Fixing the Victorian sprung door latches

Tired of the hall closet door opening and bopping me at any given opportunity, I took apart and fixed the broken Victorian skeleton key door knob/latch assemblies. Fascinating, and simple contraptions, the brass spring was broken in both the closet and the bathroom doorknob assembly. So I replaced them. Despite being in situ for 88 years, the old locks (which ere recycled from an even older house, judging by the fin de siècle patent date) were surprisingly clean inside. 

I admired that Victorian craftsmanship even if the springs didn’t last more than a hundred years. It was a pleasure to close the closet doors and hear that satisfying click. Added bonus, the bathroom door handle has a chrome turn key, which I discovered the hard way that you have to remove it too before you can remove the doorknob assembly. A how do it work? kind of morning. Something so satisfying about taking apart old technology (hidden under decades of paint layers) and to free it from its paint prison, only to discover it has ornate brass plates, and the bathroom one has chrome-plated brass door plates. How cool is that? 

So bummed that I used the screwdriver and fillet knife to gouge away the paint. Oh well. Learning curve. Now we can close the doors and latch them, and now they won't swing open on a whim. I also swapped out the glass door knobs too. I also shaved the door tops down and waxed them with soap so that they would easily close. Kicking the shit out of the back door to close it is no longer an option with all this rain, the wood has swelled up so much, it sounds like a wrecking crew is at work when I open it. 

The house has shifted quite a bit in the past five years and it's a struggle to get all the doors to open and close. After a big earthquake, the front door wouldn't close, or lock, and our apt manager trimmed so much off the botttom of the door that the mice could sneak in under the front door. So I had to "fix" that too. Now, I take a drill to the lock bolt slot and shave away some of the metal. Someone asked me why I was fixing the locks. Didn’t I live with Neil? I replied, I'm afraid I'm the go-to fix-it (wo)man, the cook, the char lady, the laundress, the gardener, the personal shopper, even the IT person, etc., the dailiness of living is just not Neil’s fortę. Three doors down, three more to go.

link on the inner workings of old door latches and locks.