Junk king leaves big boots to fill
Montrose icon closes after nearly 4 decades, part of changing landscape of community
Bob Novotney’s boots are made for walking, and they’re not going to stop until they get to Moulton.
But let’s clarify. The boots aren’t exactly going to walk to Moulton. They’ll ride with the rest of the stuff the 68-year-old Houston junk entrepreneur is transferring from the Texas Junk Co., an iconic Montrose venue renowned for its extensive collec- tion of used boots, to a new store in the Lavaca County hamlet of 1,000.
“I have no idea of when I’ll open,” Novotney said. “I’ve been in this location 36 years and four months and I’m in no hurry to open my doors again.”
On Saturday, his last day at the 215 Welch St. emporium, Novotney held court as customers — some of whom arrived before the 11 a.m. opening — and longtime friends ambled through the cavernous, dusky, now largely empty space.
“Today, it’s all about me,” Novotney said with mock severity. “Why should I answer questions that I’ve answered 100,000 times before?”
Then, without waiting for questions, he offered answers.
Novotney’s store is closing because his landlord has other plans for the property. He’s not happy about it, but then, funky Montrose isn’t what it used to be. The neighborhood is filling with four-story townhomes and, averred Novotney, “ignoramuses.”
“People walk in the middle of the street at night despite perfectly good sidewalks,” he growled. “They’re dressed in black. They push baby strollers down the middle of the street.”
A leonine lord in a kingdom of boots, odd picture frames and castoff furniture, he shook his graying mane in consternation.
“This is the end of old Montrose. The millennials are taking over,” said Houston filmmaker Chad Prince, a Novotney friend of decades. “Bob is probably the last of the country hippies. He’s an original. He’s consistent, hon-
orable, a man of style, an icon.”
And he’s a diligent businessman, even if he opens his store for business only a couple weekends a month.
A Wisconsin native whose Czech-German family heritage mimics the ethnic makeup of his new rural Moulton home, Novotney hit the road after high school for an extended cross-country tour. He journeyed through the desert Southwest and up the California coast. He landed in Los Angeles and would have stayed if work had been available.
In 1967, he arrived in San Francisco “in the spring of the summer of love.”
“It was groovy,” he said. “I walked up Haight Street from one end to the other.”
Had he found work there, he would have stayed. Instead, he kept moving, hitting the trail to Houston to visit friends.
H-town was no San Francisco, but it had been brushed by the burgeoning youth movement. It had its own radical news- paper and, downtown near Buffalo Bayou, an “underground” district of clubs and head shops.
Novotney found work with a battery company, then helped a friend in a sales job. Disillusioned with working for others, he founded his junk treasure shop in 1979.
Ostensibly, boots were his business. He posted a big sign on his building’s exterior: “Over 1,000 used cowboy boots from $30.”
But his real stock in trade was joyful chaos. On a typical day, the store would be filled to overflowing with boots, clothing, furniture, artwork, bicycles, light fixtures and frames. In preparation for the final move, he dismantled an improvised stage used for a dramatic production of John Stein- beck’s “Of Mice and Men.” The play was presented 25 years ago.
On Saturday, the sidewalk was lined with military-style caps.
“You never knew what you would find,” said David Roland, who with his wife, Anne, frequented the store for a decade. “It was very Montrose,” she added.
Novotney never tallied the number of boots he had sold.
“I never kept track,” he said. “I was always getting more stuff. I would buy, sell, buy, sell.”
About 15 years ago, he said, he bought a 30-acre farm near Moulton. Rural life, he said, suits him well.
“I’m trying to think of a nice way to say this,” he said. “Moulton is a little behind the times. They don’t want change. That makes the tax base low. The school is top-performing in the state, both academically and in sports. The sports are ones that aren’t costly: cross-country running, baseball, basketball. The people are thrifty.”
The town is within easy reach of junk-craving daytrippers from Houston, San Antonio, Austin and Corpus Christi.
As a steady stream of well-wishers filed through the Montrose store Saturday, as Novotney planned his final departure. All the goods left outside the store when he locked up at 6 p.m., he said, would be free to passersby. “That’s everything that’s outside the store,” he said.
“This is all a little bittersweet,” Novotney said. “All my life I’ve never had a game plan. Even when I was a kid and people asked what I wanted to be. Afireman. I actually was a fireman, a wild lands fireman, in Alaska for a while. All I wanted to do was enjoy life — and not harm anyone.”