Are We There Yet?

December 11-17, 2017

Only at Kraftco

 

By Jay Edwards

 

In keeping in the spirit of this week’s feature, we are re-running this column from 2009.

 

When I need something around the house or at work, almost anything really, I begin my search at the little hardware store near the Heights known as Kraftco, because even if they don’t have what I’m looking for, which isn’t often, it’s always a treat to go.

 

So I found myself headed there the other day, through the Nascar flow of traffic on Cantrell Road, in my search for batteries and picture hooks.    

 

Like so many places right now, it’s summer in Arkansas, and the heat from the asphalt hit hard when I got out of my car at the parking lot of the nearly six-decade old store. There was a young man standing in front of the double glass doors waiting for a customer. He looked big enough to be involved in some of the two-a-day practices taking place these days around the city; another sign that fall is gratefully approaching.

 

After stopping briefly by the display of charcoal grills that line the area next to the entrance, I turned back to the young man, who already was greeting me with an open door.

 

He followed me inside, ready and willing to help as I told him what I needed. I followed him over the path worn into the tile floor by the tens of thousands who had come before, that leads to the large counter in the heart of the store.

 

I walked slowly, enjoying the atmosphere and smells that are unique to this long-cherished family owned establishment.

 

Nearby a man said he was looking for a copper mailbox, and his salesman headed off down one of the tight aisles that elicit thoughts of a grandmother’s attic, full of charm and memories from another time.

 

A woman came in, joining the activity by requesting a hammered soap dish for her upstairs bath, and the man helping her moved quickly, as if he had been expecting her.

 

It all reminded me of a Kraftco story I had been told by my friend Ken Ketcher, whose wife Renetta is a Realtor at the Janet Jones Company. Renetta once sold a house to an elderly single gentleman, and on the day before closing, Ken was with her when the man came for his final walk through.    

 

“We met at the front door,” Ken told me, “and before Renetta could open it the old guy says, ‘Hold it right there!’”

 

Ken asked him what the trouble was, and he said that someone had removed the doorknocker, and that he wasn’t buying the house without it.

 

“Sure enough,” Ken laughed, “there was an outline on the door, and two screw holes where a doorknocker had obviously been.”

 

“I told him I would get him a doorknocker and have it on before he moved in, but he said it had to be the exact doorknocker that had been there before, which he said was a goose wearing a bow tie.”

 

“He was adamant about it and so I pulled Renetta aside and told her I was off to go find a goose wearing a bow tie doorknocker.”

 

“She looked at me like I was crazy and said it would be impossible, but I headed out on my mission anyway.”

 

Not wasting any precious minutes at Home Depot or Lowe’s, Ken headed straight for Kraftco.

 

“When I got there I told the guy what I needed and he looked over his shoulder and yelled out something like, ‘Hey Charlie, we still got any of those tuxedo goose doorknockers?’”

 

“The one called Charlie mumbled something back in hardware language and headed down one of the aisles, where he began climbing up on a ladder to get at a spot that looked like it hadn’t been got at in awhile.”

 

“Then, unbelievably, I heard Charlie say – ‘Yeah here it is.’”

 

A moment later Ken was walking out the door with his yellow hand written receipt for his purchase of the unusual doorknocker that looked like a goose wearing a bow tie.

 

Back at the house Ken found Renetta and the old man still standing by the front door, as if the absent doorknocker had created a force field to keep them from entering.

 

“I walked up to him and handed over the potential deal-breaking replica,” Ken said. “He looked down at it suspiciously and then back up at me. He couldn’t believe it, and neither could I for that matter. Renetta stood there speechless with her mouth open. I had been gone less than twenty minutes.”

 

So the next day everyone was happy as the old gentleman closed on his goose in the bow tie doorknocker, which came with a house attached.  

 

I told this story recently to Kraftco owner Dick Bona who said he remembered the famous doorknocker that Ken had bought and that it was the only one they had in stock; he wasn’t sure they even made them anymore.

 

But if you ever have a house deal that depends on one, it would probably be wise to check with him anyway.     

 

See all of Jay’s past columns on our website at www.dailyrecord.us.