The battle to keep Walgreens open in Chicago’s Sixth Ward in the Chatham community is about more than prescriptions. It is about the changing nature of neighborhood retail, corporate responsibility, race, and the realities of doing business in urban America.
The Chatham Walgreens lease has expired. They have chosen not to renew the lease, which is up on June 4, because of “theft and violence.”
“It should be a crime the way they’re treating our elders… it should be a crime the way they’re treating our families.” Alderman William E. Hall
Alderman William E. Hall deserves credit for standing firmly with his constituents. His concern is legitimate. Seniors in the Sixth Ward rely heavily on nearby pharmacies for medications, health consultations, and daily necessities. For many elderly residents, especially those without reliable transportation, convenience is not a luxury — it is survival. A neighborhood Walgreens is often more than a drugstore; it becomes part of the community’s health-care network, providing everything from milk and diapers to medication and beauty products.
But Walgreens’ struggles cannot be viewed through emotion alone. The Walgreens that Chicago once knew no longer exists in the same way. For decades, Walgreens was the neighborhood pharmacy of record. It dominated the prescription market and became a trusted fixture in communities across Chicago. Today, however, the pharmacy business has changed dramatically.
Walgreens no longer enjoys exclusivity. Prescriptions can now be filled almost anywhere — grocery chains like Jewel-Osco, Mariano’s, warehouse retailers like Costco, and competitors such as CVS Pharmacy have transformed the market. Meanwhile, many independent neighborhood pharmacies have disappeared entirely. Walgreens lost the monopoly-like position it once enjoyed, and with that came declining market share and increased competition.
The company itself has also changed. Ownership structures, corporate leadership, and business priorities have shifted repeatedly over the years. The modern Walgreens experience reflects those changes, and not always for the better.
Shopping at Walgreens today can feel less like customer service and more like customer suspicion. Everyday items — toothpaste, mouthwash, cold medicine — are locked behind glass cases. Customers must hunt down an employee with a key just to buy basic hygiene products. In many stores, after receiving the item, shoppers are escorted to the register to ensure they make payment immediately.
That is not convenient. That is humiliation and insult.
Walgreens argues that store closures are driven by theft, robbery, and rising security costs. Certainly, retail theft is real and costly. But an uncomfortable question remains: when major retailers close stores in Black communities, why are crime and pilferage so often presented as the primary explanation? Is this a legitimate business calculation applied equally across all communities, or is it part of a long-standing stereotype unfairly attached to Black neighborhoods?
That question deserves honest discussion.
Communities on Chicago’s South and West Sides have historically faced disinvestment, and residents are understandably skeptical when corporations cite “crime” as justification for leaving. Too often, Black neighborhoods are viewed only through the lens of risk rather than opportunity. At the same time, no business — whether in the Bronzeville neighborhood, the South Loop, or suburban America — can ignore financial losses indefinitely. Target left the Chatham community for the same reasons as Walgreens.
This is the difficult crossroads facing Walgreens and the Sixth Ward.
Alderman William Hall is doing what elected officials are supposed to do: fight for services that matter to the people who elected him. He is advocating for seniors, families, and residents who do not want another major retailer to disappear from their neighborhood. That advocacy matters.
Still, Walgreens must also be viewed through a business lens. Corporations make decisions based on profit margins, operational costs, and shareholder expectations, not sentimentality or civic loyalty. The challenge for Chicago leaders is determining how to preserve essential neighborhood services while also confronting the deeper issues that make businesses reluctant to stay.
And perhaps there is another question worth asking — not just about Walgreens, but about public leadership itself.
As one who supported Alderman Hall at the launch of his political career, I find myself wondering out loud: In standing up so publicly for the community today, does he also remain accessible to the people who helped put him in office? Does he return phone calls?
Because advocacy is not only about press conferences and public battles. It is also about responsiveness, relationships, and accountability.
The Walgreens fight is ultimately a mirror reflecting larger truths about Chicago: changing commerce, aging communities, racial perception, neighborhood dignity, and political responsibility.
The Sixth Ward deserves solutions, not slogans.
