Sometimes, a story is better than what actually happened. Here’s the start of my story…
On Friday, I was driving with my family to get a copy of our house key. My toddler was sleeping in his car seat after a fun morning at the zoo, and my wife and I were listening to the 90’s alternative playlist she had made for our vacation which had gotten cut short earlier in the week (full disclosure: this playlist also had on “The Hand That Feeds”, a song recorded in 2005 for Nine Inch Nails’ brilliant With Teeth; I was willing to let this transgression pass as the song is an absolute banger). As we drove to the Buikema’s Ace Hardware on 75th Street in Naperville, my wife (who grew up in the area) said, very non-chalantly, “I can’t remember if it is this Ace or the one on Washington St. that used to have the monkey.”
Understandably, I had questions. Equally understandably, my wife had few answers.
Over the next few minutes, I bombarded her with queries trying to figure out how a hardware store could have a live monkey just hanging out in the store. When I pointed out exactly how odd this was, she pointed out that Ross on Friends also had a monkey, and seemed undeterred by the fact that she was talking about a fictional character. However, because my wife is one of the funniest people I know, she had a brilliant answer for how such a thing was possible: “It was the 80’s.” To my spouse, this just seemed like a commonplace fact that no one should be surprised by, as if Ace Hardware were known for having various primates in every store.
While the rest of the family stayed in the car, I entered Ace Hardware, determined to find answers and also get a copy of my house key. As I waited in line behind a gentleman who, seemingly, needed multiple copies of every key he has ever had in his life, I sized up the man behind the counter. I get that this may be a little bit of stereotyping on my part, but he seemed like a dude who had been working at this particular hardware store for a long time. Maybe it was his grey hair or pleasant demeanor with the customer (while also making a few jokes some might deem not quite politically-correct) or just his ease with the key copier. It wasn’t that he seemed like a guy who would work at a hardware store, this man seemed like he embodied this specific Ace Hardware store.
When called, I came forward and asked for my key copy. The guy smiled, and said I really should get more copies. I told him that I didn’t need anymore copies, but that I did have the weirdest question he was going to hear all day. Without a beat, the man behind the key counter looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Is this about the monkeys?”
There are some discrepancies between the stories I was told at the Ace Hardware and any reporting, which is shockingly little, that I can find. For example, a story in the Chicago Tribune said that Kyle Buikema, owner of the chain of Ace Hardware stores in question, had five monkeys, while the man at the store told me there were seven monkeys. Also, the Tribune article, written due to protests from animal rights groups (these protests would cause the Buikema family to remove the monkeys from the stores in October of 1995), mentioned stores only in the Illinois cities of Naperville, Wheaton and Montgomery, but in conversations I have had, people remember there also being a monkey in the store’s Aurora location.
Furthermore, I could only find two Chicago Tribune articles about these monkeys, one covering the protests and a second when the animals finally were removed from the stores. The gentleman I spoke to mentioned a NBC affiliate doing a television story, and I have no reason to doubt him. But that is still a shockingly scarce amount of coverage.
Or maybe my wife is right and this is no big deal?
To test my theory, I explained the story to some of my friends. Here were their reactions:
WHAT?!
Eric Rezendes, comedian
Matt. No. You are gonna tell us which Aces, specifically, when specifically, and how and why.
David Sitko, comedian and Fancy Boys Club contributor
Wait. What?
Brandon Andreasen, comedian and Fancy Boys Club co-founder
WTF
Rick Copper, Fancy Boys Club contributor
what
Michael Grace, Fancy Boys Club contributor
I just called the Ace. You aren’t lying.
David Sitko, again
Feeling vindicated, I moved forward.
Back in Ace, the key copier is telling me every story he knows about the monkeys. How he used to take care of the monkey in the store, a simian named Chiclet. How we once roughed up a teenager who was torturing Chiclet by using a cigarette lighter to make his water dispenser hot. How customers loved seeing the monkeys and how kids cried when they had to be removed. And he answered every question, although I’m not sure he knew all of the correct answers.
At one point, I asked how Buikema was even able to buy seven monkeys. At this point, the older man who was repairing screen doors and windows stuck his head up from his machine. Like the key copier, he just gave off the vibe of a man who had been working there as a teenager and just never stopped. And his response was perfect.
“I got a monkey guy.”
Of course you do. This was, to quote my wife, the 80s.
According to the Tribune article written by Lynn Van Matre, in response to protests from Illinois Animal Action, Ace Hardware’s corporate offices contacted the USDA and were told that the Ace monkeys met all the monkey-keeping standards anyone needs. But what exactly are those? To ask this question a better way, what would I need to do to get a monkey?
Again, the answers are not entirely clear.
Depending on what website you go to, it is not 100% certain on whether it is allowed for an Illinois resident to own a monkey. Some sites state that all private monkey ownership in the state is not legal, while others claim an Illinois resident could own a capuchin monkey as long as they were using it as a service pet.
But even then, the process to purchasing one seems complicated. There appear to be permits and guidelines. And capuchin monkeys ain’t cheap. They appear- again, the numbers vary dramatically- to cost anywhere from $5,000 to $18,000.
Well, this was a depressing way to be told I can’t have a monkey.
The last story I was told was the most depressing of them all.
After making the decision to remove the monkeys from the stores, Chiclet found a new home at a sanctuary in Texas. However, do to some sort of mix-up, the sanctuary was unaware that the monkey suffered from diabetes. At the store, the man copying keys told me, he was responsible for giving Chiclet insulin. The poor monkey died less than a year later.
I thanked the man for my key and the stories and made my way to the register to pay. As I did, I passed by a stuffed monkey, no doubt a way to keep the memory of Chiclet alive. The kid behind the register was young and his red vest covered a shirt with the Atari logo. I asked him if he knew that, for a while, the store kept a caged, living monkey for everyone to see. He hadn’t, then replied, “Man, that’s weird.”
It sure is, my guy. It sure is.
Fancy Boys Club 