NYC24: People Die, Stuff Lives
This story was cross-published by the Queens Tribune.
Objects take on a life of their own after their owner’s death, finding their way into hipster living rooms, immigrant kitchens and even to the developing world.
NYC24.com: People Die, Stuff Lives
By Lisa Biagiotti and Kenan Davis
As his finger smoothed across the plastic sleeve of a 1764 shilling, the silver finish flickered in the white florescent light. Nick DiMola figured the coin was handed down to him - not by will or promise, but because he was the last person to see value in it.
DiMola, owner of DiMola Bros. Rubbish Removal, cleans out an average of 15 homes a month, often in the wake of death. And unless he salvages these remnants, they are headed directly to the dumpster, to be forgotten forever.
In a warehouse in Ridgewood, Queens, DiMola has curated a personal museum of other people’s junk. Decal signs, gold teeth, receipts from the 1930s, crutches, wedding portraits and a menagerie of pre-1970 memorabilia blanket every surface of his office.
“You’re looking back in history when you find a piece of garbage,” said thirty-eight-year-old DiMola, flipping the coin from side to side. “Every job I go on I find something interesting, it could be a coin, a stamp, it could be anything.”
DiMola ranks last in the hierarchy of people and businesses designated to sort out the physical property of the dead. An object takes on a life of its own after an owner’s death, finding its way into hipster living rooms, immigrant kitchens and even to the developing world.
“Stuff has lives—I do believe that things are not inanimate and that they have history and that history is to be honored,” said Kristin P. Bergfeld of Bergfeld’s Estate Clearance. “To throw away something that someone else can use, to me, is just distasteful. There are too many people who need a bookshelf or a pair of boots.”
For more than 20 years, Bergfeld has worked with grieving families to orchestrate the transfer of belongings to new homes. She has found creative solutions to re-purpose and reuse stuff, directing the flow of contents to auction blocks, thrift shops and religious community centers.
GOING ONCE, GOING TWICE…SOLD!
“New York City doesn’t lend itself to garage sales, it usually involves a third party,” said Max Drazen of Tepper Galleries, the oldest auction house in the city. Death presents a major source of inventory for Tepper’s 25 general auctions a year, which display more than 1,000 items with price tags ranging from $5 to $500,000.
The items that cannot sell at auction usually find their way to thrift store shelves.
There are approximately 25,000 thrift stores and consignment shops across the country, said Adele Meyer, executive director of National Association of Resale and Thrift Shops. In New York City, Housing Works, a charity dedicated to fighting AIDS and homelessness, has opened three new shops in the last three years.
In Long Island City, 47,000 black plastic garbage bags pile up at Housing Works’ 10,000 square-foot processing and distribution center. The facility sends an average of 25,000 articles of clothing, shoes and accessories to its seven thrift shops per month, according to operations director Erica Hudson.
“The environment has a lot to do with it and I think people like the idea of reuse,” said Keith Mancuso, Housing Works’ director of business marketing. “It’s definitely had a resurgence. It’s becoming more mainstream, especially in New York.”
But while thrift stores accept almost everything, some items are not fit for resale. The warehouses of rag companies like Trans-Americas Trading Company, a textile-recycling factory in Clifton, N.J., mark the next stop for unwanted garments.
Eric Stubin, president, said that 45 percent of the second-hand clothing he purchases from thrift stores is usable. He ships about 6 million pounds a year to developing regions like sub-Saharan Africa and converts the remaining rags—70,000 pounds per day—into materials for the wiper and fiber industries.
“Donate to charities first, recycle as a second option, but don’t throw it away,” Stubin said. “We are a final alternative before the landfill.”
FINAL RESTING PLACE
But sometimes the garbage is the only option. And that means these items are headed directly to the dumpster, unless DiMola salvages the discarded artifacts.
DiMola stores taped up boxes in the mezzanine of his of warehouse. He can tell by the newspaper stuffing what year the box was packed. He unwraps items carefully, sometimes pausing to read the news in the decades-old paper.
“In the garbage business, everyday is Christmas,” said DiMola, who sat looking at a tarnished 1910 sousaphone, boxing gloves and a fedora hanging from a shelf. “The family don’t want to bring a lot of the old stuff back because they don’t appreciate it.”
The stuff he doesn’t want or can’t give away to family and friends - usually vintage kitchenware - he sells on eBay, netting approximately $1,500 a month.
But for the rest, even Nick DiMola must take it to the landfill.
“It was going in the garbage in the beginning, and I was trying to save it, but you can only save so much,” DiMola said. “I think I do a pretty good job saving what I could.”
Theme design by Borja Fernandez.