A new fast-food restaurant can be welcome news for a community seeking investment. It brings construction, jobs, tax revenue, and the promise of renewed commercial activity. But what happens when that restaurant closes and the building remains vacant for years?
Across the country, former fast-food locations have become persistent redevelopment challenges, even along busy commercial corridors. Chicago's Southland is no exception.
In his latest Substack essay, Southland Development Authority CEO Bo Kemp examines the long-term consequences of restaurant development decisions, including a former Wendy's location in Matteson that has remained vacant since 2018.
Kemp argues that municipalities should look beyond the excitement of opening day and consider a more consequential question: What happens to the property when the original business is gone?
The following essay was originally published on Bo Kemp's Substack.
When Good Burgers Go Bad
How a closed fast-food restaurant becomes a community’s development nightmare.
By Bo Kemp
The Signal
As a kid, I lived near a Der Wienerschnitzel, a fast-food hot dog stand that had a 20-foot hot dog on top of its roof. I relished that building and would come back to see it even after I moved from the area. By the time I had become a teenager, the business had closed but the vacant building remained. For years, I would return to see the hot dog roof and the boarded up building.
Have you ever wondered why a fast-food building stands empty along a busy roadway?
The cars keep passing. The building stays dark.
A nationally recognized fast-food franchise can seem like one of the safest development bets a community can make. There are good reasons to welcome it. But when things go wrong, the consequences can last for years after the doors close. Only then does the community recognize the 25-year decision beneath the opening-day celebration.
This is not hypothetical. Wendy’s reported 286 U.S. franchise closures in its first-half 2026. Pizza Hut recorded another 275 through August. That’s 561 reported closures across just two chains.
Consider the former Wendy’s at 21420 South Cicero Avenue in the Southland’s own Matteson, Illinois. It closed on December 31, 2018. The village said the operator wanted to remain in Matteson but needed a better-performing location and improved design.
Nearly eight years later, an October 2026 listing offered the property for $550,000, with a cleared interior and plans for another restaurant. Meanwhile, Matteson had announced a new Wendy’s at a different address. The franchise still sees Matteson as a viable market but when they abandoned the location, the closure had unexpected consequences that impacted future use of the building.
The Story Beneath the Signal
In my previous car wash essay, I described new construction appearing in places that struggle to attract other investment. Like a new car wash, a national restaurant proposal can create the same sense of relief for communities: someone is finally willing to build here.
For a rural town, an urban neighborhood, or an older suburb in transition, the appeal is understandable. The proposal brings the prospect of construction, jobs, customers, and tax revenue. Any new construction ranging from a drive thru fast food place to a car wash offers something residents can point to after years of asking when development will arrive.
I understand that pressure. The practical alternative may not be a better project next month. More than likely, it’s continued waiting for a viable proposal.
But the decision carries two different timelines: the business opportunity being presented today and the property obligation the community may live with for decades.
The tension is not development versus no development. It is whether the promise of new revenue crowds out a serious discussion of what happens if that business fails and the revenue stops.
The Problem Beneath the Problem
Let’s start with ownership. Take for example McDonald’s. The name on the sign does not tell you who controls the land, the building, or the next use of the building.
The split varies by brand and property. Under McDonald’s conventional franchise model, the corporation generally owns or leases both the land and building; the franchisee pays for equipment, signs, seating, and decor. Contrary to popular perception, McDonald’s is really a real estate company. Wendy’s discloses a mix of company-owned, company-leased, and other franchise-operated properties. A franchisee does not necessarily own the building, and the parent corporation does not necessarily own the land.
That distinction changes the exit when a business closes. A struggling operator may need an immediate solution but lack the authority to sell the property. A corporate or third-party owner may prefer to wait for another operator, a particular tenant, or a better price. Those incentives can differ from the municipality’s need for prompt reoccupation. This is a structural risk, not a verified explanation for the Matteson property.
Restrictions can complicate matters further. In Madison Heights, Michigan, a 2026 municipal memorandum described a former McDonald’s vacant for more than five years, with a covenant prohibiting new restaurant development. The proposed replacement was a $3.7 million office project that included demolition which can often be cost prohibitive.
Then comes the second problem: adaptable does not mean economically viable.
Existing kitchens and utilities can help the next restaurant. But unsuitable layouts, aging systems, and required upgrades can consume those savings. Restaurant industry experts caution against assuming a previously occupied space is cheaper to adapt than an unfinished one.
A building that hypothetically needs $600,000 of work but would be worth only $400,000 afterward does not become a good project because it has excellent foot or car traffic.
In Owego, New York, an attempted conversion of a former Pizza Hut into a barbecue restaurant never opened. The property eventually went to the county land bank and was demolished in May 2026. Floodplain constraints further complicated its future.
The Core Idea
A municipality is approving more than a restaurant. It is approving a long-term use of a highly visible piece of its community.
Not every fast-food location sits on a major roadway, but visibility and traffic are central to many standalone sites. For example, Wendy’s preferred criteria explicitly call for prominent locations and traffic counts of 20,000 or more.
That visibility amplifies the message when the building goes dark. To someone driving past, the explanation may seem obvious: if a national chain couldn’t make it here, who can?
That conclusion may be wrong. The problem could be this operator, this lease, this building, or a restriction nobody can see. Yet the empty property can still become an advertisement against the surrounding community. There is evidence that closure effects extend well beyond one address.
My concern is the potential combination: lost activity, weaker confidence, pressure on surrounding businesses and property values, and a less productive municipal tax base. A property need not stop paying taxes to fall short of the economic contribution the community expected.
The Structure: Approve the First Use With the Second Use in Mind
Look. I’m not arguing against restaurants. What I’m arguing for is something different. I’m talking about the approval process conversations. And they’re organized around these four questions.
Who controls the exit?
Require an ownership and control map identifying the landowner, building owner, operator, franchisor, and relevant lease restrictions. Establish who can authorize a replacement use. Do not confuse a promise from the operator with an obligation accepted by the property owner.
What else would actually work here?
Require two plausible replacement uses, including one outside food service, with preliminary conversion costs and realistic local rents. Favor layouts, utilities, and removable branding that reduce avoidable conversion expenses. And labeling something “future retail” is not an economic analysis.
What could prevent the next use?
Review proposed deed restrictions, ground leases, and other limits before approval. Where legally available, negotiate restrictions that expire rather than obstruct reuse indefinitely. Pair those expectations with a clear municipal pathway for compatible conversions.
Who is responsible when the lights go out?
Establish closure-notification, security, maintenance, and reuse-planning obligations with the responsible parties. Where public assistance is involved, tie benefits to documented performance. Any financial security or repayment requirement should address defined risks and be reviewed by municipal counsel for legal authority and proportionality.
What This Looks Like in Practice
The answer to a restaurant proposal can still be yes. But it becomes a yes accompanied by an adaptable building, understood ownership, credible replacement scenarios, and enforceable maintenance responsibilities. The municipality offers predictable approvals in return, not an obstacle course.
The Move
Before the next approval, add one page to the staff report: “After the First Tenant.” Identify who controls the property, what could replace the restaurant, what the conversion would cost, and what could block it. Leave unanswered questions visible.
Final Thought
The next time you pass an empty fast-food building on a busy road, do not assume the neighborhood failed. Ask whether the original deal left the property a workable future.
Twenty-five years is a planning horizon, not a prediction of how long the restaurant will survive. The building and site can shape the community long after the original business is gone.
A Question for You
Which former fast-food building in your community has stayed empty, and what has actually prevented its next use? Reply to this email or leave a comment.
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What does sustainable economic development really look like, and how can communities make decisions today that strengthen their economies for decades to come?
Southland Development Authority CEO Bo Kemp explores these questions in his Substack, sharing perspectives on commercial development, regional investment, entrepreneurship, public policy, and the economic future of Chicago's Southland.
Read more from Bo Kemp and subscribe to his Substack for his latest insights into the challenges and opportunities shaping communities across the Southland and beyond.
About the Southland Development Authority
The Southland Development Authority, a not-for-profit economic development organization, is committed to driving equitable and sustainable economic growth in the South Suburbs of Chicago. Through innovative programs, strategic partnerships and impactful direct investments, the SDA is building a vibrant, inclusive economy that drives wealth growth for individuals, businesses and municipalities. Combined with the benefits of the South Suburban Land Bank and the Monarch Fund, the SDA serves as a model for regional development.
