Victorian Shotguns and Dogs Photo Quiz

[Phil Yearout]

This is totally off topic but those leggings reminded me. The scourge of the small town where I grew up - and a treasure trove for us kids - was Gene Renner’s junk yard which sat smack dab in the middle of Main Street. Gene was the typical grizzled old recluse whose house on the outskirts had just about as much junk as his business. How or why the junk yard came to be where it was I never knew. Gene sat it the ramshackle building that served as the office and we would gather up scrap metal wherever we could find it and sell it to him; he’d weigh it up on his old balance scale and pay us in cash.

He allowed us to wander the yard at will and when we found a treasure - a particularly cool auto emblem for example, or a part for some project we had in the works - he’d scratch his whiskered chin, come up with a price off the top of his head, and off we’d go.

The real allure though was the back room which was filled with all kinds of army surplus stuff; leggings similar to the ones in that photo, shelter halves that buttoned together to form a simple tent, all manner of packs and bags, gas masks, and on and on. Our war games were better equipped than a lot of national guard units !

The town finally succeeded in getting rid of Gene’s yard some time after I left; there’s a bank sitting there now. Kids are different now and probably don’t care, but they don’t have Renners to prowl around in and I think that’s sad.

[Garth Gustafson]

Originally Posted by Phil Yearout

This is totally off topic but those leggings reminded me. The scourge of the small town where I grew up - and a treasure trove for us kids - was Gene Renner’s junk yard which sat smack dab in the middle of Main Street. Gene was the typical grizzled old recluse whose house on the outskirts had just about as much junk as his business. How or why the junk yard came to be where it was I never knew. Gene sat it the ramshackle building that served as the office and we would gather up scrap metal wherever we could find it and sell it to him; he’d weigh it up on his old balance scale and pay us in cash.

He allowed us to wander the yard at will and when we found a treasure - a particularly cool auto emblem for example, or a part for some project we had in the works - he’d scratch his whiskered chin, come up with a price off the top of his head, and off we’d go.

The real allure though was the back room which was filled with all kinds of army surplus stuff; leggings similar to the ones in that photo, shelter halves that buttoned together to form a simple tent, all manner of packs and bags, gas masks, and on and on. Our war games were better equipped than a lot of national guard units !

The town finally succeeded in getting rid of Gene’s yard some time after I left; there’s a bank sitting there now. Kids are different now and probably don’t care, but they don’t have Renners to prowl around in and I think that’s sad.

Phil, for a good laugh you should read “Grogan’s War Surplus” by Patrick McManus. Those places were like candy stores for us kids.

[Dean Romig]

Originally Posted by Phil Yearout

The real allure though was the back room which was filled with all kinds of army surplus stuff; leggings similar to the ones in that photo, shelter halves that buttoned together to form a simple tent, all manner of packs and bags, gas masks, and on and on. Our war games were better equipped than a lot of national guard units !

The town finally succeeded in getting rid of Gene’s yard some time after I left; there’s a bank sitting there now. Kids are different now and probably don’t care, but they don’t have Renners to prowl around in and I think that’s sad.

We had a similar WWII surplus place in Woburn, the next town over, named Slotnick's. We got all kinds of stuff there and I got a infantryman's waist jacket that fit me perfectly. I loved that jacket and wore it all the time, even with the frayed elbows and holes... which I pretended were bullet holes.





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[ArtS]

I searched through our local one and settled on a pair of nuclear bomb protection goggles, with circular adjustable polarizers. I looked like one of the 1950's soldiers standing in a group in Nevada staring at a mushroom cloud. Even at that time I remember questioning why they needed to be adjustable. If you need them, you REALLY need them.