The Early Years of the Grease Filter Business

I wanted to get into the grease filter exchange business. Back then in Chicago, it was a pretty big thing, and I figured there was an opportunity. So I started buying filters. The problem was, once I had the filters, I had to figure out how to clean them.

At first, I did it in my garage. I scrounged up an old oil tank, cut the top off, and rigged a burner under it — a log burner from a fireplace, of all things — just to heat the water. I’d let it get hot, throw the filters in, and then power wash them. It worked, but it was a filthy, miserable process. My garage was constantly a mess of grease, steam, and dirty water.

Eventually, that setup got too ugly to manage, so I moved the whole operation out onto a piece of property I owned. I set up soak tanks in the garage there. At first they were just cold soak tanks — filters would sit for a couple of days before I pulled them out and power washed them at a makeshift wash station. I didn’t have running water on the property, so I had to truck it in. I installed a thousand-gallon tank and had a water truck deliver loads to me. It was about as Mickey Mouse as you could imagine — grease, tanks, hoses, water sloshing around everywhere. By all means, it was not a professional setup. But it got the job done, and I ran it that way for a couple of years.

Eventually, I decided I needed to level up. I rented a commercial building in a little town in the northeast corner of Illinois. By chance, the landlord I rented from was already in the filter business and also did kitchen exhaust cleaning. That turned out to be a lucky break. We got to know each other, became friends, and one day he made me a deal — I’d sell him my filter business, and he’d sell me his kitchen exhaust cleaning business. It worked out beautifully for both of us. We each leaned into what we wanted, and we kept a great working relationship for years.

Then life threw a curveball. The poor guy passed away, and everything changed overnight. His wife came to me and said, “You had a deal with my husband, not with me. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” Just like that, the trust and handshake agreement we had was gone. Within a year, I had her out of business. It wasn’t out of spite — it was survival. That’s just how business goes sometimes.

I’ll be honest, though. I do miss him. He was a good man, and I respected the partnership we had. It’s funny — in business you don’t just remember the deals or the money. You remember the people. And when they’re gone, it leaves a hole that even success can’t fill.