Landmarks: Steger museum showcases lifetime of locksmithing

The director of the San Diego Police Museum in California was considering acquiring an artifact last year — an old, weathered padlock with a plate stamped “San Quentin Death Row 41.”

But first, he wanted some assurances about its authenticity. So he reached out to Harvey Sass, of Elmer & Son Locksmiths in Steger.

Sass, who is Elmer’s son, has been immersed in his craft since he was a youngster. His dad started the business in 1941, when Harvey was 2. Harvey became an official employee “the day after Labor Day in 1962,” settling into the family business because “when I got out of the Navy I had to have a job because I just got married.”

He became an enthusiast over the years and in the 1970s, after Elmer & Son expanded its building on Chicago Road, Harvey Sass decided to devote some of the new space to a museum of memorabilia related to locksmithing.

“Some of this stuff has been laying around here for the last 60 or 80 years,” he said. We’ve been in business for 82 years and some of the stuff never sold or was sitting in the corner.

“People donated to us, and I bought a few at flea markets or auctions, and we got all different types of items. We had it all kind of jimble-jumbled, so we laid it out to make it more interesting.”

Now, the Locksmith Museum’s collection includes more than 900 items and has overflowed into the backrooms and work areas of the business.

On display are padlocks, some centuries old, and cutaway showcase models of vault locks with the mechanics purposely exposed. Sass has compiled advertising souvenirs dating back decades and salvaged safe deposit boxes. Prison artifacts include a ball-and-chain and handcuffs in different styles, and even some cell locks.

“Some of those probably are still in use,” he said.

One shelf is devoted to anti-theft devices from the early days of automobiles that we’re designed to disable vehicles when attached to their wheel spokes. Another shelf displays tear gas trap canisters that would break if someone was trying to muscle their way into a vault.

“There are locks and keys going back to the early 1800s,” Sass said. “All kinds of fancy stuff. Weird looking locks and keys and different things.”

He also has hundreds of what he calls “little safe banks,” each one different.

His favorite item in the collection? “Everything,” Sass said.

The entire place is a monument to locksmithing. Old keys are embedded in the concrete sidewalk outside, and several antique safes are stationed out front. Sass isn’t worried about anyone walking off with them because they weigh over 4,000 pounds, he said.

It’s a diverse collection.

“Some of these things are very interesting to people, and some might just look like a piece of brass,” he said.

There are a few pieces meant to inject some humor into a visit, such as an old key someone affixed to a plaque with an inscription noting it opens a chastity belt. To enliven a safe he placed outside at a side entrance, he winked at the shadowy history of nearby Chicago Heights by painting on an inscription: “Al Capone, Liquor Dist. Chicago and Da Heights.”

“It’s an old safe — 100 years old,” he said. “I cleaned it up and painted it and put Al Capone’s name on it. A lot of people think it’s the real thing, but it’s out there for conversation. It’s advertising.”

Several other antique bank safes are scattered inside and outside of the building, including large, spherical “cannonball safes” Sass said were designed to hold an institution’s gold. But amassing safes is space prohibitive, so he often just cuts out the locking mechanisms, name plates and other interesting parts for restoration projects.

“Safes like that, we call ‘em clunkers,” Sass said, pointing to a lock mechanism. “You can’t sell it as being fireproof or break-in proof. It wore itself out. It’s a Model T is what it is. This is off a safe door, a key lock from 1840.”

They’re not just for his museum collection, either. When people are restoring safes or locks on their own, they often consult Sass for parts or help.

“If someone is restoring a safe and the lock is missing, we would probably have it,” Sass said. “We get stuff sent to us to repair and make keys for that they can’t get anywhere else. We get them from Wisconsin, the East Coast. One person in Wilmette sends us old skeleton key locks to make keys for.”

It’s a labor of love for Sass, who devotes much of his free time to his restoration work. That can involve chiseling out cement poured into some safes to make them more protective against fire.

“I like it. It’s something to do, and it’s satisfying,” Sass said. “I don’t watch TV, just the 9 o’clock news. I do drink martinis and beer, but I’m not sitting at a bar from sunrise to sunset.”

His reputation reached as far as San Diego, where the Police Museum director sought his expertise to verify the purported San Quenten Death Row padlock.

“That lock wasn’t genuine,” Sass said. “It’s a piece of history, just not true history.”

There were several red flags with tying it to the famous California prison. For one, the presence of two matching keys is a rarity for locks that old, he said. And the lack of documentation or serial number indicated trouble.

Now nearing age 84, Sass uses a walker and doesn’t get to auctions or estate sales much anymore. He’s starting to think about what will happen to the museum collection once he’s gone.

He said someone offered him $60,000 for the museum’s collection, but he think’s it’s worth lots more. And another museum “would want it for free.”

“I want someone who has cash,” like Warren Buffett, Sass said with a laugh. “But who the hell am I going to find that has that kind of money?

“If there was someone who really wanted to keep it, that would be like me winning the lottery. But you got to cut to reality.”

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So he’s instructed his daughters about what the items are worth, and offered advice about how to go about selling the collection gradually so as not to flood the market.

But that’s all down the road a ways. For now, he’s still at Elmer & Son from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. most weekdays, advising on the everyday jobs, keeping an eye on the business and greeting museum visitors.

He goes out with his pals at night, meeting them for drinks and dinner at Scrementi’s in Steger or Balagio in Homewood. On one recent visit, he told them his locksmith skills will have an additional benefit.

“My friend Tony is 92,” Sass said. “When he croaks, I said, St. Peter is going to be watching for him at the gates saying ‘you can’t come in.’ I told Tony don’t worry about it. When I croak, I’ll pick the lock and we’ll both go in.

“I can get into anyplace.”

The Locksmith Museum at Elmer & Son is open weekdays and Saturday mornings at 3001 Chicago Road in Steger. It’s free and friendly.

Landmarks is a weekly column by Paul Eisenberg exploring the people, places and things that have left an indelible mark on the Southland. He can be reached at peisenberg@tribpub.com.