The real conservatives.

Everybody on Earth is guilty of fouling the environment to some extent -- to be alive, after all, is to be a polluter -- but some of us are much worse offenders than others. And what's true for individuals is true for countries. The African nation of Togo, for instance, has 3,500 cars, one for every 200 people. The U.S. has 137 million cars, 35 percent of the world's total, or one for every two residents, including people too young to drive.

We here in the U.S. lead the world in fossil fuel pollution, acid rain generation, production of industrial waste and energy consumption. The U.S. creates 19 percent of the world's garbage -- compared to 4.4 percent for Japan, 1.1 percent for Australia, and 2.9 percent for West Germany. The U.S. is among the elite 20 percent of the world's population that takes in 82.7 percent of global income. The fortunate few also consume 10 times as much energy and one-and-a-half times more food than people in the developing world.

There were, at last count, over 250 million Americans, and we've created the biggest throwaway culture the world has ever known, with close to 200 million tons of municipal solid waste generated every year -- three-and-a-half pounds per person, per day. An incredible 30 percent of the garbage rapidly filling up our 5,800 landfills is packaging. We're chucking out 10 to 20 billion disposable diapers, two billion razors, 1.7 billion pens and 45 billion pounds of plastic every year. Indeed, our plastic waste disposal problem has gotten so serious that we're now exporting 200 million pounds of it every year -- mostly to Asia, where it merely gets landfilled there instead of here.

If there's a bright spot in all this gloom, it's that we still retain a solid -- though evolving -- "reuse" industry. David Goldebeck, in his new book, Choose to Reuse (Ceres Press), describes reuse as "making a worn-out product new again, as in retreading a tire." There's also what he calls secondary reuse, in which "the tire is used for something else, like helping to form an artificial reef, or ground up and used in surfacing roads."

Unfortunately, the traditional reuse business is being put on life support just as environmentalists are recognizing its significance. It's unlikely that Greenpeace is going to start a campaign to save the jobs of cobblers and Maytag repairmen, but environmental groups are beginning to encourage the growth of small and innovative reuse industries. One such, The Tutwiler Quilting Project, was launched in the Mississippi Delta in 1988 as a way for women to make money for themselves and their families. Using largely donated textile scraps, about 40 local quilters earn their livelihood sewing blankets, wall hangings, handbags, potholders, table runners and placemats. They're making money and conserving resources at the same time.

And the reuse message is getting Through to people. According to Michael Lewis, a senior research engineer at the Institute for Local Self Reliance in Washington, "A new type of reuse organization is emerging to take the place of traditional fix-it shops. We had reuse in the past and now we're getting back to it." Lewis cites extensive returnable bottle programs, as well as nonprofit groups around the country that acquire unwanted office goods or appliances and pass them on to low-income organizations. The Institute is preparing a book on just this kind of reuse (see sidebar).

Reusers don't necessarily identify themselves that way. Joe of Joe's Fix-It Shop often just does what he does, taking quiet pride in returning a worn or broken widget to service. Their crafts vary widely, but they share a commitment to reducing the waste stream and smokestack pollution, and saving on landfill space and raw materials. If these people constitute a movement, it's a threatened one. Many of those E interviewed say their work is increasingly embattled by cheap imported goods -- which make fixing something broken more expensive than buying it new -- and disposable designs that don't even allow some new products to be taken apart, let alone repaired.

Back Into Service

"It's becoming a throwaway world,"says Dan McMillion, who runs Dan's Volvo Service in Tampa, Florida. "I see big billboards advertising contact lenses that you use for just a day or two and then throw away." McMillion's parents raised him better. He likes to take broken-down Volvos and make them ready for service again. "I've probably done ground-up restorations on 20 or 30 cars," he says. "If we restore them, it keeps them out of the ground for a while." The problem, McMillion says, is that the sturdy 122S and 544 Volvos he favors "aren't worth tremendous amounts restored. You end up with more time into it than the car is worth."

In much the same way, Tom Migliaccio of Beacon Electronics in Westport, Connecticut, admits that the ancient Philco and RCA tube radios he fixes amid the nostalgic clutter of his repair shop are a labor of love. "I don't make any money on fixing them," he says. "But I like the idea that they'll be around after I am."

Migliaccio has been fixing radios and TVs in Westport since he got out of the Navy in 1946. "TV was a novelty then. They said it would last a few years and then fade. But look what it's become. People come in here, see the old stuff from the 20s, 30s and 40s and it brings back their childhood," he says. Finding parts for old electronic equipment takes some ingenuity. Migliaccio says his replacement tubes come from Russia and China. He also sells such obsolete items as phonograph needles and rooftop TV antennas.

Migliaccio says today's electronics are too complicated for the storefront fix-it man. "I used to have 18 competitors in the phone book, but now there are very few. The new stuff, it's like todays cars -- you need computers to fix them. In our day, we'd take a screwdriver and bailing wire and fix our cars ourselves."

Morris Campbell is another take-charge guy who opened his store -- Campbell's Clock Shop in Grand Rapids, Michigan -- right after World War II. "I've been fixing clocks for 50 years," he says. As he talks, Campbell is surrounded by the gentle revolution of 30 or 40 glass-domed anniversary clocks, most of them German-made. He estimates he is only one of 30 or 40 people in the country who know how to fix this popular postwar accessory.

"It's becoming a lost art, it really is," Campbell says. "Most shops just clean 'em up, put in a little oil and hope for the best. I tried to get my son interested in the business, but he said there wasn't enough money in it and got involved with computers instead." Modern digital clocks, says Campbell, "are really junk," and with their electronic circuitry beyond the country clockmaker's art. Campbell, who's 79, is going to retire and let other people worry about the future of clock repair.

I hate to see repair places go by the wayside, because they serve a valid purpose," says Allen Blakey, a spokesman for the Environmental Industry Association in Washington who shakes his head at Campbell's story. "But sometimes the economics of the times are stronger than our sense of what we ought to be doing."

Joseph Ancona is another victim of "the economics of the times," but he still needs to feed his family. Ancona runs Economy Shoe Repair in Norwalk, Connecticut, a business his father started in 1929. Americans don't get their shoes fixed anymore, he says, they just replace them. "That's my problem," he said. "They make these injection-molded shoes in China or wherever and because of the molding they can't be repaired. Even if they could be fixed, it would cost more than a new pair. Now we sell workboots, make keys, anything to get a day's pay. The business is just not as good as it used to be -- in the last two years we've seen a big drop." Ancona cites a stark example. The new (and fixable) Chinese-made workboots he sells are $35. The cost of resoling those same boots? $35.

Ancona may be gloomy about his prospects, but he's still proud of the work he does. "What we do saves on landfill space," he says. "When you rebuild a shoe, only a very little bit of material is thrown away. And the shoe is often better than it was new."

Invisible Repairs

Nancy Molleur, who runs AA Reweaving in Albuquerque, New Mexico, is a practitioner of an even more endangered craft. Clothes reweaving, she says, "is a declining skill." Molleur learned her art from 75-year-old Nina Davis, who started the company in 1954.

"It's a very old craft that was used originally during the industrial age to repair fabrics that had flaws in them," Molleur says. "Now we use it mainly to repair garments that have holes in them, or are fraying. Other people reweave Navajo rugs out here. It's a difficult and somewhat secretive skill, and quite wonderful. People are amazed when they see what I can do. "Molleur's clients bring in $2,500 suits that ripped the first time out, or priceless heirlooms. But her problem is similar to other fix-its: New products are more difficult to work on. "With polyester, for instance, the threads are not very tangible," Molleur says. "The clothes tend to fray rather than unravel, and it's hard to reweave them back into a garment." Blends of synthetics and natural fibers are better but, with mass-produced imported clothes getting cheaper and cheaper, reweaving appears to have a cloudy future.

If people aren't fixing damaged clothing anymore, the Asian factories are working overtime to keep up with increased demand -- and creating a much bigger waste problem. Linda Shotwell, communications director of the Washington-based National Recycling Coalition, says that source reduction and reuse "are very important, because they reduce the need to have recycling and waste management in the first place."

Furniture reupholstering, meanwhile, remains a healthy profession, as many Americans still recover their old couches and sectionals. Ben Saiz of Ben's Upholstery ("One Call and You're Covered"), also in Albuquerque, has been on the recovery scene since 1958. "I think it's a form of recycling," he says. "I love working with solid pieces of furniture, and it's still cheaper to reupholster than to buy new." Again, though, cheap imports are clogging the market. "There's too much junk out there -- from halfway around the world. That's what's polluting our planet." Saiz plans to fight back with his own line of sofas and chairs. "You'll get a quality oak or pine upholstered sofa for $800 to $1,000 -- that's a good deal, isn't it?" he asks

Donnis Samples, whose voice has the lilting music of the Appalachian Mountains, is getting ready to close the doors at the AAA Appliance Service Company in Chattanooga,. Tennessee for the last time. She and her husband have been fixing washers, dryers and refrigerators for decades, but now they'd rather go fishing. "A lot of people will just go out and buy a new appliance when it breaks down now," Samples says. "We always tell them their unit can be fixed unless there's a bad compressor or something like that. That kind of work can cost $300 or $400 and you might as well buy new."

Jerry Powell, editor of North America's Recycling Journal in Portland, Oregon, says shoppers should not be using price as their only motivator. "Consumers don't do enough forward thinking when buying things." he says. "They think about durability and quality only when buying clothes and cars. People care more about what's cheaper or more efficient." Powell says that federal and state governments must lead by example, as in replacing paper milk cartons in schools with reusable lexan plastic designs.

The American Rental Association certainly thinks it's setting a good example. It blankets its member stores with big Earth posters emblazoned with green emblems and the message, "Rental is Good For All of Us."

At the Archdale Rental Center in Charlotte. North Carolina. Manager Kellie Brown says that her customers don't have to buy machines or equipment that they'd really only use once a year. "We're talking about things like drain snakes," she said. "Or very specialized equipment like lawn aerators, which you use only in the spring. People will probably only re-tile their bathrooms once, so do they need to buy ceramic tile cutters?" She also cites big construction equipment like jackhammers that the crews don't have the time or expertise to maintain. "I would say that renting helps save our country's resources," says Brown, echoing the association's message.

Buried Treasure 

Two other businesses -- pawnbroking and auctioneering -- also turn one man's junk into another's treasure. Bob Peltier is the Bob of Bob's Viking Pawnbrokers, in St. Paul, Minnesota. "We recycle everything that comes in," says Peltier. "We refurbish it and it goes back into the system." Hard luck stories often come attached to gold wedding and engagement rings, and these are refined (to remove the brass and copper) and then formed into blocks of "casting grade" gold for reforming into jewelry. "I'd say 80 percent of our customers are working people who get a little short before payday," said Peltier. "We buy their stuff and help get them back on their feet. We try to fix the stuff, but if it's beyond repair, we sell it to auctioneers."

And that's how people like Hank Kessler get their hands on it. Kessler runs the Auction Barn in Cranbury Township, Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh. "We specialize in estate work," Kessler says. "We take everything, from the pots and pans to the washers and dryers. We have many different buyers, from antique dealers to appliance salesmen. Everything's sold at our Friday night auctions. Tonight we're selling the entire contents of a three-bedroom house. People sometimes write into their wills that everything should be auctioned when they die, so the relatives don't fight over who gets what." Kessler said he likes to deal with the older furniture "because it's made better than the newer stuff, which is pressed sawdust. We get young couples come in here, just starting out, with little money, and we can set them up with a solid bedroom set that's going to last at a fraction of the cost of a new one." And, auction fever being what it is, everything is sold down to the last potholder.

Reuse Reborn

But while older forms of reuse are slowly declining, new and innovative forms are springing up. The Nevada-based Ribbon Factory, for instance, reloads used "disposable" computer printer ribbons and laser cartridges and resells them at half price. Kodak remanufactures about 18,000 copiers for the North American market every year, almost double its production of new copiers. The Xerox Corporation is also going ahead with a new line of "remanufactured" copiers. Asked why American corporations build in so much waste, Xerox communications manager Daniel Minchen says, "The trend is clearly toward the preservation of resources. In the specific case of Xerox Corporation, we do fix things. The machines are returned to us in Rochester, New York and completely rebuilt from the frame up. They have warranties that are identical to new copiers."

Remanufacturing is also available for automotive parts, office furniture, tools, vacuum cleaners and an assortment of other appliances and equipment. Laser cartridge remanufacture is one of the fastest-growing cottage industries in North America.

Waste Reduction

The most exciting inroads in refuse reduction have come from industrial "waste exchanges" -- regional and national computerized matchmaking services that link businesses discarding potentially usable material with other businesses that can use it. In 1993 an estimated 15 to 25 percent of the 12 million tons of goods listed were exchanged. Even more important is the fact that, in 1993, the number of waste exchanges doubled.

Even modest commercial programs can have significant effects on the generation of garbage: The Neighborhood Cleaners Association in New York City estimates that if customers at each of the 1,100-member drycleaners used reusable garment bags, more than 6.6 million plastic bags would be taken out of the waste stream each year.

In Los Angeles an arrangement between the major movie studios and Re-Sets Entertainment Commodities brings significant cuts in the city's solid waste, particularly wood. The estimated 250,000 sheets of lauan plywood utilized by the region's entertainment industry each year are now finding a second home among nonprofit theaters and cultural groups.

Reuse is hip, and entrepreneurs all over America are coming up with novel ways of making old things dance to new tunes. With a lot of work, we might reach the happy situation of Western Europe, which is on track to recover 90 percent of its packaging waste in 10 years. While it's sad to see the sun set on traditional fix-it industries, reuse is still alive and well.

Contacts: Choose to Reuse, $15.95 from Ceres Press, P.O. Box 87, Department CTR, Woodstock, NY 12498; Institute for Local Self-Reliance, 2425 18th Street NW, Washington, DC 20009/[phone].

RELATED ARTICLE: Second Time Around

As a veteran second-hand bargain seeker, I recently disappointed myself. The plastic zipper in my essential black pants ($4 from the Salvation Army) had given out, but they were otherwise in perfect shape; I didn't want to give them up. They sat on the top of my rag pile for several days while I mulled over my options.

In light of my belief in re-use, replacing the zipper was the obvious thing to do. But trouser zippers are a real challenge, and giving the job to a tailor would cost more than I paid for the pants in the first place. So I made a trip back to the Salvation Army, hoping that I could find another pair. Alas, it was not to be, so I gave up and bought a new pair at a department store for $20 -- highway robbery! It wasn't just spending the money that made me mad, though. I had succumbed to the clutches of retail. I was a thrift shop failure!

Beyond enabling teenagers to affect the grunge look, inspiring the eclectic style of Madonna and supplying endless retro spins for the fashion industry, used merchandise hasn't enjoyed the reputation it deserves: namely, as the choice of the socially conscious shopper.

Consider this: a brand-new shirt from the mall was probably grown with dangerous pesticides and made in some corporate-exploited country -- by low-paid workers in horrendous factory "sweatshop" conditions. It was given its brilliant colors by highly toxic petroleum-based dyes; transported on freighters or jets that burn tremendous amounts of fuel; treated with chemicals to make it wrinkle-free; merchandised with plastic and paper tags; marked up to an absurd level to profit the huge corporation that sells it; and packaged in a disposable bag.

Compare this roster with a shirt bought on "dollar day" at the Salvation Army. Having already lived one life with its original buyer, the chemicals have been washed out of it, it costs less than an Arizona Iced Tea and, at the time of purchase, the only resources it has used to get to the store are a few ounces worth of gasoline.

Indeed, buying inexpensive second-hand items takes the responsible consumer out of the over-advertised, name-brand hype shopping loop. That doesn't mean you can't find designer goods in the thrift stores: Because the U.S. has so many wealthy and wasteful people, goods with originally steep prices can be had for a song. Saving money is conservation at its most basic.

The strategy for successful bargain-hunting requires stamina, eagle eyes, persistence, love of surprises and humble acceptance of the fact that certain days in the second-hand store don't yield anything worthwhile. You never know what you're going to find... more often than not, it won't be the thing you were looking for.