Little Falls Community Co-op Celebrates 50 Years of Nourishing the Community

By Dave Warner

LITTLE FALLS, N.Y. — In a City where history and community ties run deep, the Little Falls Community Co-op is marking a milestone: its 50th anniversary. What began as a grassroots effort in the early 1970s to access natural, unprocessed foods has evolved into a staple storefront offering healthful choices, supplements, and local goods.

Open to the public without membership requirements, the co-op at 589 Albany St. continues to embody its mission of food accessibility and supporting local growers, even as it navigates modern challenges like competition from big-box stores and the rise of online shopping.

The co-op’s origins trace back to a time when organic and minimally processed foods were scarce in mainstream supermarkets. Tony DeLuca, one of the founders and executive director of the local YMCA, now named the Youth and Family Center, recalls the era’s growing awareness of nutritional benefits.

“It was coming out of the 60s and into the early 70s where people realized that if you eat natural food or organic food that’s minimally processed or raw or unadulterated with additives and preservatives and all that stuff, it was better for your health,” DeLuca said. “The availability of those products was minimal. You couldn’t find them in the regular supermarket. So in essence, we were in a sort of food desert kind of thing.”

A group of friends, including DeLuca, convened at the YMCA to brainstorm solutions. They connected with a supplier willing to deliver bulk orders to Little Falls for a minimum amount, around $500. Meetings were held upstairs at the Y, where they presented product lists and coordinated group purchases. “We’d have to buy 25 pounds of cashews or 50 pounds of peanuts or a 50-pound sack of whole wheat flour,” DeLuca explained. “We’d have to buy the whole bag, and we would have to dispense it when we got it. Everybody in the room had to take their allotment, because we didn’t have any storage.”

The operation started modestly, using the basement kitchen of the Presbyterian church across the street for unloading and dividing shipments. Volunteers were committed to helping unload trucks and portion out items, with a small markup to cover bags, twist ties, and markers. “We added a few cents a pound to cover that,” DeLuca said. This monthly routine lasted a couple of years, but as demand grew, the group eyed a more permanent solution.

By the mid-1970s, they secured a second-floor storefront above a pub called The Dugout on Main Street, renting it cheaply. DeLuca, who became the Y’s executive director in August 1975, leveraged government-funded programs like CETA (Comprehensive Employment and Training Act) to hire workers for renovations and operations. “We had these people working here, and they were not only fixing up the Y… but also this new storefront,” he recalled. The space had a ground-level alley entry for deliveries, easing logistics, though customers had to climb stairs.

The co-op’s big leap came when the Holy Family Parish offered to sell the shuttered St. Joseph’s Church on Albany Street for $35,000, spread over 10 years—a “sweetheart deal” focused on community benefit rather than profit.

Contractors like Jimmy Siller and architect Tony Carlisto helped transform the building into its current form. “We undertook that project and got some friendly contractors involved,” DeLuca said. Equipment like scales, refrigeration, and point-of-sale systems were added, marking a shift from volunteer-driven bulk dividing to a full-fledged store.

The guiding principle remained “food for people, not for profit,” with markups of just 10-15% to cover costs. “If we could break even or get a little bit more… so that we could reinvest in some equipment, give our employees a raise, pay all our expenses, we were happy,” DeLuca noted.

Today, under the management of Robin Safford, who took over three years ago, the co-op maintains that ethos while adapting to contemporary realities. Open Tuesday through Saturday with varying hours—10 a.m. to 5 p.m. on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, extended to 6:30 p.m. on Thursdays, 5:30 p.m. on Fridays, and 1 p.m. on Saturdays—the store sees 85 to 100 customers daily. Sales range from small $5 purchases to larger $300 orders, focusing on supplements, bulk dried fruits, nuts, oats, flours, and spices.

Safford highlights the co-op’s strengths in staples like bulk spices, where customers can buy a teaspoon of arrowroot for 60 cents instead of an $8 jar elsewhere. Local products shine, including brands like Sleepy Bear LLC honey, Heidelberg Bread, and Saratoga Peanut Butter Company. “The right side of the store… from the cashier back is our main sales area: supplements and all the bulk,” Safford said. “The spices are another huge sale item… You can buy 1-pound bags for barbecues or canning.”

However, challenges persist. Grocery items face stiff competition from chains like Price Chopper and Walmart, which now stock organic and gluten-free options at lower prices. “Years ago… you really didn’t have an option for gluten-free, vegan, and organic foods locally,” Safford explained. “Today, they’re everywhere… and unfortunately, it’ll be cheaper because they’re bigger.”

The co-op lacks e-commerce, limiting it to an “on-demand store” for instant gratification. Safford is considering curbside pickup for regulars next spring but rules out full online sales due to the small staff size. “We’re still way too small a staff to take that,” she said. To boost traffic, she’s eyeing reinvention: paring down stagnant sections and introducing a small coffee and tea area with fair-trade, organic options. “I want to just put it in a small area where you can get coffee or tea… almost like an old-school candy store type feel,” Safford shared.

Advertising efforts, like ads at the local movie theater, have drawn new customers more effectively than traditional newspapers. Yet awareness remains an issue. “I’ve sold houses to people 10 years ago… and I say, ‘Do you know about the co-op?’ They have no idea,” Safford lamented.

Nationally, small businesses face closures, but Safford is optimistic. “I’m happy we’re still here… We’re holding our own, we’re paying our bills. We’re putting a little bit away,” she said. Volunteers still play a role, earning discounts, but paid staff handle most operations to ensure compliance and efficiency.

The co-op’s website, littlefallscommunityco-op.com, showcases its commitment to community and lists brands like Burt’s Bees, Dr. Bronner’s Soap, and Mountain Rose Herbs. While no specific 50th anniversary events are planned, the milestone underscores decades of resilience. Recent Facebook posts highlight local herbs, bouquets, and products like Badger Balm, reinforcing community ties.

DeLuca reflects on the journey’s challenges, now amplified by the widespread availability of once-niche items. “The products are more available… but we still have a unique niche,” he said. Early managers like Mary, who shifted from art history to leading the co-op, embodied the passion driving its success.

As Little Falls evolves—with its arts scene, historic charm, and scenic beauty—the co-op remains a vital hub. Safford aims to target untapped demographics by blending healthy choices with broader appeal. “We’re in a small city and we have a population we’re not hitting… Even if I can somehow steer it towards the healthier choices,” she said.

In an era of economic uncertainty, the co-op’s story is one of persistence. From bulk bags divided in a church basement to a thriving store supporting locals, it continues nourishing bodies and community spirit—50 years strong.