Brave Little State is Vermont Public’s listener-powered journalism podcast. Every episode begins with a question. Today, Gary Gulka of Cabot wants to know:
“What statistic does Vermont rank 50th in?”
As we waded through a sea of last-place statistics, one stood out to us more than any other: Vermont has the fewest fast food restaurants per capita.
Note: Our show is made for the ear. We highly recommend listening to the audio. We’ve also provided a transcript below. Transcripts are generated using a combination of robots and human transcribers, and they may contain errors.
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If you ain't first, you're last
Josh Crane: From Vermont Public and the NPR Network, this is Brave Little State. I’m Josh Crane.
Vermonters love talking about the things Vermont is ranked first in.
Like how we produce the most maple syrup in the country. Or how we have the most craft breweries and Winter Olympians per capita. In researching this story, I learned that Vermont also ranks first in “sleep health” and “fruit and vegetable consumption,” according to one recent study. Nice work, everyone.
And then there are all of Vermont’s historic firsts: First state to ban billboards, to approve civil unions and to enshrine marriage equality in the legislature. We’re also the first state to operate a ski rope tow and the first with a thru-hiking trail.
Gary Gulka: I just always find it interesting that we're always at the top of very various lists for quality of life, etc …
Josh Crane: This is Gary Gulka talking to Brave Little State’s Sabine Poux.
Gary Gulka: I live in Cabot. I've been I worked for the state for 32 years in an environmental agency. I'm retired.
Sabine Poux: What Vermont superlative are you the proudest of?
Gary Gulka: As far as physical fitness goes, we're very we’re very high on that. The number of people that participate in birding and and in nature, that sort of thing, we rank very high. So I'm proud of that, definitely.
Josh Crane: But Gary isn’t curious about the things we’re good at. He wants to know where Vermont is ranked dead last.
Gary Gulka: Something I’m very curious about (laughter) when do we rank low? What statistic is Vermont ranked 50th in in the United States?
Josh Crane: Well. Vermont has the lowest male marriage rate of any state, according to a recent survey done by the U.S. Census. We also typically have one of the lowest fertility rates in the country, as well as one of the lowest gender pay gaps.
And, I know, it’s a little like asking if the cup is half empty or half full. I mean, ranking last in gender pay gap is a more pessimistic-sounding way of saying that Vermont ranks first in gender pay equity. So I guess you could say that some stats are in the eye of the beholder.
Other last-place statistics are just straight-up fun. Did you know that Vermont has the smallest-largest city of any state? I’ve also heard a compelling case that Vermont is the state with the fewest escalators. I mean … think about it.
But as we were wading through this sea of statistics, there’s one last-place stat that stood out to us more than any other:
Vermont has the fewest fast food restaurants per capita — barely half as many as the American fast food capital, West Virginia.
This might be the most profoundly un-American thing about the state of Vermont. And we didn’t need deep analysis of restaurant location maps and population data to know it. It’s totally obvious to anyone who’s ever spent time here — and especially for anyone who’s ever had late-night food cravings here.
Brave Little State reporter Sabine Poux has been digging into why this is the case — and just how far will Vermonters go to get their fast food fixes.
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Food fight
Sabine Poux: There are parts of Vermont where you can find just about any big-name fast food place your heart desires. Route 2A through Williston. Route 7 in Rutland. Putney Road in Brattleboro.
But in most of the state, you’d be hard-pressed to find a restaurant that’s open past 9 p.m., nevermind a national fast food chain.
And from a population perspective, it sort of makes sense. It’s hard to imagine a Burger King making a killing in Brownington, or a Chipotle getting good business in Chelsea.
But also, Vermonters have worked hard to keep fast food out of Vermont.
Which is what brings us to the cautionary tale of McDonald's vs. Manchester.
Mike Powers: It just seemed to morph into something that you either were for or you were against.
Sabine Poux: Mike Powers has spent virtually his entire life in Manchester, which is tucked in the southwest corner of the state. He remembers when the Golden Arches tried to move into town in the 1970s.
Mike Powers: It was just a feeling that things were changing, and not for the better by those who opposed, and maybe for the better by those who said this is a good thing.
Sabine Poux: When Mike was growing up in the 40s and 50s, Manchester felt small, tight-knit.
Mike Powers: We had two doctors, two lawyers. Not much going on, really. It was, it was quiet.
Sabine Poux: Mike left his quiet hometown for college. And by the time he returned, Manchester — and Vermont, at large — were on the verge of big changes.
In the 60s and 70s, the interstates expanded through Vermont, literally paving the way for more ski tourism and second homes. Manchester, which is close to big ski resorts like Bromley, was a prime target for outside developers.
Mike saw growth as a predominantly good thing. It meant young Manchesterites like him could return home and find jobs, and set up their adult lives there.
He remembers talking to a reporter at the time about all the change.
Mike Powers: I told him, in my opinion, a lot of people thought of Vermont as red barns and cows and rural roads with dirt on them and sleepy. And I said, that's, that's something that's that's been here, but it's not here much anymore.
I think what's happening in Manchester is a sign of progress. And it was not universally accepted like that.
Sabine Poux: For example: In 1970, Vermont passed Act 250, its signature land-use law, in an attempt to reign in all this development. Mike was on the district commission that reviewed new projects under this new law.
So when McDonald’s came mc-knocking in the late-1970s, Mike found himself with a front row seat to a fierce debate.
Mike Powers: I remember the meetings. There were some pretty caustic remarks made at those meetings, yeah.
Sabine Poux: According to the local papers, some hearings drew as many as 200 opponents. They warned of litter that would be tossed out of people’s car windows, and traffic that would back up an already-busy intersection. The neighbors lawyered up — and McDonald’s brought in its own lawyers.
Molly Lambert was living in Manchester then with her husband, Hank, who was the town manager.
Molly Lambert: All the corporate power, as you can imagine, coming down on a community of 3,200 people … it was just, it was just kind of fun, because, you know, you didn't see a lot of suits and ties in Manchester.
Sabine Poux: Of course, for residents who were anti-McDonald's, this fight against the corporate power wasn’t just about burgers and fries. This was a fight about the image and future of the town itself.
“Manchester totters on the brink of a new era,” was the headline of a 1976 Bennington Banner article about the debate.
Mike Powers: I think at the time, the papers were full of it, and that kept it going. A lot of people just felt that isn't what we are.
Sabine Poux: Some people were excited to have a more affordable food option in town. For his part, Mike said he wasn’t too concerned.
But the local anti-McDonald's lobby put up a good fight. And in the end, they got what they wanted. The town passed a pointed two-year moratorium on new fast food places. And they also banned “high-intensity traffic generators” — a not-so-subtle jab at Mickey D’s.
Ultimately, McDonald’s stood down.
Sabine Poux: But the gargantuan fast food chain was not going down that easily.
A few years later, in 1983, a developer based in New Hampshire announced a new plan to franchise a McDonald’s in Manchester — this time, in a different part of town where traffic was less of a concern. The Golden Arches were back on Manchester’s doorstep.
Brad Meyerson: I heard about it, and I said, “Oh my God, McDonald's in Manchester? This, you know, small, pristine town?” And right away, I said, "I've got to do something about it."
Sabine Poux: Brad Meyerson is a retired attorney who lives in Pawlet. He moved to Manchester in ’83, right after graduating from law school — the same year the new McDonald’s plan became public.
Brad became part of a new cast of fast food foes that picked up the mantle of keeping Manchester McDonald’s free.
Sabine Poux: What sort of struck you so immediately that you immediately were like, I have to do something about this?
Brad Meyerson: It was entirely visceral. You know, McDonald's is just fast food, junk food, you know, garbage on the side of the road. The pervasive, ridiculous advertising, you know — it just, it was something that, to my view, was inconsistent with the character of a small community.
Sabine Poux: Brad threw himself into organizing.
Sabine Poux: And how much time are you spending on this?
Brad Meyerson: Too much. I didn't have kids at the time, and I was building a law practice, but, you know, you just — it was something that I believed strongly against, so I tried to put in as much energy as I could.
Sabine Poux: This was another battle that took years, and it hit a lot of the same beats as the first go round — proponents welcomed an affordable food option, while opponents worried about traffic and littering. The project got bogged down by the permitting process, again.
There was one big difference this time around: the outcome. In the end, McDonald’s won. They got the green light to build a restaurant in Manchester… as long as that restaurant didn’t look like a McDonald’s. The company and town settled on a much more subtle storefront — with a wood-shingled roof and what the then-owner referred to as a “New English” interior. The place opened in 1986.
Sabine Poux: The group that opposed McDonald’s worried about the “new era” it would ring in for Manchester: More litter, more traffic, over commercialization.
Mike Powers: That's the sort of thing that I think went on with people's minds about McDonald's. This is the start, and once it starts, it'll just blossom.
Sabine Poux: Mike Powers, the lifelong Manchester resident, sees the Manchester McDonald’s as a zoning success story. The process took a full decade between both attempts — but in the end, the town and the company ended on a compromise. And it didn’t end up completely changing the character of Manchester.
Mike Powers: Frankly, it hasn't. We still only have really— well, there's a Subway. It's in a room the size of this, you know, it doesn't take any space. It's got one little sign up.
We got the McDonald's, but there isn't any other fast food stuff, national fast food stuff.
Sabine Poux: McDonald’s may not have changed Manchester, but change would still come. Around the same time as all the hullaballoo around the McDonald’s, a developer from New York City put up a bunch of upscale outlets in town. And everyone I spoke to for this story agreed — those outlets came to shape Manchester more than McDonald’s ever did.
Forty years later, McDonald’s is still there, sandwiched between a gift store and a muffler shop. But former anti-McDonald’s organizer Brad Meyerson still refuses to go.
Brad Meyerson: I have never set foot in the McDonald's in Manchester.
I'll go if there's absolutely no other alternative but my spouse, she loves McDonald's. She loves the french fries and the coffee and so on. But, um …
Sabine Poux: A house divided.
Brad Meyerson: Yeah, (laughter) exactly.
For the love of french fries
Sabine Poux: Manchester’s McDonald’s skirmish is a prime example of Vermonters working hard to preserve Vermontiness.
And Manchester wasn’t alone. A developer tried to bring a McDonald’s into Montpelier in the 1990s but the local Planning Commission shut him down — also on the grounds of traffic and parking. Now, Montpelier is, famously, the only state capital in the country without a McDonald’s. But that’s not that impressive of a fun fact because there is a McDonald’s just three miles down the road, in neighboring Barre.
Andrew Van Leuven: It's definitely something that I would assume that, you know, the people in charge of site selection for these restaurants are aware of — that wherever they go, there's going to be a fight.
Sabine Poux: Andrew Van Leuven is an economist at the University of Vermont. With his colleagues, he’s working on a big study about food service in the U.S.
And he says, yep, Vermont is an outlier when it comes to the number of restaurants here. However …
Andrew Van Leuven: However, if you look at sales, so if you look at the number of dollars, just the restaurant sector in Vermont, in New Hampshire, whatever, the story is a little bit different.
Sabine Poux: When it comes to the dollars spent at fast food restaurants, Andrew says, we’re not so different from our New England neighbors. In other words: Vermonters like fast food just as much as people in other states. We just don’t want it to look like we do.
Andrew Van Leuven: We may overstate our value for mom and pop, while still being huge, maybe, closeted fans of, you know, McNuggets and Crunchwrap Supremes.
I still think people do want these, we could say, we can call them amenities, right, within a reasonable distance.
Sabine Poux: What qualifies as a “reasonable distance”? Well, that's totally a personal preference.
So, we asked on Reddit: What’s the furthest you’ve driven for fast food in Vermont?
We got lots of responses. Here are a few of them, read by some Vermont Public colleagues:
u/JeffreyBomondo: My husband and I drive about an hour to either Rutland or St. J when we get the itch for some Taco Bell. The beautiful drive is our appetizer and desert.
u/sunriseslies: We bring an empty cooler on road trips out of state to bring Popeyes home. There's some in my freezer right now.
u/Vermalien: My wife and I used to road trip from Poultney to Troy or Albany for Popeyes. Now that there’s one closer by in Queensbury, it’s not as special, so we don’t go that often anymore.
u/sunriseslies: I've definitely searched "northern-most Sonic" and taken the long way back up from Boston for a cherry limeade.
Sabine Poux: Of all these journeys, I’m most impressed by the ones that involve both land and sea: Those of you who venture across Lake Champlain by boat.
u/Tim_Rosenblower8x: I regularly drive from Pawlet to Plattsburgh for some Chick-fil-A because I love fried chicken and ferry rides.
u/sarahcanary: I live in Burlington and every few months drive to Plattsburgh when Taco Bell cravings take over my senses. I sit in the ferry line feeling ridiculous (the ferry itself costs more than a few tacos) but I unconditionally love Taco Bell. I grew up on Taco Bell, made my way through college on Taco Bell, I survived my stoner years and road trips on Taco Bell, I raised my own kids on Taco Bell. And here I am, at the end of all things, unabashedly traversing the River Styx for Taco Bell.
Sabine Poux: Seeing the lengths Vermonters will go to acquire fast food, it became clear that the journey is an important part of the experience. Maybe a cheap, salty meal tastes even better when it’s hard-fought. I wanted to find out for myself.
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Fried chicken ferry ride
Bair Carlson: I have a play ferry boat at home.
Sabine Poux: You do?
Bair Carlson: It’s a bath one. It’s waterproof!
Sabine Poux: Do you know why we’re taking the ferry boat?
Bair Carlson: No.
Sabine Poux: Hannah, you say why we’re going.
Hannah Carlson: We’re going to go to Chick-fil-A. And we’re going to get chicken sandwiches.
Sabine Poux: This is 31-year-old Hannah Carlson, who I went to college with in Vermont. And her three-year-old son, Bair. We’re on our way to Plattsburgh, New York — about an hour 15 minutes from their home in Essex, Vermont. And we’ll take the ferry boat for a leg of that trip.
Sabine Poux: Do you think it’ll change the way the food tastes to know how far we’ve traveled and how hard we’ve worked to get here?
Hannah Carlson: Oh, definitely. It’s, it’s part of the adventure.
Sabine Poux: Hannah grew up in New Hampshire, which by Vermont standards is practically fast food heaven.
But one of her favorite fast food joints isn’t found in New Hampshire or Vermont: it’s Chick-fil-A, which she tasted for the first time when she was in Georgia hiking the Appalachian Trail.
The closest around here is over state lines, across the lake.
Hannah Carlson: When I found out there was one close to — close enough, I got excited, but I never really, I never really felt the the pull to go until my first pregnancy.
Sabine Poux: And now she’s feeling the pull again. Hannah’s seven months pregnant with her second kid. A girl.
Hannah Carlson: The baby wants Chick-fil-A, right? So.
Sabine Poux: And what baby wants, baby gets.
Hannah Carlson: And baby wants Chick-fil-A.
Sabine Poux: Does a pregnancy craving feel different from another craving?
Hannah Carlson: Yes. Um. It feels like you are going to just cry if you cannot have it. And I have cried before. And the uncontrollable crying is what makes me feel a little bit like, “Oh, this is different.” This is not like, a “Oh, I want some of this right now.” This is, “I need this right now, or I'm just gonna lose it.”
Sabine Poux: We pull up just in time to catch the ferry as it’s leaving.
Hannah Carlson: Hello, how are you?
Ferry attendant: Good who are you?
Hannah Carlson: Good. So there’s two and there's a three year old in the back…
Sabine Poux: I wonder what everyone else is doing here. If anyone’s on a mission quite as odd as ours.
Bair Carlson: I can see the water!
Sabine Poux: We get off the boat and pull into Plattsburgh. It’s so close to Vermont but it’s like this alternate big-box universe.
Sabine Poux: So we’re driving past a lot of chains …
Hannah Carlson: There’s Lowe's, Market 32, Dollar Tree …
Sabine Poux: We roll up to the drive-through window.
Sabine Poux: What are you going to get? Do you know?
Hannah Carlson: I don’t. Because there appear to be more options than the last time I was here.
Chick-fil-A employee: Thank you for choosing Chick-fil-A in Plattsburgh …
Sabine Poux: And then, in true, “When in Rome” fashion, after leaving Chick-fil-A, we go through the Taco Bell drive-through, too.
Hannah Carlson: (Wrappers crunching) Bair, this taco is yours, it is probably very hot, so please do be careful. You are the luckiest boy in America.
Sabine Poux: The journey worth it?
Hannah Carlson: The journey was worth it. Just, yeah. Because I don’t get this every day!
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Credits
This episode was reported by Sabine Poux. Editing and production from the rest of the BLS Team: That’s Burgess Brown and Josh Crane. Our executive producer is Angela Evancie. Theme music by Ty Gibbons; other music by Blue Dot Sessions.
Special thanks to Kari Anderson, Bobby Lussier, Mikaela Lefrak, Jon Ehrens, Zoe McDonald, Phil Edfors, Shawn Harrington, Barbara Baraw, Hank Lambert, Michael Moser and the Redditors who responded to our callout for fast food stories.
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Brave Little State is a production of Vermont Public and a proud member of the NPR Network.
