So much stuff, so little space.
That’s the reality o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave. The accumulation of stuff–junk that might not get a second look at a garage sale or gain any visual notoriety at the local landfill–is creating a mark of economic distinction in America.
We may no longer be the top dogs in the production of steel, cars, televisions and other manufactured goods, and we may be losing our edge in science and technology. But the explosion in the number of self-storage facilities clearly suggests a resurgent America, indeed a nation of stuff.
There are at least 55,000 self-storage facilities scattered across the nation, according to the Self Storage Association, double the number of a decade ago. Veterans in the business who have reaped the benefits of this booming economy of accumulation say that figure is almost certainly low. The tally of large, aluminum-sided garages, abandoned warehouses and other boxy buildings converted to self-storage units built to hold items that no longer fit at home could approach 100,000, they say.
The economics of stuff is thriving in Rock County, Wis., where, according to the Self Storage Association, there are at least 15 square feet of storage space available for every man, woman and child in the county. (The national average is 6.9 feet per capita.) Nearly all of it is filled. A small but colorful portion of it belongs to 75-year-old Jim Johnson, a retired roofer and committed, unapologetic pack rat who lives in Beloit.
Six days a week Johnson visits his 12-by-48-foot storage space, a gloriously cluttered museum of desks (four of them), tools, fishing gear, pails of roofing nails, broken radios, a rusty radiator and Heineken signs. (And those are just the highlights.) He starts his day with a little prayer and then he settles back into an old swivel desk chair, drawing comfort from his surroundings.
“I can’t throw this stuff away,” Johnson says affectionately. “I might need it sometime.”
Johnson has rented this metal refuge on a concrete slab for at least a decade. Married for 53 years, Johnson said his wife, Novell, is delighted to not have to look at all his stuff.
“She’s been over here three times in 10 years, and she’s never gotten out of the car,” Johnson said.
New homes are 40 percent bigger than they were three decades ago, says the National Association of Home Builders. Still, the accumulation of stuff is outpacing the square footage to hold it all.
“The dirty little secret in this business is if Americans ever stop keeping their junk, we’re in big trouble,” said Cris Burnam, president of Columbia, Mo.-based StorageMart Partners, which operates 60 storage facilities in 12 states, including Illinois.
“We have folks who pay thousands of dollars in storage fees for stuff that you literally wouldn’t get a hundred dollars for in a garage sale, but it’s their stuff and it has special meaning to them,” Burnam said.
Economists regularly monitor production and consumption, imports and exports, and just about any measure that reflects the behavior and overall well-being of consumers. But the economics of old stuff that has accumulated over the years is not on the radar screen. The growth in the self-storage industry mirrors a changing America, influenced by birthrates, divorce, lifestyle, housing prices and — most important — affluence.
“Thirty or 40 years ago people had more kids and less stuff. Now they have fewer kids and more stuff,” said Robert Hartwig, chief economist at the Insurance Information Institute. “Part of this is simply affluence in America. Each and every family member has more possessions now.”
Even tiny towns have them
Take a look around. Little towns that don’t have a grocery store or a pharmacy may well have at least one self-storage facility. Consider Footville, Wis., population 832. The town northwest of Beloit lost its variety store in the past year. It has two self-storage facilities.
“People have too much money, and they buy too many things,” said Kay Demrow, archivist of the Luther Valley Historical Society in Footville.
Wisconsin has tendencies toward pack rat-ism, according to the Self Storage Association. The state ranks 18th in population, 5.4 million, and 12th in the number of storage facilities, with 1,194. No state in the Midwest has more storage space per capita — 9 square feet — than Wisconsin.
Part of that can be explained by the accumulation of boats and snowmobiles stored during the off-season. But economic forces at work here also apply nationwide, storage company owners say. People are turning former storage space, such as basements, into home entertainment centers. Divorce and the disruption that it causes with living arrangements often result in people turning to self-storage. Children inherit the furniture and other holdings of their parents. People adding onto their homes require space to store furniture. And local zoning ordinances often prohibit sheds and other such storage space.
“Over the past 25 years there has been a huge demand for space of every kind,” said Austan Goolsbee, a professor of economics at the University of Chicago Graduate School of Business. “People have a lot more stuff, we’ve gotten richer and we need more space. Given the price of land and the cost of adding on, [self-storage] is a cheaper way to do it.”
The online sales phenomenon eBay also has played a role. About three years ago, Dan Bliss bought the famed first Hollywood sign that was stretched across a mountain overlooking the entertainment capital. He broke the 45-foot by 300-foot sign into 10-foot sections, put it in storage and sold chunks of it on eBay. Bliss said he is about to announce he has sold the entire sign for six figures.
“Wouldn’t you buy it if you had the opportunity?” Bliss asked.
Storage operators say the Hollywood sign is a rare interesting example of what lies behind the locked door.
“It’s just junk,” said Wayne Endthoff, who with his wife, Sharon, operates four facilities with about 240 units in Beloit and nearby Orfordville and Footville.
“It’s what people put in their garage before they take it to the dump,” Sharon Endthoff said.
Self-storage trysts?
Every storage operator has tales of the unusual renter–the guy who tried to live in the unit he rented, and another who used it for trysts.
“It was cheaper than a motel,” Wayne Endthoff said, noting that he quickly evicted the renter.
Surveys conducted by the Self Storage Association paint an inside-the-garage-door portrait of the mundane — furniture, housewares, pictures and paintings and old clothes–that are stacked in units across the country.
“People say they only want to rent for a few months, but they stay a year to 18 months, or more,” said Blair Nagel, chief executive of Metro Storage LLC in Lake Bluff, Ill.
“We call them pack rats and procrastinators. It’s like the [song] `Hotel California’–you can check out but you never leave,” Nagel said.
Institutional investors have recognized the value–and the future–of stuff. Five years ago the stock of Public Storage Inc. was trading at about $20 a share. Last week it topped $86 a share on the New York Stock Exchange. No small thanks go to people like Jim Johnson, who just can’t say goodbye to the stuff of a lifetime.
“I know where everything is here,” he said while showing a visitor a large iron hoist. “This is the accumulation of everything I’ve been.”
With three fishing tackle boxes at his feet–one for muskies, one for catfish and one for his trips over to Lake Michigan–Johnson reflects fondly on the accomplishments of his six children.
“You know, when I die the kids will come in here and take the good fishing stuff and put the rest of this in a dumpster and flip it. But,” he said with a small smile, “not as long as I’m here.”
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What’s inside Jim Johnson’s storage unit?
12 fishing poles
14 fishing reels
3 large plastic pails of roofing nails
8 extension ladders
car radiator
snow sled
3 Heineken signs
6 car radios
3 fishing boxes
2 file cabinets
4 desks
refrigerator
Shop-Vac
fishing net
iron hoist
large metal pail
plastic cooler
portable radio/TV
U.S. Army patrol hat
3 orange highway cones
boombox
2 fans
jumper cables
carpet cleaner
table saw
stack of maintenance manuals
old phone books
toolboxes
power and hand tools
socket wrench set
old license plates (“ROOFER”)
telephone
roofing material
extension cords
vise
generator
metal sheeting
socket wrench box
sheet of egg carton foam
dustpan
garden hose
propane tank
insulation
sweat pants and other clothes
coffee tins
gloves
dust mask
piping
wood
wall calendar
plastic water jug
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tmjones@tribune.com
