Paul Piterski of St. Petersburg has a million ideas. So far, none of them have made it big - but that doesn't stop him.
By SCOTT BARANCIK
Published November 27, 2003
ST. PETERSBURG - Paul Piterski punches the clock at a St. Petersburg company that makes kitchen cabinets and countertops.
By night, he invents.
A children's book. A space-saving refrigerator. A fantasy radio broadcast of the strike-canceled 1994 World Series. A security product called Uncle Tuffy's Interior Window Guard.
None has produced the nest egg Piterski, 63, would need to quit his job designing kitchens. But he continues to brim with ideas the world may or may not need. Among his more promising prototypes is a collapsible step ladder that lifts the user 8 inches and stores under the toekick of a cabinet. The Toedstool recently reached the semifinals of a national contest run by the publishers of Inventors Digest.
"Whether it'll take off or not," he says, "I have no idea."
Like many lifelong inventors, Piterski is both a cynic and a dreamer. The dreams are inherent, born of creativity and greed. The cynicism is learned.
Piterski's seven-game baseball show, featuring Tampa radio gabber Tedd Webb and former major league umpire Rich Garcia, never made it to the airwaves. He blames a busy business partner for not making it a priority.
Wilsonart International paid $8,000 to license a sink Piterski designed. Then, he says, it wanted to get his patent for free. The sink has not been produced.
A stranger lured Piterski into believing a Kuwaiti prince would invest $20-million in several of his inventions. A trip to London and several thousand dollars later, he realized he'd been had.
"It's a tough business," the New Jersey native says, his accent intact. "You're going to get ripped off."
Piterski had a better experience with Like a Fish on a Bike, a children's book he illustrated and self-published with his son, Brahm. Inspired by a feminist bumper sticker Piterski saw - "A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle" - the book tells the story of Sonny, a fish who longs to ride a bike discarded in his pond.
Some of Piterski's ideas spring from his day job. Space limitations led him to design a triple sink, refrigerator and cooktop to fit into corners. He has patented all three.
A home burglary inspired his first patent. Uncle Tuffy's Interior Window Guard replaces the screen of a crank-operated window with a locking grid of steel that looks like French doors. He sold the patent for $3,000 plus some company stock.
Con artists have inventors in their sights, Piterski says. Some try to steal or undermine their patenters. Others, often heard in radio or television ads, prey on dreams, turning false hopes into cash. "If you came in and told them you have this round thing and it rolls and it fits on a car, they'd probably tell you, "Wow, that's a great idea,"' he said. "They'd take on anything."
His advice for inventors is to fill out a "disclosure document" with the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office for any patentable idea. Though it doesn't take the place of a patent application, it provides evidence of the date an invention was conceived, more so than sending a registered letter to oneself.
As for the Toedstool, Piterski has applied for a patent. In the meantime, he's hoping the recent contest will encourage someone to license or buy it.
But he isn't expecting a miracle. "Eighty percent of what people think are patentable are just good ideas," he says.
