Yippee. Nordstrom will now stop staging snit fits over staying or going. It can gather up all its Kate Spade bags and Bur- berry hair scrunchies and sink its anchor deep in the heart of downtown. This decision goes miles toward slowing the steady decline of Main Street.

No one ever expected the LDS Church to sit back and watch the neighborhood bordering its most sacred properties crumble. The late N. Eldon Tanner, a member of the church's First Presidency from 1963 to 1982 and a powerful force in planning the Salt Lake we have now, frequently characterized downtown as "the church's living room." Tanner reasoned that you wouldn't invite the world to your home, then open the front door to a ratty living room all shuttered up or pandering smut.

So, sure, the church stepped up. No one involved is talking specifics of this contract. But retail industry experts say the bargain between Nordstrom and the church tallies up to mega-millions. Better parking is a given, and a whopping discount on rent - if not a period of free rent altogether - is all but certain. The deal had to be sweet, knowing that Nordstrom will almost certainly have to close on Sunday.

While we're all standing around smiling and backslapping and planning our shopping strategy for the next semi-annual Nordie shoe sale, let's not forget someone else who helped clinch this victory: Daniel Darger, owner of the Crazy Goat Saloon. Pardon one more stretch of the metaphor, but if downtown is the Mormon faith's living room, Darger has been the big, loud party crasher, the guy who shows up at your dinner uninvited and simply will not leave.

For nearly a year, Darger, a lawyer by trade and owner of the former Dead Goat at Arrow Press Square, has been fighting the city and the LDS Church to accommodate his switch from a beer and blues bar to a strip joint. As of this writing, the future of Darger's sexually oriented business license lies with the 3rd District Court. Darger's strippers perform on the club's western-most stage, which lies within 165 feet of West Temple - too close to a "gateway corridor."

Darger serves a big purpose in this town, and even had his influence on the Nordstrom outcome. He is symbolic of what can happen when a once-thriving business and retail center cracks and crumbles. Property values plummet and low-rent tenants burrow in. Darger is the first to admit his change in "format" was financially driven. Demand for live music was falling. Costs were soaring. The club was failing. He rustled up some swiveling hips and jiggling breasts and presto! Problem solved.

No matter your feeling about the 800-pound religious and business gorilla in this town, it is to no one's advantage to let Salt Lake City wither into a ramshackle, low-rent district. Anyone in search of T&A can trundle three miles north on Beck Street for it.

And keep hoping that someone like Darger crashes the party now and then.

hmullen@sltrib.com