[Jan. 27th, 2011|04:07 am] interior crocodile alligator

We have a lot of doorknobs in our house.



More than you, I guarantee. And most of them don't go anywhere. I don't think I've ever shown you our doorknob collection. But xemcats

















Charlie B. collected these for years. He started collecting them during his work as a carpenter in the St. Paul school district. The 50s or maybe the early 60s.











Later, he got involved in a scene of doorknob enthusiasts and attended doorknob conventions. In other more fascinating news, doorknob enthusiasts and doorknob conventions exist. Wedged into his collection are albums of proof, hundreds of photos of smiling old gents and ladies behind table after table of gleaming Victorian brass and Art Deco porcelain.











This is only part of the collection -- there's probably two dozen more drawers full of knobs and other miscellaneous vintage hardware.







Each doorknob and drawer pull is painstakingly labeled and tracked in voluminous logs that are, in equal parts, mysterious and useless. As far as we know, nobody alive knows what to make of A-782, X-063 or I-382.











He co-authored a couple niche market books on antique hardware and remained active in the doorknob scene until his death, a little over two years ago.











Occasionally we get letters in patient old lady handwriting: she knows Charlie from the doorknob conventions. Her acquaintance is restoring a historical mansion. Charlie has a few appropriate pieces in his collection. She sends a check along. We can only assume it's a fair price -- she is a sweet old lady, after all. We squint in the bad basement light at the xeroxed guide she's sent us, doing our best to find what she's after.



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An 'interview' with Charlie from a 1983 newsletter.



