Local supporters committed themselves to saving it, whatever it was and is. Fund-raisers were held to help cover legal bills. Some rolled up their sleeves and pitched in to help make some of the changes the city required. Parts of the structure were dismantled and tons of debris were removed. The national media reported the story with an odd observer’s curiosity, while the local media framed it as old-school cool Austin versus new money Austin. The city and Hannemann reached a deal and the cathedral remained with a few changes.
You have to make an appointment to visit the cathedral today. I called seven times to schedule one. I left messages six times explaining why I wanted to visit and that I wished to interview Hanneman for my book. No messages were returned. On lucky call number seven, Hanneman picked up the phone. He told me I could come by the next morning. I asked him if I could interview him and he said yes.
Pulling up to this quiet street I thought maybe I had the wrong address. But then I saw a few other folks looking around curiously. One group was European and the others were hipsters from California. We all converged upon the driveway of a small, unassuming, single-level home. Hannemann asked for a ten-dollar donation. We each paid and he told us to just go in and how to climb up the back of the structure. Hannemann was wearing black pants and a black-and-white striped referee top.
The cathedral is really incredible, as in it is barely believable. It is a testament to Hannemann’s vision and skill that he could take all this junk, and it really is just junk, and marry it together in a way that makes so much sense but no sense at all. As you walk through a passageway and under a pergola of used bike spokes, hubcabs, bed springs, and crutches, you feel like you could be walking from one dimension into another. There’s deliberate staging of some items. There are silos of old CDs that are glittering vertical rainbow prisms. There are rake tines lashed onto car fenders with maybe a half-naked doll positioned in between. Certain sections seem to have a story to tell. A toilet bowl full of battered rubber ducks is both amusing and eerie.
I spent about an hour exploring the structure before I introduced myself. The interview was short and sweet and sour. His story was interesting but his mood shifted several times during our conversation. He shut me down after about ten minutes. Hannemann says he is often misquoted by the press, so here is the full Q&A of the interview, unedited, including my sometimes bumbling questions. It is short, but somehow it made me understand the Cathedral of Junk and its creator’s motivations a lot better.
Q: Your mom coined it the Cathedral of Junk?
Vince Hannemann: Mm-hmm.
Q: What did you call it before that?
Hannemann: Yard Space 11.
Q: And what’s your mom’s name?
Hannemann: Linda.
Q: Linda. Linda called it that. Do you have a personal definition of the word junk? When I say junk, what does it mean?
Hannemann: Well, junk is not trash, you know? Junk is something that could be reused, you know? Some—junk is something that’s broken, but it does not—it’s not valueless. So, you know, junk, you keep around. Trash, you get rid of.
Q: When you originally started—did you go out and claim stuff for Yard Space 11? Or was it stuff that was already around and you looked at it and thought, I can do something . . .
Hannemann: No, there wasn’t anything here. I started by collecting. But after a little while, people started donating stuff.
Q: And do—is there one material you like to work with, where you find really it sort of speaks to you, versus another kind of material?
Hannemann: Old stuff.
Q: Yeah. I like the glass. I think the way the glass catches the light . . .
Hannemann: Sure, if it’s shiny, I like it. It’s not much more complicated than that. Everybody likes shiny stuff, right? Well, maybe not. I don’t know. I won’t speak for everybody. I said everybody liked money the other day and somebody wanted to argue with me. It was like, well, whatever.
Q: Well, it’ll never be unpopular, let’s put it that way.
Hannemann: Whatever. That’s not true. There’s always haters. Doesn’t matter what.
Q: This is true. You had a couple of music videos that were shot in here. Do you remember what bands?
Hannemann: Oh, God, no. I don’t care.
Q: When someone approaches you about shooting in here, do you have any sort of rules?
Hannemann: Previously, I’ve been yes, yes, yes, yes, yes about everything. And now, I’m no, no, no, no, no.
Q: It just has changed? What’s changed?
Hannemann: None of your business.
Q: OK, that’s a fair answer. What kind of tools do you need? And what kind of tools do you use?
[Hannemann holds up his hands]
Q: Just your hands?
Hannemann: Just hands. And—yep. . . . So, let me ask you, what are you doing?
Q: What I am doing is, I’m writing a book about junk, because I’m really interested in America’s relationship with it right now. There are people like you who gave a beautiful definition. And there are people who just want it out. They want a completely clean home. There are people who can’t part with it, who have an emotional attachment to it.
Hannemann: I know. I watch that show, the Hoarders? I just got the frickin’ cable TV, and it’s like, disgusting. It’s like, it’s worse than a drug. It’s horrible. But yeah, like, Hoarders, Buried Alive, and shit? I watch that stuff and I’m like, Wow, what is it about those people and me that are just like, the same thing? And you know what it is? It’s that emotional attachment to that shit.
But I’m not a hoarder.
Q: No, you’re not.
Hannemann: But I still have an emotional attachment to this shit.
Q: But you’ve expressed it in a sort of a . . .
Hannemann: Ah, whatever.
Q: An interesting way.
Hannemann: So, what? That doesn’t matter.
Q: And I think it’s sort of interesting that there’s a business—there’s a whole business of this, to come out of junk—of junk removal, of junk . . .
Hannemann: Well, yeah, because America’s—like, even with economic crisis and all this crap, whatever, you know, like, storage containers are—that’s like, a growth industry. Like, people are—they’re going to like, their house is going to be foreclosed on, right? Whatever. And they’re not going to realize that they’ve been like too huge of a fucking lifestyle and everything’s cost too much, so they’re just going to try to hold onto that crap and put it in a goddamn storage container. You know?
And somehow, they’re going to be able to go back to this unrealistic, bullshit lifestyle and spend like, I don’t know how much money just to—yeah, $3,000 to save $200 worth of crap.
Q: And also, then, there’s the stores that just make stuff to keep your stuff in. It’s the great George Carlin routine about your house is the place to put your stuff, and like, make . . .
Hannemann: Right. Well, America’s got the great—best stuff in the world. And now, here we are being lied to. Here’s the deal. They’re like, “Oh, my god, this is the seventh billion person born on the planet. The planet can’t handle it. It’s China’s fault. Oh, my god, those overpopulating people.” All this crap. There’s not enough to go around. How’s the planet going to handle seven billion people? And yet, we’re using ten times as much crap as seven billion people need and throwing it away.
So, you’re telling me there’s not enough shit to go around for everybody? Bullshit. That’s bullshit.
Q: How did word spread about . . .
Hannemann: I don’t know. Word of mouth. How does that work?
Q: Yeah? Did you just—the—were—you’re building it and people stopped by to check it out? Who were the first people to sort of realize what was going on? Friends?
Hannemann: Oh, man, it just—yeah. You know, word of mouth. I don’t know how to—you know, one person talks to another. Then, of course, I started this before the age of the Internet. But once the Int
ernet hit, it’s all over. You know, I don’t have a website. Right? I don’t know how you heard about me. It wasn’t from me.
Q: Nope.
Hannemann: It was from somebody else.
Q: Yep.
Hannemann: And now, this is the kind of shit that I have to do all day. I don’t like it.
Q: Oh. OK, well, I appreciate you taking . . .
Hannemann: Well, as a matter of fact, I’m going to swear it off. I’m just about done doing this kind of stuff. I really, really hate it.
Q: I appreciate it. Oh, something that I read that was interesting that I hope it’s true. You mentioned, people have some type of emotional reactions.
Hannemann: Oh, yeah. Man, you know, they won’t believe me about this, but it’s true.
Q: Oh, I would.
Hannemann: I had this lady come over the other day, and she sees a red cardinal out here. “Oh, my god,” she’s like, “Oh!” Bird signs, you know? “Oh, it’s a red cardinal, and ohh!” All this crap. She starts crying and I was like, OK, it’s OK, it’s OK. It’s just a red cardinal. Blah, blah, blah. And she—and we start talking about numbers, and this, that, and the other thing. And I’m—I kind of like whatever. You know, a lot of people do. I point to that, that the numbers on the house were 4422. Ahh! Ahh! Oh, my god. Big hugs, slobbery kisses and shit. It’s like, Oh, my god.
Q: Wow.
Hannemann: Oh, let me tell you one other freaky thing. It’s 4422, but the—all the different lots have different numbers, whatever, you know, lot 1, 2, 3, 4, whatever? This is lot number 13. Ahh! Unlucky number. Ahh! Red cardinal!
I’m sorry. I hate to make fun—
Q: Oh, no. It’s just sort of—it’s sort of interesting. It’s sort of interesting. What I—my impression of it is, it’s a sort of—it’s a—it speaks to possibility. What you can do, it’s possible. Look at this. Somebody else thinks it’s junk or crap. You’ve made it into something new. It’s possible to be something else. It can be turned into something else. I find it very hopeful. I think it’s cool.
Hannemann: I’m glad you think that.
Q: I really do. I’m not just giving you bullshit. I really—I didn’t know what to expect.
Hannemann: Oh, no. I’ve heard that. It’s nice. It’s a nice thing to hear.
Q: Can I ask, are there certain—I see, you know, like, everybody’s going to see what they want to see. I see moments of humor in there. You know, like, dedicated by the women the irons on top of it, like, the irony. Like . . .
Hannemann: Well, as long as that’s what you see, but that’s not where it comes from. [His voice had a distinct edge to it.]
Q: OK. I didn’t realize. I looked at that and there was something else I saw, and I thought—Oh, and the throne, how there’s a phone next to it, like the Batphone. There’s an old, beat-up phone. And that made me laugh. I don’t know if that was intentional or not.
Hannemann: I know. I know. What you see is like, you know, peacefulness and humor and whatever and all that shit, it comes—it all comes from exactly the opposite.
Q: Oh, you’ll have to explain that to me. I don’t understand that.
Hannemann: It comes from a deep well of dissatisfaction, longing . . . you know, all negative emotions. It all comes from negative crap.
Q: Internal . . .
Hannemann: Internally, right. So—and that’s a—it’s a way of working out negative crap, OK? [His voice is raised. He is clearly agitated.]
Q: Yeah.
Hannemann: So, you know, like, Adolf Hitler wanted to be a painter, right? And he was trying to work out that negative crap. Maybe he might have been able to work it out if somebody was like, “Gee, I really like your pictures.” And maybe World War II could have been prevented if somebody just said, “Dude, you need to be an artist.”
Q: So, after you work on the cathedral . . .
Hannemann: So, I think what happened is that somebody told him, “Dude, you suck as an artist. You need to find another way to make a living. You are pathetic.” And he was like, “Fuck you all! I’m going to kill every last one of you fucking Jew bastard art motherfuckers. Do you hear the deep well of hate and dissatisfaction that’s inside of me?”
Q: Uh-huh.
Hannemann: That’s where that comes from. So, if you want to think it’s funny or this, that, and the other thing, go ahead. It’s peaceful and crap? Go ahead. And that’s what you get from it? Go ahead. But I’m telling you, that’s not where it comes from.
Q: Do you feel better . . .
Hannemann: No! That’s it. Over.
Q: OK. Thank you.
End of recording.
II
WHO HAS IT?
AND WHY?
4
FROM AUSTIN TO AKRON
JUNK BUSTERS USA AND TRASH DADDY
* * *
Junk Busters USA: Austin, Texas
Agnes. Irene. Bertha. These three ladies are large, in good shape, and looking for some action. Agnes is the youngest and a fine choice to be a guide for a day of junk removal, Austin style. She’s revved up and ready to roll by 7:00 AM with two handsome young men, Scott and James, along for the ride.
Agnes is a cab-over style truck that can hold eighteen cubic yards of whatever can fit in her. “This is the least stinky cab,” according to nineteen-year-old Scott, who will be managing the schedule. Agnes is part of the Junk Busters USA fleet. The name of the company is an homage to the classic 1984 movie Ghostbusters. While the Junk Busters can’t get rid of poltergeists, they will take just about anything else. The trucks are painted the same acid green as the pesky apparition Slimer, who was a breakout star in the film. The company logo features the word JUNK smack in the middle of a red circle with a backslash, much like Ghostbusters movie poster, and “Who ya gonna call?” is written on the side of each truck, a reference to the film’s theme song. One very happy and creative Junk Busters customer took to Yelp to review the company by writing new lyrics:
When it’s time to give
Your couch the heave-ho,
Who ya gonna call?
Junk Busters!
When it’s time for your
Old loveseat to go,
Who ya gonna call?
Junk Busters!
Don’t wanna hoard my junk
Don’t wanna hoard my junk
JUNK BUSTERS!
The Junk Busters team has a very clear system. They work in pairs; one guy drives the truck and the other navigates, checks the schedule, and makes contact with the client. The goal is supreme customer service while maximizing time. James, a student at Austin Community College, puts the up in upbeat. He calls each client, happily confirms the job, and lets the customer know the out time is about thirty minutes.
Scott and James are all business as they go through their checklist of things they will need for the day: a dolly, tool kit, clipboard, buckets, and Super Big Gulps containing forty-four ounces of caffeinated, sugary fizzy water. They won’t really stop until the end of the day. The only breaks they take are to fill up for gas, hit the bathroom, or pick up lunch from a truck stop. My stomach learned the hard way not to trust a nineteen-year-old dude who tells you that a particular gas station has the “best taquitos.” The stops are brief. It takes them about fifteen minutes to refill their sodas, grab a smoke or a vape, and stick something fried in their mouths. These guys never stop moving.
“Maybe we will get some good donate-ables today.” James is optimistic about the first job of the day. They are headed to a repeat customer. Junk Busters has been to this particular house five times already, helping a young family clean out before a move. “We had a whole truck of donate-ables time. Her husband just told us to get rid of it.” Donating is not as easy as it sounds. Junk removal folks repeatedly lament about how picky some of the name brand donation centers have become. The Junk Busters will often go to churches and other smaller entities first because they are more willing to accept certain items. James keeps a list on his clipboard.
&nbs
p; In professional junk removal there are a few different categories: recyclables, things to donate, scrap metal, and the truly worthless dreck that can’t be used anymore. That stuff usually goes to the landfill. It is what James calls “actual junk.” No one likes to take stuff to the landfill, especially in eco-aware towns like Austin. It is the least desirable option, both environmentally and economically. The more a removal company can offload via recycling or donation, the lighter the truck will be when it gets to the landfill, where trucks are charged by the weight of the load. The lighter the load, the more profit for the company. The reason this particular multi-visit job has been a bonanza for donations is because the home is located in the second-wealthiest zip code in the Austin area, just west of downtown. It is a five-bedroom, six-bath, new construction with a pool and a 912-square-foot garage. The family who lives there is moving to a slightly larger house in the same picture-perfect neighborhood. The pretty young mom is using the move as a chance to rid herself of things she says her not-so-small-anymore children have acquired. At this point she greets the Junk Busters like old friends. They already know the layout of the now-almost-empty house. She points and they pick up a pile. Point and pick up. Point and pick up. Bags of clothes. Legos. Many Legos. Many, many Legos.
As the guys remove the boxes and bags from the home, a pile is growing on the lawn. When the igloo-shaped doghouse is placed on the mound, James starts to look worried. The original quote was for about a quarter of a truck and this pile was moving well past that point. The pricing strategy is almost the same for all companies. The client pays by how much of the truck is filled: a quarter of a truck costs X, a half a truck costs Y, and a full truck costs Z.
The refrain of “Oh, and one more” is heard again and again as this woman keeps finding things she doesn’t want to schlep into the new home. It is a common occurrence. Most people underestimate their loads. She keeps bringing out items. Hangers. Cushions. A microwave. And then there’s the upright piano; it isn’t a piece of junk by anyone’s standards, yet it will not be making the trip to the new house.
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