Amy Merrick considers the ironies of Cabela’s, the big-box chain for outdoorsmen:
Today, Cabela’s has $3.5 billion in annual revenue. Its 50 stores look like enormous log cabins, and
inside of them hundreds of taxidermied animals grapple in lifelike poses—grizzlies rear up, rams stand atop plaster mountains like figures on a wedding cake. Cabela’s exhibits have been described as “natural-history museums,” and its stores are billed as tourist destinations. When a Cabela’s opened this past October, in Waco, Texas, people lined up outside for hours in the rain, starting at 8:00 A.M. on the previous day.
The growth of Cabela’s reflects Americans’ odd relationship with the outdoors: we mythologize it even as we pave it over. To accommodate their bulk and the crowds that they attract, Cabela’s stores are often built next to interstates and surrounded by giant parking lots. Generally, the only wildlife in sight are the crows picking over the litter. Some of the newest branches are on the edges of cities—Denver, Austin—that epitomize sprawl. In Greenville, South Carolina, where Cabela’s plans to open on a congested retail strip in April, other retailers are worried that traffic jams will scare away their customers.
(Photo of a Cabela’s display in Reno, Nevada, by Flickr user RenoTahoe)
The Dish 