. "They got it wrong."
Even in the middle of a particularly contentious moment in the city, the reaction was pleasant surprise through most corners when Mayor Lyda Krewson announced in October that Edwards was coming on as the new director of public safety. This was a decision neither police union nor protester could argue with.
The St. Louis native grew up poor next to the Pruitt-Igoe projects and was an attorney for Southwestern Bell before spurning corporate law to become a St. Louis Circuit judge in 1992. His new job calls on him to shepherd more than 3,400 city employees, including cops and firefighters. It's not going to be easy, as anyone who watched divisions between police and citizens play out in dozens of protests this fall can attest. But Edwards is a proven problem solver, and he almost certainly did not switch jobs to lay low. —Doyle Murphy
15. We came together to clean up a Jewish Cemetery
We still don't know how 154 headstones in the Chesed Shel Emeth cemetery were toppled. Or who did it. Or why. We don't even know precisely when it occurred.
We only know that on the third Monday in February, groundskeepers returning after the weekend discovered the stones laying broken and heavy on the soft soil. Since then, despite efforts to review more than 100 hours of surveillance footage, University City Police have announced no suspects or leads.
Yet what we know beyond that is more remarkable than the mystery that still taunts us. In the days that followed the desecration, the helpers started showing up — and, yes, that included Vice President Mike Pence and Missouri Governor Eric Greitens. But even the injection of politics couldn't overshadow the scene: Hundreds of volunteers, from every corner of the St. Louis region, coming together to do good.
In any given row, you could see an interdenominational sampling of virtually every religion and ethnic group. Girls in Catholic school uniforms darted along footpaths with cleaning rags in their hands. Fifty feet from a college student wearing an Israeli flag as a cape, Durra Asarwani leaned on a rake and helped translate her husband's Arabic. They'd fled Syria only seven months prior. "We are here to help," Asarwani said in a beginner's English. "We are struggling together."
From one perspective, nothing has changed in the ten months since the gravestones were discovered upturned and defiled. We are all those groundskeepers, looking around in bewilderment, trying to make sense of the senselessness. Why would somebody do this? We don't have an answer, and so the question floats, still adrift in a spectrum between thoughtless vandalism and something much, much worse.
But whether it was a hate crime or a prank, what resonates is that scene of hundreds of volunteers raking muck and polishing grime from names and dates. A scene of shared dignity. We know what St. Louis looks like when it comes together. And in this world, that makes all the difference. —Danny Wicentowski
16. We kept calm — and we listened
For many, many days this fall, St. Louis went on the march. We railed against the "not guilty" verdict for a former police officer who sure as hell seemed guilty of something. ("I'm going to kill this motherfucker, don't you know" felt kind of like a threat to us, but what do we know?) We shouted that Black Lives Matter. We took the message to the highway and even the shopping mall, disrupting commerce in the name of racial justice.
And the people being disrupted said, in many cases, "You're right."
Business owners brought water to protesters. They pushed back against police actions that seemed to bring the violence, not contain it. They spoke out — in some cases, like that of Pi Pizzeria owner Chris Sommers, triggering a reaction from the police union that put their livelihoods at risk.
More than anything, they kept things in perspective.
"The damage that we have or potentially could sustain during these demonstrations is a small price to pay in the fight for justice," Eliza Coriell, the owner of the Crow's Nest, wrote in a letter co-signed by 45 other business owners. "Although we do not condone vandalism of any nature, we understand it. We recognize the feelings that come from generations of oppression. We understand how those feelings could bring residents of our community to conclude that there is no other way to be heard. While we believe in personal responsibility, we believe that deeper responsibility lies with our local governments and all those who have turned a blind eye to abuse. We must all take our share of the responsibility."
Early on in the protests, rabble-rousers in the Loop waited until the official demonstration was over and then turned on storefronts with bricks, pieces of pottery, even chairs. The damage was done in minutes, leaving shop after shop with gaping holes and shattered glass.
But by the next morning, the street was already full. Full of workers getting ready for business, full of people ready to spend money to support them.
And here's the crazy thing. No one was cursing out the protesters — or even the vandals who'd hijacked their march. Everybody understood that a broken window isn't the end of the world, that life goes on, and most importantly, that there are bigger conversations to be had. That felt like real progress.
Maybe, in 2018, we can focus on having them. —Sarah Fenske
17. We managed not to kill a single person with our new trolley
For the second year in a row, St. Louis is officially #blessed that the Delmar Loop Trolley has failed to claim a single life, human or otherwise. This is huge because, in the past month, trolley operators actually began logging their mandatory training hours by running the route. Even more importantly, Clayco just stepped up to front the $500,000 necessary for the trolley to become fully operational.
What that means: At some point in early 2018, the greatest technological forward leap since the Apollo space missions of the 1960s will begin ferrying passengers from the Missouri History Museum all the way to Racanelli's in the Loop. That's a journey of 29 minutes by foot during the 5 to 5:30 p.m. rush hour; by trolley, perhaps as little as half an hour, depending on the time of day. Zooline Railroad, your days are numbered as the region's leading passenger-transporting rail line. — Paul Friswold