Orlando Frati’s store has been nearly as empty as Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard since Christmas, a standout in a holiday shopping season where recession-strapped consumers left the inventory right on the shelves of many Bangor retailers. The reason his business is so good, Frait says, is the recession.

Frati has operated at the same State Street location for about 30 years, buying and selling “all article of value,” according to the sign in the window. He sees the effects of hard economic times daily in the people who walk into the small, brightly lit shop, whether they are there to buy or sell.

“Around Christmas time there are usually a few more sellers,” he says. “People find themselves short of money to buy fuel oil, make payments on car or health insurance, pay the rent or get an automobile repaired. And you have people out of work who need to sell things just to get by.”

That traffic has not increased as dramatically during this highly publicized recession as you might think, says Frati. “I see people every winter who’ve been laid off by local industries when business gets slow.”

As he talks Frati is working at a table behind the counter, tapping gently at a gold ring threaded on a graduated dowel to even out its shape. After polishing, the piece will become part of his inventory. Has the lingering economic downturn brought him an increased number of well-heeled customers trying to unload more costly goods? Frati shakes his head, still tapping.

“The middle class? We don’t see them,” he says.

While there may have been a few more customers parting with their posession for cash this year, the most noticeable upturn was at the other end of his business: the buyers.

“It seemed there were a lot more people this Christmas who came in to buy a TV, VCR or CD player as a gift,” says Frati, “because the price of a new one was too expensive.”

Orlando Frati is the second of three generations in this Bangor business. His father, Enrico Frati, started it all many years ago with a pawn shop and secondhand store at Pickering Square. His son Orlando Frati Jr. now works in the State Street store beside him. Yet some things have changed.

“Many people think we’re still a pawn shop because that was how it started, but pawn shops have slacked off in general. You don’t see them that much anymore,” he says. “We didn’t see the same volume of pawn broking business since the air base went out.”

While the Pickering Square store dealt in secondhand clothing, Frati no longer buys clothes or furs. “It’s the storage problem,” he explains.

He will buy hunting rifles and hand guns, but turns away assault rifles. Frait says he doesn’t want the headaches. Fine china is also out. “It’s the breakage, and I just don’t know enough about it,” says Frati.

Musical instruments and cameras, on the other hand, are traditional staples of the trade. There are customers who check in regularly with Frati or ask him to call them if a certain something turns up. He’s seen several trends in “most wanted” items come and go.

“A decade or so ago, when precious metals were so high, it was silver coffee and tea services. I hardly ever see those anymore,” says Frati. “Seven or eight years ago everybody was looking for those portable stereos, boom boxes. Now it’s electronics, VCRs and CD players; after Christmas there’s not a VCR left in here.”

Jewelry remains a perennial favorite. “Customers come looking for diamonds or rings; they can get a 50 percent discount — that’s a real discount,” says Frati.

Since jewelry is often the first thing that translates to cash in the pinch of hard times, Frati’s long glass case still displays a glittering post-holiday selection of rings (many flashing colored stones), chains and pins. This reminds him of another side effect of bad economic times that shows up in his shop: the collapse of relationships.

“People sometimes sell their rings here when they break up or divorce. Last year, though, I had a couple come back about six months later. They’d gotten together again and were remarrying. They wanted to do it with their original engagement ring and wedding band, and you know what? I still had them in stock.

“They were as happy as larks,” he says. “The woman gave me a big hug before they left.”

Even a happy ending has its costs, though.

“Yes, I made a profit on the rings,” Frati says with a quiet smile. “After all, I’d held them for a long time.”

Sandra Cooke of Ellsworth is a free-lance writer.