Lorraine Moskal plugs in one of the giant Christmas figurines on the counter of her store. The two-foot-tall caroler, towering over the ceramic animals and music boxes that crowd around his feet, swings into action as “Greensleeves” begins to chime from deep within his bowels. His head moves a little to one side and pauses, then a metallic grinding begins to compete with the music. Lorraine quickly switches him off and starts another, a maniacally grinning elf. “These here musicals are one of our most popular items,” Lorraine says. “They’re all electrical.” The elf chimes a happy tune, and the stack of Christmas presents he’s holding sways precariously.
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In the shade of massive oak trees along Archer Avenue in Willow Springs, with the Palos Forest Preserves and several vast cemeteries for neighbors, stands Tarnow’s Grove Hall of 1,000 Bargains, a white warehouse in a wooded glen. The building’s dormitorylike facade gives few clues of the business being carried on inside, where big-ticket collector’s items like $400 china music boxes rub shoulders with foot-long cigars and school supplies. An encyclopedia struggles to maintain its dignity next to The Complete Inside Story of ZZ Top. Endless shelves divide the cavernous main room into a maze of Baby Gymnasiums, red-white-and-blue Scrubba scouring pads, and mysterious items like “The Chicken Planter.” Precious Moments abound. In a clearing in the room’s center a stern, four-foot-tall nutcracker stands guard. “You never know what you’re gonna find here,” says Lorraine. “I’m out every day looking, at trade shows and auctions. Every day we bring in something new. We have a lot of Hummel.”
“The women would shop and the men would drink,” Bee explains. This smaller room is also crammed with merchandise. A long piece of pegboard rests on and partly obscures a well-worn mahogany bar rail. “There’s still a bar under there,” Bee says. “This was a tavern and that was a dance hall and a skating rink. I skated there. They had cockfights, and they had everything in there.”
“When we came here we used to have a hitching rail out there,” she says. “‘Cause the horse trail goes right behind our property, you know? They would tie their horses up here and come in the tavern and drink.” Bruno’s tavern withstood the approaching tide until 1986, when Lorraine’s stock took over the room for good.
