'Dump queen' finds treasure where others put their trash
(Published Sunday, July 29, 2007 12:33:10 AM CST)
A d v e r t i s e m e n t
By Marcia Nelesen Gazette Staff
It's a beautiful day at the dump.
The sun is shining.
The breeze is gusty enough to nudge a hearty smell from one particularly odorous Dumpster in the other direction.
Zelda Reighard, self-described dump queen, is in her element.
Zelda has a rule: If she takes something to the dump, she takes something from it. She'll either figure a way to reuse it herself, give it to a friend or take it to Goodwill.
It fits her personal goal of recycling to save the earth's resources.
Zelda's artistic eye doesn't see the discarded lamp or damaged headboard. She sees an elegant candelabra or a decorative shelf.
"People think it's junk just because it's broken," she says.
In the past, Zelda has scored a wonderful, green-painted, many-paned window, for instance. She plans to remove the glass and use it as photo collage.
Once, Zelda found five discarded doors at the dump. Two now serve as menu boards at the Pleasant Street Coffee House in Beloit.
Zelda, who restores homes and owns Z Designs, fashioned a headboard and two nightstands from the remaining three.
But often you don't need an artistic eye at the dump. Many items are in perfectly good condition.
Zelda once found an iron garden bench and a garden pot-the wire trellis and vine still in it. They needed no work.
"It was amazing," she said.
Another time, she found a leather couch that matched her friend's decor. Her friend now has it in her living room. A wonderful bookcase made out of an old book crate is in her son's bedroom.
Zelda stores some of the things in her basement until she figures ways to give them second lives. She also has a storage shed.
Zelda doesn't only get items from the dump. She'll pull them off the curb as they wait for the garbage truck or buys them cheap at garage sales. People give her stuff, too.
But on a recent July day, we were at the dump.
(When Zelda takes something to the dump, you KNOW it is hopeless).
Certain days are better than others.
And this one is shaping up to be a good day for Dumpster diving.
The Dumpsters are set along recessed retaining walls at the landfill at 525 Black Bridge Road.
Immediately, we see decorative wire garden fencing resting along a Dumpster-never used and in its original packaging. I grab this for myself and set it aside.
"Look at that," Zelda says, hauling a porch railing from the Dumpster. Paint or sand it, drill some holes, get some S hooks, a little chain and hang it from the ceiling. Voila! You've got yourself a plate rack.
Zelda spots aluminum awnings that will fit nicely over the door and window of a home she is restoring.
She uses an iron hook to fish them out. The handy Dumpster tool is something she believes a farmer once used to do his haying. She found it at the dump.
Up drives a man in a pickup with a dresser-still perfectly serviceable.
Zelda intercepts the piece before it finds its way onto the garbage heap.
After discussing whether the item will fit in her small car, the man offers to drop it off at her home.
Zelda will spiff it up with paint and maybe wallpaper and put on new handles.
"What have you got?" she asks. "A perfect dresser for a little girl."
From another Dumpster, Zelda hooks a large rug-luckily, it's lying on top of the garbage.
"What's wrong with this rug?" she asks, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Absolutely nothing. Why throw this in the dump?
"It doesn't even smell. I'm giving it to Goodwill."
A cast-iron yellow sink catches our eye. Zelda perches on the side of the Dumpster, but it's too heavy for her hook.
A man who is making his own deposit gamely jumps into the Dumpster to help.
Once, the man said, he found some really nice, almost brand-new shovels.
The number of perfectly good items proved astounding to this first-time dump-goer.
Zelda scoops up a garden pot. Not her taste, but she'll take it to Goodwill. The tag on the bottom reads $8.95.
The Janesville Gazette photographer, meanwhile, claims a lawn chair, slightly faded by the sun.
By this time, Zelda has just about filled her car.
"I'm not going to get much more in this car unless I find something small," she says.
I go to retrieve my wire fencing.
But someone in a pickup has just driven off with it!
I get in my car and follow Zelda, the awning bouncing in the back of her open trunk. I have offered to take the cast iron sink in mine.
We swing into Zelda's driveway. The dresser is sitting on her curb.
