Sometimes a gift does not come wrapped or boxed. Sometimes a gift you asked for turns out to be the best gift you have given. That was the case this Christmas.
A few days before the big day, I told my husband there was something he could give me for Christmas. I asked him to take me to see the family hardware store in Oak Park. Of course, the business had closed up some 30 or so years ago ... but the building was still there, and I wanted to see it.
I had heard the stories on occasion over the years, vague references really, about the family hardware store. I have a natural interest in family history to begin with, and I was curious. Oak Park is a suburb just outside of the city of Chicago, an older suburb with its own venerable history and at the turn of the century (the other century) was the architectural playground for Frank Lloyd Wright. It is perhaps an hour’s drive straight east from our house.
So. What was there to stop us? I wanted to go. I did not tell him I felt this request was as much for him as for me. Or at least I hoped so.
Christmas Day arrived with merriment and hugs and stories of its own. But no indication from Bob whether I would receive my wish.
The day after Christmas was an extended holiday from work so we both had a free day. I took a chance and brought up the subject in the morning ... held my breath ... and wrangled a yes out of him. We would go to Oak Park! We would visit the hardware store! We would see what was left of it -- if anything.
To my delight, the drive to the hardware store was just as enjoyable as the destination. We traveled along old Roosevelt Road, shunning the faster expressway, and soon my husband was remarking on one familiar landmark after another. Such and such is still there ... or I remember that place. Memories of people from his college era, from his early work, of family members long dead, but still dear, came to his mind in a monologue of reminiscences. We were smiling, and I swear we were suddenly younger.
Then we were there.
He found the building where his family ran the hardware store as easily as if he had been there just the week before. Some things come back to you as naturally as opening your eyes on awakening. Our experience there was very moving. It was good for me. It was good for him. And mostly it was good for us. We shared it. That was the gift I was really hoping for.
The ground floor of the old hardware store had been converted into a very lively coffee shop whose owners serve up more than tasty dishes and straightforward, decent coffee. They embrace the concept of neighborhood and encourage local talent through live music nights and displays of their artwork on the walls. The upstairs they have made available for local clubs and organizations to meet. And the back corner of the shop is set aside as a kids’ play area for patrons. We discovered a very heart-felt, welcoming atmosphere. I was compelled to write to the owner that evening after our visit. Here is what I had to say:
The hardware store at 905 S. Lombard in Oak Park played an important role in my husband Bob’s growing up years. His grandfather built the building around 1910 of hand-poured concrete walls, hardwood floors, tin ceiling and oak trim. The second floor was an apartment for he and his wife to live and raise their two sons. One son was my husband’s father.
Today Bob and I visited the old hardware store, which is now the Buzz Cafe. We’ve been married for 43 years and have never left the western suburbs. But this was the first time I had ever seen the building, and the first time that my husband had returned. Sometimes it’s a matter of waiting till the time is right. I believe we had waited just long enough.
We walked through the door to the Buzz Cafe, sat at a table and ordered some coffee. The physical presence of the bustling cafe and its many patrons seemed to disappear as Bob painted a picture with words to describe how he remembered his grandfather’s hardware store.
I noticed the floor first. The old floor boards told a story of long time use but still sturdy condition. Bob told me about the many times he had swept those floors. His grandfather would drop a few coins from the register here and there in that long space for his grandchildren to find as they swept.
The long east wall held built-in cabinets with glass fronts. The shelves and compartments held all the nuts and bolts and doo-dads that people required in the days when they did their own household renovations and repairs. Back then the hardware store really sold hardware and held as vital a position in a family’s life as the corner grocery store.
There was a counter that ran the length of the store in front of the cabinets, Bob remembered. Customers would come up to the counter with their list of items that they needed. Short lists, long lists. Sometimes questions. The hardware store was also a place for advice and exchange of techniques and ideas. You bought your nuts and screws but often took home something of greater value ... tips that would prevent disaster and wasted time.
At the far end of the hardware store, where the kids’ play area is now, was a walled off bedroom and kitchenette. This was added for the grandparents at the time when the upstairs apartment became home to one of the two sons’ growing families.
The opposite long wall contained shelves to the ceiling filled with assorted paint cans. Bob said that there were two rolling ladders that they would use to retrieve just the right color or style of paint for their customers. Anyone who has struggled to reach what they want in today’s Disneyland parody of a hardware store can appreciate the ingeniousness of this simple solution.
The older son John, my husband’s father, had two daughters, followed by Bob and his younger brother John. Bob’s Uncle Walter had four daughters. These grandchildren of the original owners of the hardware store spent much of their childhood at the family store. The time frame was the 1940’s and 50’s. This was still the era when Males were king ... of everything. Bob and his brother were the only boys in that next generation, and Bob, being the older, was on the throne. I believe his father, his uncle and his grandfather showered him with special privileges, although to a kid, it may have seemed like extra work.
They taught him the “trade” and Bob grew up learning about the sheet metal side business that they operated in the basement. He helped hang gutters on some of those huge houses that Oak Park is renowned for. He knew what all those doo-dads were and how they were used. He overheard or was imparted with the secrets of successful do-it-yourselfers. His younger brother John learned all this too, but Bob was first. It is a subtle distinction that was ingrained in their German heritage.
As time went by, Bob’s father took over the hardware business and eventually shared that responsibility with his younger brother Walter. As Bob grew older, his association with the operation of the hardware store dwindled and was replaced with high school, girls and football. He grew up in a modest home in Glen Ellyn that his father built around 1949, a short time after Bob was born.
If you come to our home, you will see the influence of the hardware store in Bob’s life. We have lived in our brick American four-square since 1973 (I was a very young bride - wink wink). Not long after we moved there, he doubled the size of our two-car garage and added on a second story for storage. As you walk through the narrow winding paths of our overstuffed garage, you will see floor-to-ceiling shelves, tool chests galore, little compartments and jars full of doo-dads, gizmos, tools and equipment in seeming disarray, but actually very well organized and ready for the next project.
Bob not only knows a little about everything when it comes to maintaining a home, but he has a gift for doing everything to perfection. You may say, no, it can’t be perfect or it is not hand-made! Well, I disagree. I am witness to his abilities and his unrelenting expectation of quality.
His brother John also shows the benefits of that same early influence. He lives on a beautiful piece of land in western Tennessee with his wife and runs his own motor repair business. His shop has the same look of organized disarray that is evident in Bob’s garage. They know what they’re doing, and if they are lucky, their own sons and daughters will inherit their knowledge and tenacity.
In its time, the hardware store was a place of dreams and hard work. That’s what it took to build the business. That’s what they sold to their customers along with supplies. And today it is still a place of dreams and hard work.
Our experience at the Buzz Cafe was warm and welcoming. Jessica showed a sincere interest in our story and graciously allowed us to snoop around a bit and dust off Bob’s nostalgia and renew his closeness to that time in his life.
The cafe acknowledges and supports and reveres its place in the neighborhood and strengthens the local sense of community. The caring and innovation that sustains the Buzz Cafe is evident. We will have to return to try out that delicious looking menu!
Though it no longer offers doo-dads for sale, it is heart-warming to see that in this building is still a family business that cares about doing it right and about putting people first. May your values enable you to continue your dream and to pass it along to others.
Here is the only photo that survives from those bygone days:
The photo above was taken in the dining room of the upstairs apartment of the hardware store. I don’t know a lot about the photo, but I’ll tell you what I do. It was obviously a special occasion, a holiday perhaps. The two boys in the picture were most likely Bob’s father and his uncle. The man on the far left is the grandfather and next to him is somebody and next to him is the grandmother. I believe only the men have their glasses raised in a toast. The woman standing in the back was hired as a server, not uncommon in those days. 1920’s? The swinging door in the back left led to the kitchen area and had a little peek-a-boo window to avert dish-laden accidents!
