The case of the missing handle
Other Columnists
It all started when the handle on one of the kitchen
cupboard doors broke.
It was a polished gold-plated number, with a red-oak inset - one of 51
handles that added even more class to our pretty classy kitchen. The red oak
inset, stained to match the cabinets, had come unglued. Not unusual. But here's
the mystery - the oak piece was nowhere to be found.
I interrogated the usual suspects, including two of my sons, my two
daughters and my wife. Of course, I knew she was innocent. No one claimed
responsibility for or knowledge of the wooden piece's disappearance. All I know
is that it didn't end up in my salad.
The search was on. I had to find a matching handle to replace the broken
one, or replace all 51. That, as they say, was not an option.
It was time to turn PI - parts investigator.
Perhaps it's the Phillip Marlowe in me, but I revel in these
around-the-house mysteries. Over the years, I've hunted down missing parts of
cars and replacement pieces for appliances. The gumshoeing can consume me.
Once, I tracked a cap for the fan-blade on our discontinued oscillating fan all
the way to Milford, Mass. I stayed on the trail of burners for an out-of-date
gas grill until they turned up at a Web- based appliance parts service in
Englewood, Colo. Even the missing plastic center cap for the chrome wheels on
my 1994 Mercury Marquis couldn't elude my sleuthing - I discovered one hiding
out at a salvage yard in Deer Park.
My secret to uncovering these hard-to-find items is hardly a secret: Good
old- fashioned perseverance. I don't give up.
But back to the case of the missing red-oak handle. I followed my first
hunch. I called on hardware stores and home centers. I came up empty.
Like with any good mystery, it is often a small but crucial bit of
information that can crack the case. When it comes to "part searching," the
best lead is finding the name of the manufacturer or distributor. Of course,
wooden cabinets don't often provide obvious clues. But my wooden cabinets have
adjustable hinges with a snap- on plastic cap covering the screws. Eagle-eyed
investigator that I am, I examined the cover - and there, imprinted on the cap,
were these words: "Kitchen Craft."
The modern PI has many tools at his disposal - the Internet brings a whole
new dimension to legwork. A Google search turned up the Web site for the
cabinet company in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada - KitchenCraft.com.
I left an e-mail with customer service.
A response came three days later in the form of a voice-mail message from
George Gordon, Kitchen Craft's eastern regional manger. But Gordon travels up
and down the coast. Pinning him down proved to be nearly impossible. I wasn't
about to sit and wait. I had a reputation as a PI to maintain.
From the Internet, I learned of the existence of two factory- authorized
Kitchen Craft showrooms in the United States. I called the one in Bellevue,
Wash, where I found Clint Noyes, general manager. I described my handle.
"It's a 'PSBWI,'" Noyes said.
Finally, a break, I thought.
"But you also have to have the right stain."
Over the phone, we couldn't determine with certainty the exact color -
honey, spice or harvest. Noyes had a suggestion: Taking the handle to a Long
Island distributor or an authorized kitchen and bath showroom.
Back at my computer, I found a search engine on the company Web site that
listed several showrooms and remodelers that use Kitchen Craft. I left phone
messages for several of them. No one returned my calls.
And then Gordon, the traveling Kitchen Craft manager, phoned. He was
calling from a snowy airport in Buffalo. He rattled off a few questions.
"Is the missing piece a knob or a handle?"
"What kind of cabinets do you have? Oak, cherry or maple?"
Then, I mentioned the name of the subdivision where I live. It was like a
light bulb going off.
"Unique Designs by Uzi," he said, telling me precisely where to go.
Turns out that the Manhasset company of that name designed all the kitchens
in my subdivision. I was impressed.
"Ask for Larry, and tell them I sent you," Gordon said. "Let me know how it
turns out."
A few minutes later, Larry Breisacher of Unique Designs was on the line:
"I'm sure we have some of those handles. If we don't, we'll order them for you.
Bring a handle down, so we can match the stain."
I was there the next morning. Breisacher rummaged around in the back room
while I talked to Uzi Ronen, the owner of Unique Designs.
"We don't get a lot of calls for something like that," he said. "People
live in their homes, and things break or wear, but most people just live with
it."
In less than 15 minutes, Breisacher returned with eight handles.
"See," said Ronen. "You have what you came for."
At about $4 each, I bought all eight handles.
Ronen smiled. Breisacher smiled. I smiled.
Even though the mystery of the missing wooden inset remains unsolved, the
story had a happy ending.
Marlowe would be proud.
The Internet brings a whole new dimension to legwork. A Google search turned up
the Web site for the cabinet company in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada
KitchenCraft.com.
E- mail: gary.dymski@ newsday.com.
