GOODBYE BONGO VIDEO: A SAVAGE CINEMA TRIBUTE

“I feel like a teacher that has to close her school. No, actually, Carl is the Superintendent and I’m the Principal and I’ve had my teachers and children and families. But, sometimes schools have to close.”
-Nancy Streckert June 25, 2011

My heart feels so heavy right now.

I have never known the origin of the proverb, “All good things come to an end” yet with all due respect to whomever first uttered the quotation, I have to emphatically disagree when it comes to the closing of Bongo Video, a local business in Madison owned and operated by Nancy Streckert and Carl Denger for nearly 16 years. The sea change in the home video industry from VHS to DVD/Blu-Ray and now streaming to your telephones has taken its toll upon Bongo and on August 20th of this year, the doors closed forever. I guess it is an inevitable outcome but it is still a reality that is so painful to me.

First of all, and I do realize that I may be more than a little naïve, but in my mind, I would think that the different formats of how customers could obtain movies for home viewing would be able to co-exist in some way. Whether truthful or not, we are all being told that this perception is incorrect and frankly, I hate being forced to follow along into the world of faceless, robotic businesses even further with mail delivery and so on. But, for me, and most importantly, my sadness stems from the fact that Bongo Video was so much more than a store. It was a place where my cinematic passions were rewarded, nurtured, sustained and throughout it all, I met many wonderful people, from the owners and staff to the customers, and I made a collection of great friends. In my mind, this is the reality of a small business, as we’ve been hearing this term politically tossed around in recent years. Bongo Video was a part of the Madison community that celebrated its commitment to its community. Bongo Video was the epitome of what small businesses do when they operate at their very best.

I first became acquainted with Bongo Video in 1995, when I worked as a “Sales Agent” at a now defunct children’s educational toy/book store. While on a brief respite inside of our break room/storage area, a co-worker had mentioned the name of the place to a few staff members and I became intrigued. My video renting, at that stage of my life, essentially was exclusive to a Blockbuster Video that was located in fairly close proximity to the apartment I lived in and I have to admit to feeling a tad reluctant in trying a new establishment. Yet, somehow, this co-worker spoke of Bongo Video as an entity that exhibited a certain uniqueness in the home video renting market. Yes, the store happened to be located in close proximity to his abode but still, he made it sound like this place was refreshingly different.

Bongo Video was originally housed in a seemingly perfect location. It was a funky little store nestled next to a popular Thai restaurant on the defiantly Earthy and very funky Williamson Street. Known to all as “Willy Street,” an area with its apartments, colorfully eccentric denizens, and stream of coffeehouses and all manner of off-the-beaten path restaurants, the new video store felt to be a most logical addition to the street which was also a traffic thoroughfare bridging the east side of Madison to the downtown area and beyond. While I do not remember the first time I walked into Bongo Video or what I even rented (that is, if I rented anything at all as I may have entered the store solely to investigate it), on first sight it was immediately obvious that Bongo Video was not the standard looking video rental store.

I guess you could say the décor made me think of a clubhouse, the sort of clubhouse that anyone could potentially join if they so wished. Yes, there was all of the requisite information about obtaining membership and comparative rental prices but what I immediately enjoyed were the cinematic sights of film iconography reconfigured with playful and sarcastically ironic sayings and statements encouraging all who entered to try out a title, a section or anything else available to the public within the store. None of the staff members wore matching uniforms and all of them engaged in conversation after conversation with customers concerning the quality of one film over another, and passionately suggesting titles to try out for an evening.

Over the following visits, during which I did begin to rent movies, I discovered that unlike other stores, which would hold titles for you for an hour if at all, Bongo Video would hold titles for you until that day’s closing time. I found this to be a healthy piece of knowledge to have when desiring to obtain the new releases quickly and beat the rush of competitive viewers. Each day of the week had a special rental promotion. One day of the week even carried a Trivia promotion where a customer could answer a Trivia question at the counter and if answered correctly, that person could obtain a free rental. Ice cream and other tasty treats were sold daily. The store was family friendly, children friendly and even canine friendly as one would often see dogs with their owners perusing the aisles hoping to retrieve one of the several dog treats that sat upon the check-out counter.

While I still traveled to the closer Blockbuster, Bongo Video slowly became my exclusive place to rent movies as it seemed to call to me with its uniqueness coupled with a newfound desire to give my support to a local business. I figured that Blockbuster would be fine without my constant presence and Bongo possibly would need me more.

By the time, Bongo Video opened a second store, literally around the corner from my apartment, my bond with the business became cemented. Unless there was a title the store simply did not carry due to its smaller size, there was absolutely no reason whatsoever for me to go anywhere else and my allegiance to Bongo Video became steadfast and ultimately, passionate. I cannot count the times when I casually arrived at the store with the sole intent to pick up a particular title or just to browse for a few minutes and before I knew it, I had spent hours in the store, conversing with staff members, at first about films and eventually about our lives and the world in which we lived.

Over the years, I met the loquacious and deliberately paced storyteller Gretta Wing Miller, a passionate documentarian and film editor who has worked extensively on television documentaries (American Masters, National Geographic), briefly worked as an editor on Director Bob Fosse’s brutally masterful “All That Jazz” (1979) and currently owns and operates her own Madison based studio. Through Gretta, I met her daughter Robin, who worked as a Bongo Video clerk as a teenager, moved away after graduation, became a masseuse and just this summer, Gretta showed me Robin’s wedding photos.

There was Elizabeth Blume, another teenage clerk as well as a beautiful blast of sunshine whose graciousness made me feel like a friend the instant we met. Through her, I met her wonderful parents, Sandy and Ed, as we lived in the same neighborhood. I watched her graduate from high school, go through her years as a preschool teacher, even working at the same school in which I toiled for a spell. Now that she has got be around 30, I am so happy to tell you that I still know her to this day and treasure her more than ever.

I met the sardonic Jesse, the even more sardonic Jenny (who spent copious amounts of time howling with me at Showtime’s ridiculous series “The L Word”), the adorably sly and raven haired Kelsey McDade, the lovely Sarah Austin, a massage therapist and also the inimitable Peter Kaesberg, whom I first met at Madison's legendary (and currently struggling) B-Side record store years earlier. For many years, until his departure from Bongo and Madison itself, one of my closest friendships was with Matt Sheyka, who encyclopedic film knowledge and eloquent discussion held me enraptured endlessly. To those people, and others who have come and gone over the years and ingratiated themselves to me, I salute you, I honor and treasure you and I thank you for indulging me and my passions, always extending friendship in the process.

And then, there’s Nancy and Carl.

While I cannot remember exactly how I met Nancy, memory tells me that our friendship was a fast one. Quirky, lovely, funny, and with the hugeness of her open-hearted nature, Nancy welcomed me to Bongo Video graciously, treated me as a world class customer from the start and our friendship built from that point. Carl, whom I saw less frequently, was Nancy’s equal in quirkiness and generosity. Nancy and I had our healthy film debates as aspects of our particular cinematic tastes differed grandly and we also had many comical discussions about potential renting selections she termed as “laundry movies,” the type of movies that one did not have to pay strict attention to, the ones where you could just fold your laundry with. To that, I would always parry with the admission that if I’m paying to watch a movie, then I want to watch the movie. In return, Nancy would cheerfully continue with her pitches, enchanting me all the while with her peerless enthusiasm.

As Nancy and Carl encouraged a conversation with their customers about movies through the usage of tiny review cards customers could utilize for their own personal reviews, Bongo Video allowed me with my very first outlet for written criticism. Believe it or not, dear readers, the review cards were so tiny that I was indeed forced to spit out a complete review in just a few short words (and in my own questionable handwriting at that). But I didn’t care about the hows and whys. I was so happy to be able to have this opportunity and Nancy tacked up every single card I wrote next to the films in question. In fact, on one occasion, Nancy asked me if I could actually refrain from writing negative reviews of new releases because what I was writing was actually being read and adhered to!! While I was stunned that anyone would pay attention to any of my scrawled out reviews, I happily relented in complete respect to Nancy and her ability to run her business as best as she was able.

Areas of Bongo Video were devoted to Staff Picks in all manner of categories from selected titles of favorite filmmakers to the most arcane sub genres. Nancy and Carl once allowed me the opportunity to create an "Honorary Staff Pick" shelf and I relished the experience while also discovering how difficult it was to pick 20-30 random titles out of an entire store to spotlight. What I thought would be a twenty minute process ended up being about two hours and throughout it all, Nancy, Carl and their staff remained so open, so positive, so welcoming and I knew I would never have this experience anywhere else.

But, it was not always just about the movies. With Nancy, she truly cared about the individuals who visited her store. I always heard her in deep conversations with customers about their lives, their families, the schools their children attended, the politics of the day and so on and eventually, I saw and understood how the process of relationship building contributed to the success of Bongo Video. During an unexpected renting lull a couple of years ago, Nancy even called me at home just to check on me as she worried that something awful had happened as she had not seen me in some time. After assuring her that all was well in my world, she gave me a free rental for no reason other than it was something nice to do. I don’t think that I could ever fully express how touched I felt by the gesture, the concern and the fact that Nancy knew her clientele so completely that she would take the time to inquire about me. And furthermore, if she performed this duty just for me, she undoubtedly had done the same for anyone else who faithfully frequented her store.

After pouring through all of these written memories and emotions, I think what I am trying to express to you is this: At Bongo Video, movies were the catalyst for the continued nurturing and growth of a community. This is why the end of Bongo Video has been so painful for me. Yes, it is just a store. I know it’s a store but for me it was so much more than being a faceless brick and mortar location where items were rented and sold. Bongo Video was a social experience, a place where people enjoyed visiting. Going to Bongo Video to rent a movie was never a joyless task because once you arrived there, you were always among friends.

Over the sixteen years I spent at Bongo Video, I watched Nancy and Carl’s children, now ages 7 and 14, literally grow up in that environment and in turn they have watched me grow up as well. I have written quite a bit about symbiotic relationships on Savage Cinema and life at Bongo Video is a prime example of how those symbiotic relationships work and thrive. Because of Nancy and Carl’s endless generosity and kindness, I wanted this business to succeed and succeed grandly.

By the time, Nancy and Carl closed the store’s original Willy Street location and moved the second location into a nearby strip mall with considerably less neighborhood foot traffic, I guess I knew that the writing was on the wall. I didn’t want to even consider a world without this store and I was determined to see Bongo Video survive. I felt that if I were somehow able to rent every title all by myself, they would have enough funds to keep the operation afloat indefinitely. But, nothing lasts forever.

Now I do realize that the end of this store is insignificant when you hold it in perspective to the real tragedies of the world. That said, it doesn’t make my sadness any less real or valid. Forced change is something that I have always found myself struggling to accept and for now, I just don’t like being forced to accept a world where we have to go further into technological isolation as the social experience of Bongo Video will be intensely missed.

Very recently, one of my dearest friends from childhood suggested that perhaps I purchase the store myself and take it over. Believe me, dear readers, the thought did enter my head, especially as the news of Bongo Video’s closing first became public knowledge, therefore a blinding reality. In fact, the suggestion reminded me of the wonderful conclusion of Kevin Smith’s “Clerks II” (2006) in which our our slacker anti-heroes Dante and Randal confronted their 30’s malaise by deciding to purchase the Quick Stop convenience store and operate it themselves. Like the person who would want to wrap themselves around a tree to save it from being cut down forever, I feel the same. If I were able to save this store singlehandedly, I would do so in a heartbeat. If I had any business sense (in addition to the necessary funds to own and operate) I would easily take it over and continue what Nancy and Carl began to the very best of my abilities. But, I can’t. I wish I could but I just can’t and there’s nothing I can do to stop the inevitable no matter how badly I wish otherwise.

"Times change," said Nancy, in a recent newspaper interview. "Stories come to an end."

Very true. Very sad but very true. I know this tribute has got to be one of the lengthiest I have written and I appreciate any of you who have taken this ride with me. But, I feel that I owe Nancy and Carl a tribute of this nature just to thank them for what they gave to me since 1995. And yet, no matter what I write and how much I write, it could never fully express the gratitude I feel as no amount of words would ever be enough.

Goodbye Bongo Video. There will never be anything like it ever again. And how sad it is that it had to end at all.

But…how thankful I am that it was here for as long as it was.