On the corner of Broadway and John, Dec. 8, 1911, the Society Theater opened its doors to Seattle’s Capitol Hill neighborhood. Lauded at the time as a feat of theater design, its ornamental exterior and Spanish Mission–style brick frame welcomed up to 500 patrons a night. In its prime, the theater was a central space for neighbors to gather and enjoy plays, motion pictures and live music, including a three-piece orchestra.
In 1921, the theater was renamed the Broadway Theater, later undergoing a remodel in 1940 that lit up the street with its famous neon sign, a neighborhood monument that still stands today. The Broadway Theater continued showing films until its closure in 1990. The space was later gutted and expanded to accommodate a Rite Aid drugstore, though the developers chose to preserve the original marquee, which was repurposed to advertise prescriptions instead of movies.
After Rite Aid filed for bankruptcy in October 2023 and again in May 2025, the Broadway location shuttered its doors that December. The company’s downfall left behind not only vacant retail space but a gaping hole in Seattle’s historic charm.
Across the country, smaller pharmacies have been squeezed out by rising costs, real estate and corporate consolidation. On Seattle’s Broadway strip, that pattern continues. To survive in Seattle today, any business must be resilient enough to weather high rent, inflation and shifting consumer habits. But when the only players strong enough to survive are multinational corporations, neighbors risk losing the creative, independent energy that makes them unique.
That fear is all too real this year. In February 2026, McDonald’s Corporation filed an application to take over the Broadway and John space. Logistically, the move makes sense, as the area has been fiending for a Big Mac since the First Hill location closed in 2017. But truthfully, this is anything but good news.
The McDonald-ization of Broadway may light up the empty space with neon arches and plastic-covered nostalgia, but it comes at the cost of local identity. The trade will come at the cost of a neighborhood memory for yet another sterile symbol of capitalist slop. All over the city, state and nation, small businesses and community character are being priced out or swallowed whole. But they don’t have to be.
Broadway’s long stretch of restaurants, record stores, bars and thrift shops gives the neighborhood its character. Walking down Broadway feels alive, though occasionally chaotic, and always full of character. Still, the street’s liveliness masks the uncomfortable reality that my $7 latte from that cute new café is a direct result of years of gentrification. As the city shifts to attract wealthier residents and tourists, longtime, and especially Black residents, are priced out and displaced. Each time a profit-hungry chain replaces a local business, Seattle loses a small piece of itself. The Rite Aid rebranding may have been the first, but it likely won’t be the last in a growing trend of neighborhood erasure.
But unlike a drugstore, another McDonald’s adds nothing new. The proposed location would sit just a block from Dick’s Drive-In, a beloved Seattle institution that’s stood for decades without abandoning its local roots. Both offer cheap burgers, fries and nostalgia, but only one is a unique part of Seattle’s story. Through rain and shine, devoted Dick’s fans stay loyal to their beloved burger. Sure, it is a great burger, but it’s also a part of the Seattle experience. For generations, the organization has offered good food and a place to gather, all while supporting its workers and regulars. Through fundraisers and employee benefits like healthcare, childcare and paid vacations, the organization remains centered on care for the community. “If your community is thriving, your business will thrive…” says Dick’s Drive-in President Jasmine Donovan. McDonald’s doesn’t build that kind of community memory; it dulls it into the same experience you could have in any strip mall in America.
Of course, there are valid arguments for McDonald’s: it’s affordable, convenient and offers an undeniable familiarity. Some even argue its reliability brings a kind of cultural comfort. But in a city as expensive and space-limited as Seattle, every corner matters. The Broadway and John location, just steps away from the Capitol Hill light rail station, should be used for something far more meaningful than just another fast-food spot. Maybe that’s a community hub, a food bank, a recreation space or a small performance venue that honors the site’s artistic past. Venues like these foster community and connection. They give people reasons to gather that aren’t transactional and that can’t be found anywhere else.
To me, cities work best when they find a balance between local and global, old and new. Seattle should preserve what makes its neighborhoods distinct, remembering that culture grows from people, not profits.
Zoned Out takes a look at local news, policies and politics that shape our daily lives. This column explores how Seattle addresses its biggest challenges around affordability, housing and homelessness, transportation and community development. Jo Moreau is a fourth-year public affairs major.
