Here is the front door:
It's crazy. I don't know how people find this place. I only know about it because Laura told me. I think Tammy Geiger told her about it. There is no advertisement that I know of (until now!) and obviously no signage. Sometimes on Saturday he puts an old bicycle out front to catch the eye of would-be buyers.
He.
He is Regan Young ("Ree-gan"), my hero in junk management. From what I can piece together, he demolishes buildings for the salvageable architecture and makes stuff out of the dregs, which he then sells. In the mean time, he stores the stuff in a warehouse in the Lemp Brewery district, which he rents. You can go to the warehouse on Saturdays from 10-5 and buy the stuff... unless it is something that he is "saving" for one of his "projects". I think he has a lot of projects in the works. There is a lot of stuff he refuses to sell me.
This warehouse holds easily one million pieces of junque. The junk merits a "Q" because it is all special. It is all beautiful. After just a few moments in Junque, you can see that every single piece in the warehouse has been carefully chosen, cleaned, and categorized.
Here is the door knob section:
And here is the old-time-heating-grate-department:
When you go, be sure to see the weird-keyhole-plate-thingy-area. These things are pricey:
Today I went with a goal in mind: I needed a dining room table. I recently rearranged the furniture (surprised? Ha!) and have freed up an entire room... the room being the original dining room of my 1930s house which, until recently, was our family room. Until today, all we had for dining was a kitchen breakfast nook which, for 7 people, isn't quite enough on Thanksgiving or Easter.
So I had in mind a table that would involve something creative and unusual as the base, with a 60 inch round piece of table top glass atop it. Junque was the only place I could imagine finding such a creative base for my imaginary table. Maybe I could have found something good at my second favorite store in the world: the concrete and metal garden shop on 255 in Dupo. More on that later.
I got lost going to Junque, as I always do. Once I leave I64 I am a hopeless retard. Usually I see Gus's Pretzels and I'm home free, but today I turned the wrong way. Dork.
I pulled in the back way... I should say that if you have never been to Junque but you have ever watched NYPD Blue, you would think this place is exactly where people get raped and beaten. It is an old brewery complex. Lots of warehouses and gravel. Lots of scary loading docks and abandoned buildings. But it is my favorite store on Earth, remember?!
So I pull up and start salivating. There, in the "recently acquired" pile, are three clawfoot bathtubs and various elevator components. Mmmmmm. Junque-y!
Regan was hard at work moving cool, old stuff around with his friend "Crash". Crash's real name is Richard. He is very tall and looks a little bit like Sean Penn. He had on some sort of biker t-shirt and a head wrap that implied a love of motorcycling. He told me I could call him "Dick" or "Asshole" but I opted for "Crash".
So Regan tells me to go on in, make myself at home. I like to imagine I am his favorite customer. On the day that I first met him, he told me I looked like his old girlfriend. I sort of figure I have a special place in his Junque-y heart, right? I try not to flirt too openly, but I know he has a crush on me.
I spent 2 1/2 hours in Junque. I looked at every piece... twice. I planned a number of wonderful dining room tables only to have Regan talk me out of them because the components were too impractical or too treasured to part with.
But right away I saw this:
This, which I found in the random-things-you-could-use-as-table-tops department, is a 4x6 piece of table glass with a gorgeous beveled edge. Bingo! Now all I needed was a base.
I found this gorgeous (ok... sort of yucky and dirty and old) crate. It was full of marble scraps and Regan did not want to part with it, but I knew it was my perfect table base.
There was much discussion and haggling. Crash was summoned for a second opinion. They doubted its stability. They doubted its practicality. My stomach started to rumble. Pizza arrived. Apparently, Regan decorated/supplied a family of pizzerias and has some sort of special relationship with them. They delivered three pizzas which were SO FREAKIN' DELICIOUS I might have to move to Plaza Frontenac. Here are the remains of the meat pizza:
It was like a bacon cheeseburger with extra cheese served open face. The pizzeria is called "Sugo's" and we should all go there immediately, making them rich beyond their wildest dreams.
Finally, I put my foot down. "I want the damn crate!" I said.
No. Not really. I sort of had to beg. But Regan acquiesced and we loaded the glass and the crate into my car. Once home, Laura helped me unload the 600 pound glass and crate. I vacuumed the crate and soaked that sucker with Old English. Then I gave it a spray of polyurethane. Voila!
How freakin' awesome is THAT?!! I know... really, really awesome.
There was more: a marble triangle, a coveted span of copper... and the kicker?? Crash (Richard) is the owner of my second favorite store on 255 in Dupo!! Here is a rare photo the two creative geniuses together:
It was an unforgettable day, Readers. I need a day of rest before the excitement of the 50-Family sale in Soulard this Saturday.
Until next time, please keep in mind that my birthday is July 7 and this is all I want:
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