Front & Center: Picker’s creations show heavy metal in new light

Some careers have memorable “aha” moments.

Cody Rodenbough’s was more like “duh.”

After several years converting industrial artifacts into unique décor items, Rodenbough was visiting his childhood home in Davenport, Washington, when he discovered “one of the most amazing pieces I ever saw” – a 40-drawer bank storage piece, circa 1887, with nickel-plated handles and gold pinstriping.

“My dad was using it for a nuts-and-bolts bin in the garage, and I said, ‘Where’d this come from?’

“He said, ‘It’s been here your whole life.’

“I eventually cleaned up that piece and sold it for $3,000.”

Since launching his Lincoln Build Works a decade ago, Rodenbough has found eager customers all over the United States.

Among his most popular items are light fixtures made from repurposed materials – the most elaborate a $4,000 chandelier bought by a bank.

And despite the obvious “man cave” appeal of his creations, which borrow heavily from the automotive industry, he estimates 40 percent of his clients are women.

During a recent interview, Rodenbough discussed graphic design, drilling holes and farmers with firearms.

S-R: What were your interests growing up?

Rodenbough: Anything sports-related – football, basketball. I wanted to be a professional athlete of some sort, but my 5-7 size didn’t pay off for that.

S-R: What was your first job?

Rodenbough: Mowing lawns. When I was 13, my dad bought me my first car – a 1964 Impala. I gradually paid him back, and we’d work on it together. I still have it in my shop.

S-R: What did you do after high school?

Rodenbough: I initially studied graphic design at Eastern, but I hated sitting behind a computer. I had to be active, so I switched to physical therapy and earned a doctorate in 2010.

S-R: How about Lincoln Build Works?

Rodenbough: I started tinkering while in the physical therapy program. My first project was an end table I gave to my in-laws. They encouraged me to make stuff to sell, and the business took off.

S-R: What inspired its name?

Rodenbough: I’m from Lincoln County, and I love Abraham Lincoln – sort of a secret man crush. He stands for something we don’t have much of today. He was very bold yet quiet, and his reputation will last forever. When I build these pieces, it’s the same thing. They’re subtle but strong. Jump on top of the tables if you want. I’ll guarantee them for a lifetime.

S-R: Did growing up in farm country give you an advantage when searching for industrial artifacts?

Rodenbough: Sure. Once I started appreciating old stuff, I noticed it everywhere. Dad’s got friends all over the place, and he’d arrange for us to poke around guys’ junkyards. We’d start pulling stuff out, and they’d go, “You want that?” Ten years ago, industrial repurposing wasn’t particularly hot.

S-R: What changed?

Rodenbough: (The TV show) “American Pickers” had a huge influence. The difference is they find stuff and resell it, whereas when I find something, I repurpose it and live with it for a while.

S-R: Did “American Pickers” impact how much people ask for their junk?

Rodenbough: It sent prices through the roof. Everyone thinks treadle sewing machines are gold. But there are millions of them. Rusty old buckets are another thing. It’s crazy what people ask for them.

S-R: What do people underestimate the value of?

Rodenbough: Old workbenches. I’ll go into a machine shop in some little town, point to a beat-up old workbench in the corner, and they’ll say, “How about 25 bucks?” I’ll say, “No, but I’ll give you $150, because it’s worth more than that to me.”

S-R: How do you repurpose workbenches?

Rodenbough: I clean them out and sell them to restaurants and bars. They make really good host stands.

S-R: Once friends see your workshop, do they start telling you about treasures they’ve found?

Rodenbough: All the time – particularly old porcelain light fixtures. Those are more filler pieces for me. The majority of what I do is repurpose old cast-iron machinery legs for dining- and conference-room tables.

S-R: How many hours a week do you provide physical therapy?

Rodenbough: Forty.

S-R: And how many hours do you devote to Lincoln Build Works?

Rodenbough: Forty.

S-R: Do any skills employed in physical therapy transfer over?

Rodenbough: Both careers involve working with my hands. But the real crossover is interaction with people. I work at the Spokane Veterans Home, where most of the residents are 60- to 100-year-old guys. They have way more life experience than I’ll ever have, and they’ve seen stuff that sometimes makes them not the most pleasant individuals. When I need to gain their trust so I can help them get better, I’m a salesman. And it’s exactly the same approach when I knock on the door of a person who has an old truck in a field or a barn full of stuff. Almost always they’re 60 to 100 years old, and I only have a small window of time to gain their trust – let ’em know I’m not a creep. So I smile, shake their hand and show appreciation.

S-R: What range of reactions do you get?

Rodenbough: Ninety percent of the time it’s fantastic. But I’ve also had numerous people tell me that if I don’t get off their property, they’ll get their gun.

S-R: What’s a good business tip someone has shared?

Rodenbough: My father-in-law said, “Any offer is a good offer, so don’t get offended if someone offers you less than you want, and don’t be afraid to offer less than someone’s asking.”

S-R: What gives vintage industrial machinery its charm?

Rodenbough: Way back, manufacturers cared as much about how something looked as about how it worked.

S-R: What’s your holy grail of picks?

Rodenbough: That constantly changes as my tastes evolve. Initially, it was a table called a stroke sander, which had pretty legs but also a function – they articulate or do something strange. I found one at Pacific Steel and paid scrap weight for it. But back then I wasn’t buying old gas pumps or signs, which now are big sellers for me. So my holy grail has evolved. Mostly I like unique, and the more pickers there are, the harder it becomes to find unique.

S-R: What do you like most about your business?

Rodenbough: The unhindered creativity. I don’t have anyone telling me what I can and can’t do.

S-R: What do you like least?

Rodenbough: I hate drilling holes.

S-R: What are you most proud of?

Rodenbough: I’m not good at any one thing except my vision. A lot of people who repurpose put “A” and “B” together, and it’s still “A” plus “B” – two things that were never meant to go together. I’m proud I can combine things and they look like a match.

S-R: What has this career taught you about yourself?

Rodenbough: That I wasn’t satisfied as a physical therapist. Without a creative outlet, I’m not complete.

S-R: Financially, could you leave physical therapy behind and do this full time?

Rodenbough: Absolutely. But I’d miss the relationships I have there. Life, to me, is way more about people than about stuff. Everything in my shop has a dollar value. When I do physical therapy, I get the other side.

S-R: Are there misperceptions about your business?

Rodenbough: A lot of people think I make tabletops look distressed or give gas pumps their patina. They ask, “How did you get that look?” I don’t give something its look. Instead, I show people the beauty that was there when I found it – what others miss if they saw the same thing in a barn or at a garage sale.

S-R: Is the Inland Northwest a good place to find salvageable old stuff?

Rodenbough: We’re in a fantastic part of the country for picking. Farming communities are full of treasures, and it’s dry around here. If you find similar stuff around Seattle or Portland, it’s hardly holding together.

S-R: Having done this for a decade, do you worry the region is almost picked clean?

Rodenbough: Not even close. The outlook is fantastic. For one thing, as baby boomers pass on, their collections will become available. And even now I’ll go to a yard sale on Sunday afternoon, find something amazing sitting there for nothing, and wonder, “How are other people not seeing it?”

Writer Michael Guilfoil can be contacted at mguilfoil@comcast.net.