The Best Reason To Live In Cleveland
The Best Reason To Live In Cleveland
Best Kept Secrets of Old Commodity Fetishism Revealed
"A commodity appears at first sight an extremely obvious, trivial thing. But its analysis brings out that it is a very strange thing, abounding in metaphysical subtleties and theological niceties"
There are two seasons in Cleveland: sunny and cloudy. In the sunny season, I garden. In the cloudy season, I thrift.
Thrifting is dirty, hands-on history that satisfies a bit of my entrepreneurial (a fancy word for gambling) impulses. These bowls are a find from last year, from the awesome midcentury Norwegian potters Elle Norway that I found at the Best Savers In Cleveland (subscribers only!).
The photograph below is one of my most beloved finds (found at the Second Best Goodwill In Cleveland Subscribers Only). It has a pink $4.00 price tag on the back, but at Goodwill, every week 2 different colors are on sale, usually for 1/2 off. So I either paid $4 or $2 for it, if pink was a color of that week.
It’s a beautiful, haunting piece of art. I figured it was a poster or low-quality print of an old photograph. Still, I turned over the frame, which had a stamp from the May Company, that famous Cleveland department store, ripped the paper off, and removed the cardboard from the back.
The paper is clearly higher quality than I imagined. I don’t know what the paper that an old photographic print would be printed on should feel like, but it seems pretty much like it should feel like this. Textury.
I studied the signature. “W. E. somethingsomethingsomething.” I stared at it hard. I consider the irony that I could not read the signature, since I’ve spent the past 2 years answering questions about not being able to read cursive because of my book on handwriting. I decided to google “W. E. assonmille”
Google is amazing.
I quickly discovered the print is a view of San Francisco’s Telegraph Hill by W. E. Dassonville, a California photographer who some say is unjustly lesser-known than Steichen and other pictorialists. He was friends with John Muir and a member of the California Camera Club. I wonder who owned this print, and how it ended up in Goodwill with a pink $4.00 tag that might have meant $2.00. Which is another way of saying I thought about death. I eventually sold it, netting a tidy $900. Which was fun. But to be honest I miss this photo, and the questions I have about its provenance, how it ended up on the floor leaning against the botanical prints and mass-produced minimalist instant-office-decor at Savers, and wish I had kept it.
My thrifting hobby started with books, which should surprise no one. I have haphazardly collected books for years, and so at every Goodwill or Savers or Salvation Army —but never at Volunteers for America, because they use a wretched red grease pencil and scrawl the price right on the dustjackets—I hit the books first. A few months ago, at the Best Goodwill on the West Side (okay fine—the one on Lorain—yes there I go, giving away my secrets, see below), I picked up a copy of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and found that magical number 1 at the far left of the number line, underneath the copyright information, which also included the words First Edition. Right there in between the James Pattersons and the Fifty Shades of Grays was what I knew was a book others wanted, and would pay more than the $1.99, minus 50%, because it was half-off Monday, that I would pay for it. The next day I listed my first printing of The Road online, and two weeks later $150 was deposited into my checking account from someone with a Manhattan address. Other notable recent finds include a first edition of Napoleon Hill’s Think and Grow Rich, which I bought only because of the funny title, but turns out to be extremely collectible ( $850); a signed Steinbeck ($200; it was not a first edition, sadly), an 1850 edition of Treatise on Anatomy, Physiology, and Hygiene ($75), a first printing of Joan Didion’s The White Album ($130), a 19th century edition of Blackstone’s Commentary ($85), a first of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood ($85); an 1835 biography of Benjamin Franklin ($100), and more.
While researching my thrifting finds I often stumble across information I can use the next time I am out sourcing. For instance, somewhere, down some internet rabbit hole, I learned that some playing cards are collectible. At The Best East Side Goodwill I found a pack that looked old and was still in shrink-wrap, went home and listed it for $75, and it sold in two hours. I took a friend out to dinner that night.
Now here is the takeaway, the information you too, readers of this Chronicle, can use to your advantage, financial and geographical: Cleveland has the best thrift stores in the nation. On this I am an unabashed booster! I have researched this subject thoroughly, logging many hours and miles examining rival city and town thrift stores: in Columbus, in Phoenix, in the Berkshires, in Indiana, in Oregon. No matter where I travel I wander aisles deflated, missing home. “It’s always better in Cleveland” I sigh, turning over china to see the hallmark.
I do not have a terribly good theory for this, but I have some hypotheses: lots of old money, dying off; a richer, cosmopolitan past that exceeds the means and sophistication of the present; a paucity of others like me, perusing shelves for finds (I will regret this post if I see you at Value World this weekend!); God’s way of offering me a measure of grace, allowing me to jump in my car on a cold lonely February evening to spend a magical hour wandering the wares section, listening to pop music, the internet and troubling relationships and work far far away.
And now, as a present to you, my readers, My Greatest Secrets Revealed:
The Best Thrift Stores In Cleveland
Goodwill in North Olmsted
Goodwill at Lee Harvard
Savers on Center Ridge Road
Salvation Army on E 55th (esp furniture)
Volunteers of America in North Olmsted
ReStore in North Randall
Value World in North Randall
Goodwill on Shaker Square
Savers on Brookpark
Hospice of the Western Reserve on Mayfield Road
Cleveland Chronicles is a record of life in Cleveland throughout 2019 as filtered through the lens of the chronicler. Sign up to receive new posts via email. Subscribe to support the project or read previous posts. I take posts down from the web after a bit.