Archives: The Wacky World of Inventor Benjamin Skora

The wacky world of inventor Benjamin Skora
July 19, 2002 10:00
By Jeff Meredith

CHICAGO - In Palos Hills, Illinois, the all-electronic
home of an eccentric inventor has charmed visitors for
over three decades. With a remote control Ferrari
parked in the driveway, a 6'4" robot named Arok
serving drinks, a motorized couch, and a toilet which
doubles as an unassuming potted plant, Benjamin Skora,
75, has delivered enough quirks to make his residence
the basis for a movie.

Chris Smith, the acclaimed director of the 1999
documentary "American Movie," has profiled Skora for
his latest project, "Home Movie." A look at five
unusual homes across the US, ranging from a missile
silo home in Topeka, Kansas to a tree house in a
remote Hawaii rain forest, the independent film may be
at its finest as it navigates Skora's novelty
dwelling.

Just a warning if you plan on visiting Skora: call in
advance. As one approaches the front door, a message
sounds: "If you enter these premises without
permission, you do so at your own risk. The alarm
system has an electronically controlled firearm that
can seek and destroy. Have a nice day."

No need to worry, though. Skora frequently gives tours
of his residence and his home is an annual delight for
Trick or Treaters, who are a fun target for his
trickery. The firearm message truly comes in handy in
scaring away deer and Jehovah's Witnesses, says Skora.


Past the front door security system, guests are
ushered through a cylindrical hallway where a
Roswell-modeled alien greets them. An electronic iris
door, about six feet in diameter, peels open for those
wishing to enter the living room.

Using a touchtone phone from anywhere in the world
(fun fact: Skora actually invented a cordless phone
three years before one ever hit the market), Skora can
operate a number of gadgets inside. He can dial to
open his blinds or have a bar pop out from his wall. A
favorite pastime remains taking a spin in his
motorized easy chair, which can zoom around the room
thanks to handy controls on the arm rests.

When he's hosting a party, Skora utilizes a rotating
floor panel to provide surprise entertainment - a band
can set up on his porch, unseen, and then be
transported into the living room. Skora has plenty of
musicians to draw from too, thanks to an earlier
career managing a recording company.

That's but one piece of the past for a man whose
experiences could easily fill several books. And
perhaps the most amazing part is that Skora is
completely self-taught, everything in his home has
been his own undertaking.

A product of academia Skora is not. In 1943, he
dropped out of high school at the age of 16 to enlist
in the Navy and fight in World War II. He lived near
Midway Airport as a youngster and returned home after
the war, but not without some scars.

"All the guys were much older than me. You know how
I'm a kid and I had to be a man ... I'm down in the
engine room and all this [expletive] is going on. I
ended up with an ulcer and it was killing me when I
got out [of the service]," says Skora. "So I went to
all kinds of doctors, nothing happened. Nothing was
helping."

Skora had met a fellow serviceman in the Navy who
specialized in hypnosis and took to the technique to
restore his health. He signed up for a course, and
told his instructor he wanted to be hypnotized to get
rid of his ulcer. "In two sessions, that son of a gun
went away," says Skora. "I started doing stage
hypnosis, but that's not where it belongs. I opened a
couple offices and now I just do it over here [in my
home]."

An inventor who moonlights as a hypnotist? Skora
certainly revels in the powers of the mind.

"There are subjects that are good and some are
mediocre. But if you get a real good subject and get
them really in a deep trance, when you touch them with
your finger and say it's a red hot poker they'll
actually get a blister there," says Skora. "I've been
doing [hypnosis] for 50 years. I just wish I had more
time, I want to do everything. I get up at five in the
morning and go to bed at 10."

Skora has lived at his current residence for over 30
years and says that most of the features haven't
changed much. He built an addition on a 20 by 40 foot
home, more than doubling it, and his property spans
nearly an acre. But he's not independently wealthy as
few of his ideas ever produce financial rewards.

"I can't convince any of my neighbors that I don't
have any money. They think I'm a millionaire because
I've got all this, but I built it myself - cars and
all this stuff. It took a lot of work," Skora
explains.

When Skora's business sense kicks in, it's clouded
with self-doubt. Looking at his motorized easy chair,
he says, "I thought it would be really cool to make
executive chairs like that and put everything on it,
the computer, cordless phone, horns, lights - make it
really cool. I bet you could get a big piece of change
for that. But see I'm not a business person and I
don't pursue that."

Skora once dreamed of selling manikin lamps, modeled
after female movie stars in their prime. He has one in
his living room that serves as a prototype and
jokingly refers to her as "the only one I can turn on
anymore."

There's never a shortage of new ideas, it's just a
matter of being able to fund them. Skora's robot Arok
(Skora spelled backwards without an "S") was built
around the debut of Star Wars (1977) and became
somewhat of an icon in the late 70s and early 80s
after appearances on television and in several
national magazines. Skora hopes that the robot can
again be a hit on the event circuit so that he can
stop worrying about finances.

"He does some unique stuff. At a ribbon cutting
ceremony, he cuts the ribbon with a laser gun," says
Skora. "He has a camera to take pictures of people. We
put on a pretty nice show."

Skora never got into the online age and he doesn't
fashion himself a programmer. Arok, on the other hand,
is perfect for him, as he is easily managed with a
radio control.

"With the radio control, it's so personalized because
it's like an extension of yourself," says Skora.

Gazing over Arok, one might be startled to hear the
robot say "What the hell are you looking at?' but
that's Benjamin Skora in a nutshell - always looking
to expand his reach and control, channeling himself
through his inventions. His Ferrari, purchased in 1984
for $30,000, can be operated within a 2-mile radius,
allowing for the possibility of driverless travel and
even more memorable antics. But Skora doesn't trust
his vision enough anymore to operate the vehicle out
of immediate sight.

"I was going to put cameras in it, but when you get to
my age, depth perception isn't good," says Skora. "I
hit my sister's car. She'll never forgive me for that.
I was trying to park it in front of the house when we
lived in Chicago and she had her car parked there and
it was a little misjudgment [on my part] ... I had
body shops at that time, fixed it for her."

Skora's sister now lives in Arizona and doesn't return
to the Midwest to visit. Most women, however, would
take to liking Skora. He has two unique toilets to
avoid unnecessary aggravation usually caused by
inconsiderate men. One carries the voice message of
"Please put seat down when finished, thank you for
your cooperation." Another doubles as a potted plant.
With the push of a button, the plant lifts to reveal a
standard potty. There are even floor vents to prevent
any odor.

There are always new ideas to be implemented.
Recently, Skora's taken to working on a red carpet
that will roll out to meet new arrivals. And just from
how he is feeling at 75, that's a solid, practical
investment in the future.

"The greatest thing is I've got my health. I still get
out there, rollerblade and all that stuff. I feel good
all the time," says Skora. "I think that's most
important. If you don't have your health, you don't
have anything."
=========================
August 2002

Sidebar: Smith's Home Movie
By Jeff Meredith

"Where does he find these people?" is a typical
reaction to the work of filmmaker Chris Smith, known
for his unusual characters. Smith first attracted
serious attention from audiences with "American
Movie," a documentary about an eclectic Wisconsin
filmmaker, Mark Borchardt, looking to make a low
budget horror film.

And now Smith features a series of strange characters
in "Home Movie," his portrait of five bizarre
residences throughout the United States and their
inhabitants: a couple in California whose home
entirely caters to their cats; a man who lives on a
houseboat in Louisiana and sells alligator
paraphernalia for a living; a family in Topeka, Kansas
that lives out of an abandoned missile silo; a woman
who has built a tree house in a remote area of Hawaii,
generating hydroelectric power with a nearby
waterfall; inventor Benjamin Skora, who has an
all-electronic home in Palos Hills, Illinois.

Smith was first commissioned to direct Home Movie two
years ago for Homestore.com (the embattled real estate
site recently revealed that it overstated its online
advertising). Homestore.com intended to use some of
Smith's footage for commercials, but Smith stated in a
recent interview that he doesn't believe the
commercials ever ran.

Smith's time with Benjamin Skora could indeed be the
highlight of "Home Movie." Skora himself is rather
eccentric, but the scenes at his home are
laugh-out-loud funny thanks to a Skora groupie, 30-ish
wannabe actress Darlene Satrinano.

Already, the online world is proving cruel to
Satrinano. One viewer notes online, "This guy also has
a young woman friend whom he allows to hang out as
Smith [is filming]. She wants to be an actress or a
psychic but will probably remain a truck stop
waitress."

Skora recalls his first meeting with Satrinano a year
and a half ago, adding, "She's kind of goofy, but
she's alright." Satrinano had been urging a friend to
bring her to Skora's place, her ulterior motive being
that she wanted Skora to hypnotize her so that she
could lose some weight.

"She says, 'I'd like to lose some weight because the
last kid I had, I put on weight and I can't get rid of
it.' But she says, 'I already had a boob job.' I say,
'Oh yeah, that's nice.' She says, 'Yes, how do you
like them?' [lifting up her shirt]," recalls Skora.
"We're right in the middle of the driveway and I've
got these neighbors jogging back and forth. Whoah!"

Satrinano recently married and moved to Indiana so
Skora doesn't see her as often. We can only hope the
next visit is less revealing.