Astoria Characters: The Lock-and-Key Lady | Nancy Ruhling

Astoria Characters: The Lock-and-Key LadyÂ |Â NancyRuhling

In the front window, there's a baby-blue neon sign shaped like a key. The words LICENSEDLOCKSMITH glow in gold along its length.

In case you miss it, there's a banner that screams, for all intents and purposes, that this is the oneand only Admiral Locksmith (keys made while you wait) that's been on Broadway at 37th Street formore than six decades. It's backed up by a two-story-high marquee that looks as though it belongson that other Broadway.

If you still don't get it, there are signs that spell things out for you loud and clear: 24 HOUREMERGENCY SERVICE; EXPERT LOCKSMITH; AUTO KEYS BY NUMBER. SALES * SERVICE *INSTALLATIONS * REPAIRS * SECURITY LOCKS * DOOR CHECKS * CYLINDERS MASTERED *ALL PHASES OF LOCKSMITHING.

Photo by Nancy A. Ruhling

Roz has been at Admiral Locksmith since she was in the cradle.

Other words shout that from folding gates to police and panic locks, Admiral, Astoria's oldestlocksmith, does it all for offices, factories and institutions. It's a visual cacophony, but Roz Kaplan,the owner, doesn't even notice the noise any more.

It's probably because she's been a presence in the shop ever since she was born. Her parents, Estherand Benny Ornstein, opened Admiral in 1952.


Admiral opened in 1952, two years before Roz was born.

"I don't know why they chose the name," she says. "They may have wanted an 'A' word to be in thefront of the phone book listings."

When Roz came into this world two years later, her mother set up her and her baby carriage andcrib behind the counter of the shoebox shop.

"I've always loved being here," she says. "People got to know us, and my sister and I made friends inthe neighborhood and played around the corner. We went to P.S. 6 up the block."


Roz doesn't let her cane slow her down.

Roz, a short woman with a high hairdo and bright blue eyes, started working weekends at Admiralwhen she was in high school. In addition to making keys, she kept the books.

After a year at Queensborough Community College, Roz got married and her husband, Bob, cameinto the business. While he was keying into the principles of locksmithing, she was working as asecretary for Colgate Palmolive. Eventually, they settled in Hollis Hills, Queens.


Roz mans the shop all by herself now.

There are many families that can't and won't work together, but Bob, Benny and Esther clicked likethe tumblers in a safe's combination.

"We were all very close," Roz says.

When her parents decided to retire in 1985, Bob took over the shop. The couple had two young sons,so the time was right for Roz to join him.

"I just worked a few hours a day helping him out," she says.

So it went until 1999 when Bob took ill.


Roz never tires of cutting keys.

"I had to spend all my time going to the doctor and hospital," Roz says.

Benny and Esther filled in. After Bob's death, in 2001, "it was the three of us again," Roz says.


Customers and the TV keep Roz company.

When Esther died seven years ago, Benny and Roz kept Admiral going, and when he passed awaythree years ago, Roz became a solo act.

Roz likes the fact that Admiral hasn't changed much since she made her first key; that's was s-o-olong ago that she can't even remember whether it was hard to learn. She just knows that she stillgets a thrill every time she cuts a new one.


The Greek flag was given to her father by a customer.

The linoleum floor is cratered with cracks. Her father's wooden workbench is scarred with toolmarks; Roz doesn't use it. She sits where she's always sat -- in the back with the portable black-an--white TV blaring to blast away her newfound loneliness.

"Even though it's my store now, I still think of it as my parents' store," she says. "Even today I canstill feel their presence, and people still ask me where the old man is."

When they do, she points to the color photo on the front counter.


People still ask about her parents, Esther and Bennie Ornstein.

Roz has hired guys to do the outside jobs -- people who lock themselves out always call in a panic atall times of the day and night -- and she does the in-shop work.

Some two decades ago, she got multiple sclerosis; that's why she wears heavy black orthopedicshoes and walks with a cane. So efficient and hard-working is she that most people, even theneighboring shopkeepers she counts as friends, don't know the full debilitating effects of her illness.


The old linoleum floor shows its age.

"Sometimes, it's hard to get up and come here," she says. "But I want to keep the store going."

Roz sees running the store as a way to honor her parents. Besides which, she really likes doing it.

"People are very friendly," she says. "Customers bring me coffee, and it's always nice when theyremember my parents and how the shop used to be."


Roz isn't ready to give up the shop yet.

Roz doesn't get much chance to take time off, and that's OK by her. She's at Admiral six days aweek. She does remember closing for four days to go to a wedding in Oregon, but that was a longtime ago.

"I know I can't do this forever," she says. "I take it one day at a time, and I push myself. SometimesI'm surprised I have the strength to do this."

She'd be pleased if Admiral remains a locksmith after she's cut her final key, but she's not holdingout much hope. Her sons have other interests and have no intention of taking over the business.


She'll keep coming in until she can't.

At 9 on the button, when the shop officially opens, Roz puts on her uniform. The cherry-red satinbowling jacket with the Admiral name on it matches her glossy lipstick.

The first call of the day comes in.

"You're locked out of your house? I'll send someone tumblers lock right over."

Nancy A. Ruhling may be reached at [email protected].

Copyright 2013 by Nancy A. Ruhling

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Astoria Characters: The Lock-and-Key Lady | Nancy Ruhling