QUEENS, NY January 12, 2004 — For more than 70 years, Lewis of Woodhaven has been outfitting people from all over Queens. WNYC's Fred Mogul went to Woodhaven to talk to third-generation owners Jeff and Robert Lewis about hanging up their bright red sales vests.

Everything in this aisle, we ring up Aisle 6, please

Technically, this is a Going-Out-of-Business-Sale, not a Hurricane Sale, but it looks like a hurricane hit Lewis' of Woodhaven, which takes up almost an entire block of Jamaica Avenue. When Jan first came to Lewis's in the 1930s, she was wheeled in a stroller.

Jan: I've been here since the grandparents ran the store as a mom-and-pop store. It was smaller then, and it growed like topsy.

A frazzled Robbie Lewis surveys the chaos.

Lewis: I've always been very adamant about straightening the counters and keeping things neat, and now it's totally out of control, so that's hard to deal with

He's sad about closing his father's and grandfather's store, but the moment of his liberation is almost at hand.

I was the one who made the decision to close the doors. I can't say I'm sorry about it. I'm looking forward to my next adventure.

Robbie and his cousin, Jeff Lewis, were practically raised in the store, which grew out of their grandfather's pushcart sock business on the Lower East Side. His two sons moved the outfit to a 20-by-60-foot Woodhaven storefront, gradually expanding left, right and back. The brothers quixotically tried to stock the store with every conceivable need.

Jeff Lewis: Many stores carry what's just called the A items, the best selling items. We went much deeper than that, and if we carried safety pins, which we did, we probably carried seven different kinds of safety pins. True, 1 or 2 probably sold well, and the other 5 didn't, but nonetheless, we had them.

Whatta ya looking for? Next aisle turn right

It's strange, but in a way this massive variety store under the el suggests what might be called a Queens version of Henry David Thoreau's famous call to simplify, simplify, simplify. As veteran shopper Edward Bradford puts it:

My feeling is, if Lewis didn't have it, you didn't need it.

Today isn't exactly a banner day for needs, as opposed wants. Scavengers descend on cut-rate piles of greeting cards, bobble-heads and N'Synch action figures. But people do speak with a certain awe about the breadth of necessities you could find here.

Woman1: Pots, pans, dishes, glass pitcher
Man1: boots, jackets, underwear
Woman2: Socks for my husband, socks for me
Man2: electronics, plumbing supplies
Woman2: makeup, gardening, all my sewing needs

Most of all, what people seemed to need from their neighborhood that Lewis's uniquely provided was human contact. Sales clerk Letty Lee has worked here most of the last dozen years.

We see the same customers every day. This is like their daily outing, and they love just coming and talking to all the employees. There's people who come by bus, or by train, just to come for a couple hours, you know, walk around, talk to everybody, plus, they can get just about everything here.

Jeff and Robbie Lewis will be getting a lot less human contact with their new jobs, selling supplies wholesale to hospitals, group homes and other institutions. But they'll also get what they figure amounts to an extended vacation - 40-hour work-weeks.