The Space to Be
Downtown co-op provides an outlet for wayward youth
The pungent odor of sweaty bodies mingling with the acrid stench of cheap beer and cigarettes lingers in the air at this University Avenue store, which is pretty much empty of items to buy. Some records and books lay around, but you could easily park a large SUV in there and still have room for another. Oh, and the employees seem as enthused about you being there as they would be about getting a full frontal lobotomy.
Welcome to Wayward Council.
Wayward Council, a co-operative record store located on West University Avenue in Gainesville, has no boss, no wages and very few rules. Run solely by a group of kids volunteering their own time and effort, the store operates as a record store, an art gallery, a live music venue and practice space for local bands. They hold meetings every Friday at 6 p.m., assign shifts and discuss ideas for the store.
Started in 1997 by Laura Predny, Don Fitzpatrick, Frank Barber and Matt Sweeting, the storefront Wayward Council has been in operation since 2000. It stands alone as the only true co-op-run “space” in Gainesville. In Matt’s mind, the Wayward store operates on the basis of ‘if you are volunteering, then it’s your store until you walk out of the door,’ basically meaniing that no rules can be laid down.
“It’s a very hands-on chance at having a record store and show space. A place to decode and demystify what it means to work in a punk space and put on events,” says long-term volunteer and Gainesville librarian Travis Fristoe. “While the place is open, the potential is limited only by the imagination and inspiration of the key-holders.”
However, the vision of the store can veer drastically from its main focus. Ex-volunteer and member of Gainesville band Fiya, Joey Brenner recalls how his shifts were somewhat disrupted by Sam Wicks, a fellow volunteer, bringing kegs of beer into the store at random times and sitting there until the last drop had been consumed. Another time, Wicks showed up in full Tampa Bay Buccaneers garb with a TV/VCR, sat down and watched pre-taped Tampa Bay games all day.
From fights with frat kids, to people getting naked, to people bringing slip and slides inside the store, there’s not much that Wayward hasn’t seen.
“I’ve had sex in there before,” Matt says frankly.
Wayward holds readings, movie nights and art shows of all types.
But the fact that Wayward is still around has surprised many.
“No one saw it lasting,” Matt says. “Everywhere else has these anchors that keep them open, but Wayward is just this thing. It’s this amorphous concept. The day the volunteers don’t care to make it anything is the day it should close.”
Yet not everyone remains as involved in Wayward as they once were.
Travis occasionally attends meetings and participates in events.
“My being not as involved is what fellow former volunteer Yvette calls ‘the gift of absence.’ By stepping back, you allow others to take part,” Travis says.
“I’m just stoked it made it as long as it has,” Matt says. “Who knows? I may just give it a year and a half, get the tattoo, burn it down and make it a legend forever.”