When the man with the red mustache started down the stairs his wife ran to the door and called him back.
“Donald,” she said, “I want you to go into a hardware store to-day and get a saw. Don’t forget it, please. We need one badly.”
Being an accommodating person, the man with the red mustache said he’d get it. He chose the luncheon hour as the most opportune time for making his simple purchase. He was in a good humor and he smiled blandly when he went bustling into the store and said: “I want a saw, please.”
The clerk who had come forward to wait on him had a merry twinkle in his eye and the twinkle overflowed at the question and spread all over his face in dimples.
“What kind of a saw?” he asked.
The prospective purchaser began to perceive what an intricate business the buying of a saw really is.
“Why,” said he, “I don’t know. Just a saw. Any kind will do, I suppose.”
The clerk sighed. “If you only knew what you want to use it for, perhaps I could advise you,” he suggested. (more…)
When a young man begins to think of making his fortune, his first notion usually is to go away from home to some very distant place. At present, the favorite spot is Colorado; awhile ago it was California; and old men remember when Buffalo was about as far west as the most enterprising person thought of venturing.
It is not always a foolish thing to go out into the world far beyond the parent nest, as the young birds do in midsummer. But I can tell you, boys, from actual inquiry, that a great number of the most important and famous business men of the United States struck down roots where they were first planted, and where no one supposed there was room or chance for any large thing to grow.
I will tell you a story of one of these men, as I heard it from his own lips some time ago, in a beautiful village where I lectured. He was an old man then; and a curious thing about him was that, although he was too deaf to hear one word of a public address, even of the loudest speaker, he not only attended church every Sunday, but was rarely absent when a lecture was delivered.
While I was performing on that occasion, I saw him sitting just in front of the platform, sleeping the sleep of the just till the last word was uttered. Upon being introduced to this old gentleman in his office, and learning that his business was to make hammers, I was at a loss for a subject of conversation, as it never occurred to me that there was anything to be said about hammers.
I have generally possessed a hammer, and frequently inflicted damage on my fingers therewith, but I had supposed that a hammer was simply a hammer, and that hammers were very much alike. At last I said,—
“And here you make hammers for mankind, Mr. Maydole?”
You may have noticed the name of David Maydole upon hammers. He is the man.
“Yes,” said he, “I have made hammers here for twenty-eight years.”
“Well, then,” said I, shouting in his best ear, ” by this time you ought to be able to make a pretty good hammer.”
“No, I can’t,” was his reply. “I can’t make a pretty good hammer. I make the best hammer that’s made.” That was strong language. I thought, at first, he meant it as a joke; but I soon found it was no joke at all. (more…)
It does not follow that because most wood-work used about a building may be obtained at the mill, machine made, that the carpenter should not equip himself with the knowledge necessary to make by hand every piece of wood-work required to complete a building. There is a sameness about millwork that always impresses itself unfavorably on the artistic sense, and this quality is so well understood in high quarters, that many very rich men will not permit finished machine made work to be introduced in their residence.
While it may be true that machine made work is, in many cases, superior to hand-made work, yet it is characterless and inartistic, as it is the machine, not the workman, that leaves its impression on the finished product, and each piece is a facsimile of each other piece. For utilitarian purposes machine made work occupies a high rank, as it is generally well made, solidly put together, and costs much less than hand-made work, qualities that recommend it for general use.
By hand-made work I do not mean work that is sawn from the rough by hand, or manipulated at every stage by brute force with saw and plane. The circular saw, the planer, the mortiser and tenoner may and should be employed in preparing material for hand work, thus relieving the workman of the present from the drudgery that his forefathers were forced to undergo. (more…)
My father-in-law was by trade a sawyer, and a good workman; in fact, Thomas Leaf had the reputation of being the best veneer-sawyer in that part of the country. I, being destitute of employment, and no prospect of obtaining any, except by leaving England, which I was unwilling to do, Mr. Leaf undertook to teach me the art of mahogany and veneer sawing.
From the commencement of that business I gave promise of success, and it was not the least consoling to know, that at length I had found a trade wherein I could become respectable, and at least, something more than mediocre. It was soon my father’s boast, that with his “ big lad”—for I was too boy-like to pass for a man—with his lad “he could turn more veneers out of an inch plank than any other pair of craftsmen in the town.”
Thomas was an original in his way ; he had superior qualities as a workman, and seldom forgot to talk about them. He was generally upon good terms with himself; he had an unflinching independence of action, and a deep sense of honour and integrity regulated all his dealings. In a pecuniary point of view, my new trade was not so remunerative as it had been before the invention of the circular saw. (more…)
Benjamin Franklin writing about his time spent working at Watt’s Printing House in London, about the year 1725.
At my first admission into the printing-house I took to working at press, imagining I felt a want of the bodily exercise I had been used to in America, where presswork is mixed with the composing. I drank only water; the other workmen, near fifty in number, were great drinkers of beer. On occasion, I carried up and down stairs a large form of types in each hand, when others carried but one in both hands; they wondered to see, from this and several instances, that the Water American, as they called me, was stronger than themselves who drank strong beer!
We had an alehouse-boy, who attended always in the house to supply the workmen. My companion at the press drank every day a pint before breakfast, a pint at breakfast with his bread and cheese, a pint between breakfast and dinner, a pint at dinner; a pint in the afternoon about six o’clock, and another when he had done his day’s work. I thought it a detestable custom; but it was necessary, he supposed, to drink strong beer, that he might be strong to labour.
When the man with the red mustache started down the stairs his wife ran to the door and called him back.
