We sure have a lot of sundry/miscellaneous/mixed/jumble shelves. Could be worse; at least we don’t shelve books by color. (We do, however, shelve a few by size; we’ll visit that lower-right corner soon).
On the far left of this bay is most of our “Mortise & Tenon Collection,” both some issues of the magazine and the two books M&T has published (between us, we have all the issues, just FYI). When Joshua Klein first mentioned to us he was thinking of starting a magazine both Chris and I independently told him not to do it, then shared with him everything we could think of about doing it right. Good thing he didn’t listen to us (about not doing it; he’s certainly doing it right).
And then comes the jumble. We have two copies of Edward F. Worst’s “Coping Saw Work” (First published in 1927 by Bruce Publishing). This book is, according to Chris, a “cool representation of the humidor or turned pens or epoxy river table of the early 20th century.” I other words, it’s a slice of a small point in history when coping saws were the hottest thing. And I gotta say – the Minecraft-looking animal patterns are pretty cute.
But if it’s toys you’re looking for, the compilation book “Sunset Woodworking Projects 1” (Lane Publishing, 1987 – first published in 1975) is chock-full of pre-computer-chip offerings for the little ones and simple projects for around the house. Chris has it not for the contents so much as for the layout – it is easily identifiable as of a certain period in book design history, which is always useful when thinking about how things should/could/shouldn’t look.
Next to that is Yannick Chastang’s “French Marquetry Furniture: Paintings in Wood” (Wallace Collection, 2001). Chris met Chastang in London (he thinks it was London) and was impressed with a talk he gave, so of course he bought the book. In between that and another marquetry book is a “hidden” copy of “Grandpa’s Workshop” (I think it’s our last copy, and we don’t want it at easy grabbing level). The other marquetry book is Richard Mühlberger’s “American Folk Marquetry” (Museum of American Folk Art, 1998); it reminds us of a lot of Kentucky furniture (for which both Chris and I have a great fondness).
Michael Dunbar’s “Federal Furniture” (Taunton, 1986) is an ex-library copy and was too good a buy to pass up (and though neither of us are huge fans of the style, it does deserve representation in any woodworking library). Then we’ve a gifted copy of “Strait’s Chinese Furniture: A Collector’s Guide,” by Ho Wing Meng (Times Media, 1994).
Then we’ve Graham Blackburn‘s “Traditional Woodworking Hand Tools” (Lyons, 1998) and “Traditional Woodworking Techniques” (re-published by Blackburn Books in 1994). These are “must-haves” for the hand tool woodworker; Graham was writing about hand tools and teaching their use when just about no one else was. (An aside: Graham is among the nicest guys I’ve met in woodworking, and is also an excellent musician and dancer!)
Thomas Day: Master Craftsman and Free Man of Color,” by Patricia Phillips Marhsall and Jo Ramsay Leimenstoll (North Carolina Museum of History/UNC Press, 2010) is a landmark book. It’s the first significant book on a Black furniture maker and his contributions to the craft, the first to acknowledge that Black people didn’t historically just work in menial positions in the United States, but were skilled tradespeople with important jobs.
From there, we move into the tool section of our collection (for the most part) – and it continues on several other shelves still to be covered. First up is a trio of books edited by Jane and Mark Rees: “Christopher Gabriel and the Tool Trade in 18th Century London” (Astragal, 1998) and both editions of “The Tool Chest of Benjamin Seaton” (Tools and Trades History Society 1994 and 2012).
Then we have “The Tools that Built America,” by Alex W. Bealer (Bonanza, 1976). “Someone told me I had to have it and gave it to me,” says Chris. “I flipped through it and was like, meh.” (But not so “meh” that we’ve passed it on to someone else, yet.) Alongside it is “The American Patented Brace, 1829-1924: An Illustrated Directory of Patents,” by Ronald W. Pearson, D.O. (Astragal, 1994) and “The Rule Book: Measuring for the Trades” by Jane Rees and Mark Rees (Astragal 2010). I dipped into these books that are ostensibly for collectors quite a lot when I was editor of The Chronicle, Chris loves them not only for the history of toolmaking, but because “they show things that are missing from the written record – it’s written in tools, not in words.” And that holds true for the rest of the tool-related tomes in this bay.
Tucked into those is Robert Wearing‘s “Hand Tools for Woodworkers” (Sterling, 1996). That should probably be with Wearing’s other books. Then it’s “Source Book for Rule Collectors,” by Philip E. Stanley (Astragal, 2003), “The Art of Fine Tools” (Taunton, 2000) and “Tools Rare and Ingenious (Taunton, 2004), both by Sandor Nagyszalanczy. If you like nice-looking tools, these are must-haves. Peter C. Welsh’s thin but invaluable “Woodworking Tools 1600-1900” (Smithsonian, 1966) is a must for the tool-history lover.
David R. Russell’s “Antique Woodworking Tools” (Conti, 2010) documents an insanely good collection (in a well-made wrapping), and serves as inspiration for our own tool and book making. It’s just gorgeous to look at. “A Dictionary of American Hand Tools,” By Alvin Sellens (Sellens, 1990) is among our many tool dictionaries – books that we as teachers and toolmakers count as must-haves. The same holds true for Aldren A. Watson’s “Hand Tools: Their Ways and Workings” – but with a grain of salt, as he recommends everyone have a jack rabbit plane. Huh. But he’s masterful illustrator; the drawings are an excellent look at the way tools go together. “Codes & Symbols of European Tools,” by Laurent Adamowicz was too intriguing to pass up. “I’m always interested in tools, and that was an aspect that I’ve never seen covered. But it didn’t quite live up to the title,” says Chris.
And finally, we have the German and French editions of several of our books, and one of Chris’s earlier books for Popular Woodworking. (The right side of this bay was covered in an earlier installment.)
– Fitz
This is the eighth post in the Covington Mechanical Library tour. To see the earlier ones, click on “Categories” on the right rail, and drop down to “Mechanical Library.” Or click here.
One of our two portable “Vortex Cone” Jet collectors. These are due for a good cleaning on the first nice spring day. That means taking them apart and sucking out the filter folds with a smaller vacuum. Not my favorite job.
From time to time, we get asked about our “professional setup” for dust collection. It’s not what you might expect from a (semi) professional shop…or maybe it is exactly what you expect, given that we’re known for hand-tool stuff.
But we do use machinery – particularly for stock prep and rough cuts. Plus, there’s a fair amount of sanding in making stick chairs. Our machine shop (aka “The Electric Horse Garage“) is, however, quite small; there’s no room for 6”-diameter piping or a large cyclone. Instead, we have two Jet Vortex dust collectors for the large machinery. One is hooked up to the jointer and planer, with manual gates that we open/close to direct the suction to the machine in use. The other is for the table saw. I don’t know about Chris, but before I turn on any of these three machines, I first poke the bag to make sure the dust level isn’t too high. Trying to birth an overfull garbage bag full of fine dust between the uprights is a bear, especially on the table saw (that dust is heavy!).
An off-the-shelf solution (we had no room for another large portable unit).
For the spindle and belt/circular sander, we have a small Ridgid unit hanging on the wall (which reminds me – I’d best check it given last week’s chair class; the collection bag doesn’t hold much).
We are very bad about checking the collection bag in this one. My one New Year’s resolution is to never again have to pry out impacted dust and shavings. At least not in front of anyone next time.
On handheld machines such as the random orbit sanders and the Domino Joiner, we hook up Festool dust collectors (I bring mine in from home during classes so that we can set up two stations). Key is the addition of a 98-cent hose clamp to keep the collar from slipping off the machine’s dust port. (You can just see it in the image above.)
In the bench room, the only stationary(ish) machines we have are two bands saws. One, Chris’s venerable Delta/Rockwell, predates dust collection ports, but on the new Jet band saw we hook up the shop vacuum if we’re making anything more than a short, quick cut. Might as well go through the teensy bit of trouble of hauling out the vacuum, given that we use that same vacuum to clean up the machine and floor after using the band saw. Every time.
For larger stuff, let it never be said you can’t find a broom around here. We have plenty – all from Berea College in central Kentucky.
– Fitz
P.S. This is Chris, chiming in. This year we are going to add an electrostatic air scrubber to our machine room. We are serious about keeping the dust down. Also, the only sanding on the stick chairs is on the saddle. I sand about 5 minutes per chair. Beginners have to sand more. So it can seem like a lot when six beginners build chairs.
Typically when we announce an open house I get three or four complaints along the lines of “why didn’t you let us know sooner.” So for those three or four people:
The 2023 Summer Open House at the Lost Art Press storefront is on July 29. We’ll open the doors at 10 a.m. and lock them behind you at 5 p.m. We will probably have a special gift, guest demonstrations, etc. But I don’t know anything more than the date at this point. (And we will of course let you know more when we figure it out.)
Fig 4.1 Learn to chop mortises accurately and efficiently and you’ll be able to build most anything. Joint stools will give you lots of practice – there are 16 joints in each one.
The following is excerpted from Chapter 4 of “Make a Joint Stool from a Tree,” by Jennie Alexander and Peter Follansbee.
Joint stools are a fascinating piece of British and early American furniture. Made from riven – not sawn – oak, their legs are typically turned and angled. The aprons and stretchers are joined to the legs using drawbored mortise-and-tenon joints, no glue. And the seat is pegged to the frame below. Because of these characteristics, the stools are an excellent introduction to the following skills.
• Selecting the right tools: Many of the tools of the 17th century are similar to modern hand tools – you just need fewer of them. “Make a Joint Stool from a Tree” introduces you to the very basic kit you need to begin.
• Processing green oak: Split an oak using simple tools, rive the bolts into usable stock and dry it to a workable moisture content.
• Joinery and mouldings: Learn to cut mortises and tenons by hand, including the tricks to ensure a tight fit at the shoulder of the joint. Make mouldings using shop-made scratch stocks – no moulding planes required.
• Turning: Though some joint stools were decorated with simple chamfers and chisel-cut details, many were turned. Learn the handful of tools and moves you need to turn period-appropriate details.
• Drawboring: Joint stools are surprisingly durable articles of furniture. Why? The drawbored mortise-and-tenon joint. This mechanical joint is rarely used in contemporary furniture. Alexander and Follansbee lift the veil on this technique and demonstrate the steps to ensure your joint stool will last 400 years or so.
• Finishing: Many joint stools were finished originally with paint. You can make your own using pigments and linseed oil. The right finish adds a translucent glow that no gallon of latex can ever provide.
Now we can return to the framing parts, starting with the stiles. The first step is to lay out the mortises. We’ll outline these steps one at a time because it can get confusing. We will call the mortises for the front and rear rails “straight” mortises, those for the canted ends of the stool we will call “angled” mortises.
Stack the four stiles together, with their beveled inside corners touching, and with radial faces up.
These radial faces become the “front” and “back” faces of the stool. Take one stile, and work on its radial face.
Fig. 4.2 This story stick is another example of something for which we lack period evidence; but its effectiveness can’t be beat. In addition to serving as the principal layout reference, it functions as a wooden notebook. If you make a number of different stool patterns, mark them with the date.
To lay out the stiles’ square blocks and the straight mortises, it’s easier to use what a carpenter now calls a “story stick” that is marked with the stiles’ details, rather than working from paper drawings or patterns. This shop-made stick records the markings that are then transferred to the stile. We have made these sticks to record different stools. The locations and heights of the squared blocks, turning details and positions of mortises can all be taken from the stick to the stile. It is best to mark ONE stile from the stick, then the other three stiles from that first stile.
Make sure the foot of the stile is trimmed square. Line up the foot of the story stick and the feet of the stile. With an awl, mark the limits of the square blocks and scribe these marks across all four faces of the stile, with one exception – the top of the stile is marked only on the radial face and the corresponding inside tangential face (where the straight apron mortise is located).
Now line the stick up on the inside face and mark the locations of the mortises on this tangential face.
Fig. 4.3 Prick the points with the awl, then scribe them with the square and awl. Sharpen the awl with a file from time to time. Careful, it can draw blood when it’s sharp.
One thing to keep in mind is that the top of the apron mortise is not at the same height as the top of the stile. This mortise drops down about 3/4″ from the stile’s top end. Eyeball the top of the apron mortise and scribe it with the awl and square.
The next step is to mark the mortises with the mortise gauge. To set the gauge, make a mark with your chisel’s edge perpendicular to, but right against the stile’s arris. Next, move over one chisel width and bear down hard enough to make a mark in the wood. Then set the pins of your mortise gauge according to the location of this second chisel mark. The result is a mortise that is set in from the face of the stock the thickness of the chisel. Our mortises are usually 5/16″, set in from the face 5/16″. This spacing is based on studies of period work; 5/16″ is almost a standard from what we have seen.
Fig. 4.4 (left) This is a technique that if we heard it somewhere, we have forgotten where. It works very well. No ruler, no fiddling with the gauge up against the chisel’s sharp edge. Mark the timber with the chisel, then put the chisel down. Very safe and simple. Fig. 4.5 (right) Now move the chisel over one chisel-width. And lean on it. Now your setting is marked on the timber, and you just need to set the mortise gauge according to the chisel marks.
Fig. 4.6 Using both hands on a marking or mortise gauge might seem like overkill, but the oak is very fibrous, and when it’s green it can catch the gauge’s pins. The result can be irregular and it’s hard to re-mark a line once it goes astray. Extend the marking lines beyond the top and bottom of the mortise; this way you can check the spacing of the joint if you find you need to reset your gauge – if, for instance, it falls on the floor.
The Angled Mortises To find the location for the angled side mortises, use an adjustable bevel set to the desired flare angle. A slope of 1:6 is what we have used on several stools. Our studies of 17th-century stools show flare angles right around that figure, some less, none more. To set the bevel, set a straightedge on a framing square, positioning it at 1″ on one leg, and 6″ on the other. Then adjust the bevel to this angle and lock its nut to secure the setting. You can then scribe this angle on a piece of wood, or even scribe it on the wall. Like the adjustable gauges, the bevel can lose its setting if bumped. Having the angle scribed somewhere makes it easy to reset it. Alexander turned an adjustable bevel into a fixed one by threading a bolt through its stock and blade.
To lay out the side mortises, you must carry the line that designates the top of the stool from the front radial face across the side tangential face. Set the bevel with its handle on the front face of the stile. Line it up with the marked top of the stool, with its angled blade pointing upwards on the other outside face of that stile. Scribe this line with the awl.
Fig. 4.7 (left) Here is an adjustable bevel, and the modified one Alexander turned into a fixed bevel. If you are using one flare angle regularly, this is the way to go. It’s easy enough to come up with an extra adjustable bevel. Fig. 4.8 (right) Marking this angle is the same as any layout; a couple light passes will carefully scribe a line on the stile. We have often joked that this step requires two consecutive thoughts. It might be three.
Then use a square to carry this line across the other inside face. So the sequence is square, bevel, square. Remember that it’s best to carry the lines across the outside faces; the inside faces are unreliable. This layout is both simple and complicated at the same time. Sometimes it helps to stand the stile up and tilt it as it will be in the finished stool. Then you can easily visualize where the angled mortises are and how they rise up higher than the straight mortises.
You can repeat this process for the top edge of the stretchers’ mortises. Or you can mark this from the story stick, this time lining up the top of the stool with the scribed line that designates the top of the side apron.
Now mark the mortises’ height and width on these faces of the stile. After you mark out two stiles, lay them side by side and check that they agree. A front or rear pair should have their radial faces matching, with the straight mortises aiming at each other, and the side, angled mortises rising up toward the top of the stool.
Mortising Once you have struck the layout of the mortises, secure the stile on the benchtop near its edge. Shove one end of the stile against the bench hook then secure the stile with the holdfast.
Fig. 4.9 (left) This is the first pair of blows with the mortise chisel. Note the chisel’s bevel is just about plumb. Fig. 4.10 (right) Here, the stile is held in place by a holdfast, with a scrap of pine between the holdfast’s “pad” and the stile. This prevents bruising the stock.
Begin mortising by holding the mortise chisel with the handle tilted away from you, leaving its bevel just about plumb. Position the first cuts with the mortise chisel about in the center of the mortise’s length. A blow from the wooden mallet drives the chisel downward. Turn the chisel around, and make another chop aimed at the first. The result is a V-shaped opening at the middle of the mortise’s length. Alternate the chisel’s position in this way, enlarging the V-shaped cut; the goal is to reach the depth at the center of the mortise as quickly as possible. Then the rest of the work is just cutting down the end grain to lengthen the mortise. As you get to the ends of the mortise, bring the chisel upright so that its back surface is perpendicular to the stile’s surface.
Fig. 4.11 (left) Coming at the mortise first this way, then that way requires some shift in posture. Experiment with different methods to see what feels best. The idea is to get the mortise chopped quickly and easily. Fig. 4.12 (right) The amount of work that is split between hand pressure and mallet-driven will vary. Moisture content plays a role in this; drier stock is less forgiving with hand pressure. But either way, oak will convince you to use your whole body.
There are a few stances and postures we use that increase the efficiency in mortising. For most of the work the chisel is driven with a mallet, but sometimes hand pressure is useful as well. When using hand pressure, it helps if you rise onto the balls of your feet and come down with your whole body to drive the chisel. Lean on the top of the chisel handle with the front of your shoulder to help drive the tool into the wood. Then you can pry the waste up from the bottom of the mortise. In fig. 4.12, the left hand is used to position the chisel, and the right hand and upper body are driving the tool into the wood.
It is critical to keep the mortise chisel parallel to the face of the stile. You can sight against a square positioned on the benchtop. Drive the chisel into the mortise, then step back and sight it against the blade of the square. With practice you will learn to sight this against the face of the stile, and not need the square.
Fig. 4.13 A nice stout mortise chisel is essential when prying the material out of the mortise.
The moisture content of the oak is important at this stage; usually it’s fairly wet inside when you chop these joints. The stock in the photos was planed wet from the log less than a month before cutting these joints. The straight-grained nature of the riven stock makes mortising easier than ever. The same principles that apply to splitting apply here as well. In effect the chisel is entering the wood directly on either the radial or tangential plane.
Chop the mortise to a depth of about 1-1/2″. It’s easiest to get that depth at the middle of the mortise; at the ends it requires a little more attention. There is a tendency to pry against the end grain of the mortise – this will bruise and deform the wood there. Stay away from the final ends of the mortise at first, that way you can pry against the end grain that will end up as waste. Finish up by taking cuts straight down the end grain with the back of the chisel perpendicular to the stile.
Fig. 4.14 (top) Here, the mortise’s bottom is ragged, but it doesn’t need to be much cleaner than this. The tenon will never reach that far. Fig. 4.15 (bottom) This photo and the previous one were shot between a piece of oak and a pane of plate glass. This allows a cross-section view of a chisel cutting a mortise. This experiment was quite helpful in understanding what goes on during the mortising process. Thanks to Roy Underhill for teaching us this technique.
To get the last bits out at the bottom of the mortise’s ends, chop straight down into the ends, then turn the chisel around, and with the bevel down, drive the chisel into the midst of the mortise, and come toward the ends. Now bring up the chip on the back of the chisel.
We’re closing out our reprint of the “Stanley Tools Catalogue No. 34,” and are selling remaining copies for $10 each, simply to free up space on the warehouse shelves. Every purchase comes with a free PDF copy – once the 450 (or so) print copies are sold out, we’ll continue to offer a free PDF of the 1914 catalogue here on the blog.
This catalog shows nearly every tool needed in a hand-tool shop 100 years ago, from the chisels to the butt gauges to every sort of plane in the company’s line. The text explains what each one is used for and how it functions differently from other similar tools.
The catalog also has fantastic exploded views of many of the complex tools, such as Stanley’s miter boxes, the multi-planes and handplanes. It’s a great resource to have on hand at a tool meet or antique market – not only to identify vintage tools, but to see if all the parts are intact.
If you are just getting into hand tools, we think you will find this catalog a delight to read, hold and learn from. The information in it is factual and straightforward – not the puffery you get from many modern catalogs. And if you collect or appreciate vintage hand tools, we think you will love this catalog, which reproduces the vintage drawings with remarkable clarity.
Once these are gone, we are not reprinting. So get it now or forever hold your (Harvey) peace.
