During my occasional free evening, I research the history of our storefront at 837 Willard St. in Covington. While I’ve learned a lot by digging through official records, I’ve learned more by talking to the neighbors – many of whom have lived on our street for 60 or 70 years.
The juiciest story? There were a couple murders in our bar, and neighbors and former employees say the place is definitely haunted.
I haven’t been able to confirm the murders, despite several evenings of looking through newspaper archives. But I am half-convinced the place is haunted.
Recently we had a scrub brush disappear from the slop sink. And I really mean disappear. One moment it was there, and shortly after it was gone gone gone. We looked for it for weeks. Last week I bought an identical replacement, which is shown above.
Last week, Megan Fitzpatrick reported that her favorite paint brush had similarly disappeared. She’d had this brush for 15 years (yes, I know that’s odd). She brought it to the shop to paint a tool chest for a customer and put it in the chest. The next day it was gone.
What kind of ghost steals brushes? I hope I catch them cleaning things up or painting the gutters. Otherwise, I’m going to pay a visit to exorcism.com.
This isn’t a tutorial on dovetails. The world needs another one of those like we need another portal to hell below an abandoned Chi-Chi’s.
Instead, this blog entry is about some of the details that are specific to making a tool chest. So not all these bullet points apply to drawers or other casework.
Gang Cut Your Tails I’m indifferent as to which part of the joint I cut first. It really depends on the type of dovetail joint. When I cut massive dovetails for a tool chest, I cut my tails first because I can gang-cut the tails. When I introduced this idea to my classes on building tool chests, we saved almost a day.
The only downside to dovetailing through 2” of pine is that the sawdust can pack into the gullets of your saw and stop the cutting action. Here’s how to avoid this problem with the flick of the wrist. Once you are about 1/8” deep into the kerf, begin lifting the saw a smidge on your return stroke. This allows the sawdust to fall from the teeth and clears your gullets.
Also, here’s a tip when gang cutting: Clamp the boards together as shown above when inserting and removing the boards in your vise. This makes it effortless to keep the boards aligned throughout the cutting.
A Joint in the Tails Many old books on building tool chests recommend you stagger any glue lines in your panels for a tool chest so that the entire chest doesn’t split in the middle if/when your glue fails.
I have seen many pieces of messed-up old furniture, but I have never seen a glue-line failure on four panels. So I generally don’t worry about this advice.
I do, however, try to bury the glue line in the middle of a tail. If your glue is sub-optimal you don’t want it running through the sloping wall of a tail. A piece of your tail could break off during assembly. This I have seen.
Chop to the Side of Your Chisel If you stand at the end of your panel while chopping then you have no clue if your chisel is 90° to the surface of the panel. You need to stand or sit to the side so you can see if the chisel is 90° or some other angle if you are undercutting the floor of the joint.
Good Marks Finally, I recommend you use traditional marriage marks on the edges of your panels. By looking at these marks you can instantly see if you have your panels messed up. I have watched hundreds of students ignore my advice and use their own A-A, B-B, C-D system and mess things up royally at glue-up. No marking system is perfect, but marriage marks are the best method I’ve found.
Plus, it’s a universal language. I can see if someone is screwing things up from across a room and attempt to save them if they are using marriage marks. If your marking system involves emojis, Pokemon and the compass rose, only Squirtle can save your butt.
The Lost Art Press storefront in Covington, Ky., will be open from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. on Saturday, March 10.
This weekend you’ll see the shop in full-production mode (which is our way of saying “excuse the mess.”) Brendan Gaffney is finishing up a gorgeous and extremely complex bookcase that involves a lot of interesting techniques, including recording and veneering.
Megan Fitzpatrick is just finishing up a Dutch tool chest for a customer – it’s being painted right now. And I’m deep into two full-blown Anarchist’s Tool Chests for customers. These both use Peter Ross hardware. Come check out the crab lock Peter makes. It is stunning.
And we’ll be here to answer any woodworking questions you might have. Our address is 837 Willard St., Covington, KY 41011.
Some Food Options to Consider If you are looking for a bite to eat, Lil’s Bagels has opened a walk-up window, which is a short walk from our storefront, on Greenup Street. Great bagels – the best in the city – and bagel sandwiches.
For lunch, take a walk over to Wunderbar, which has dang good German food and fantastic pretzels and beer cheese. Or try Guiterrez Deli (right across the street from Wunderbar). Guiterrez is a Mexican grocery that will make you an outstanding burrito.
Note: This article is part of an ongoing series about the details of tool chest construction.
When building a tool chest, it’s tempting to get to the dovetailing as soon as possible. However, the work you do before the dovetailing is more important in the long run. (Even crappy dovetails hold nicely after hundreds of years.) And so I’m afraid we’re going to talk about a topic that bores people to tears: stock preparation.
Stock Selection I use white pine for tool chests whenever possible. It’s lightweight, easy to work and plenty strong. My second choice is poplar (Liriodendron tulipifera), which is dirt cheap here in Kentucky. Poplar is easy to work and available in wide widths. The major downside to poplar is its smell. Some people find its odor to be as pleasing as dog poo. It doesn’t bother me.
Crosscut in the Rough After I purchase my stock, I immediately crosscut it to length while it’s still rough and sticker it for a couple weeks in the driest area of my shop. I check the moisture content with a meter to ensure I don’t encounter any surprises. Boards move the most while losing their last few bits of moisture as they reach equilibrium. So let them do this while in the rough.
Making Panels Tool chests are painted, so you don’t have to fuss over the grain patterns in the panels. But you should fuss over the grain direction. After jointing and planing the boards to size, orient the boards in each panel so the grain direction runs the same way.
Also, and I know this will make people howl, orient the heart side of the boards so they will face the outside of the tool chest. Doing this will ensure the corners of your tool chest will stay as tight as possible. That’s because when boards warp, the bark side becomes concave and the heart side becomes convex. So putting the heart side facing out will force the corners of your carcase together. If the bark side faces out there is a danger that the corners will open.
This is a fine detail because the carcase is enclosed by dovetailed skirting. But you might as well do it right.
The heart side of all your boards should face out. I know this is blasphemy among modern woodworkers.
Squaring and Planing After your panels are glued up, square them up. Don’t trust your machines to do this. Check the ends with a reliable framing square and tweak the panels with a handplane. Then remove all the machine marks on the boards’ faces with a handplane. Do this before dovetailing.
If you handplane your panels after dovetailing, you can create gaps in your joints. You can plane the tailboards without creating gaps, but planing the pinboards after the joints are cut is asking for trouble.
With your panels square and clean, you are ready to cut dovetails. Details on that operation next.
We don’t know much about the “Schwarz” side of my family, such as when exactly they came to the United States or where they emigrated from.
There are family stories that involve the Ukraine. Plus a curious tale about a small cottage in Switzerland that was emblazoned with the family name.
At some point when I was a kid, we got a wooden sign (it might have been a gift) with our name carved into it in a pseudo blackletter font. That sign followed my father most of his adult life, from his shop at our farm in Hackett, Ark., to his shop in Fort Smith, Ark., and finally to his home in Charleston, S.C.
Last Christmas, my dad gave that wooden sign to me as a Christmas gift, and its meaning was not lost on me. He knew his battle with prostate cancer was nearing an end. And this slab of wood is pretty much our family baton.
Last Tuesday, my sister Robin called to say our dad had entered hospice. When I got the call I was driving to my workshop with a replacement part for a woodworking machine. The rest of the day was a blur, but I remember doing one thing: I put our family sign at the top of the bookcase in the workbench room where everyone could see it.
I headed to Charleston the next morning. During his final day alive, my dad sang along with my sisters to all the easy-listening songs from the 1970s that we loved. John Denver. The Carpenters. Jim Croce. Cat Stevens. Crosby, Stills & Nash. Even some Olivia Newton-John.
About 3 a.m. on Feb. 26 his breathing began to slow dramatically. And within the hour he was gone. He died at 3:52 a.m. and it was as peaceful a passing as I have ever witnessed – thanks in large part to the living saints at Lutheran Hospice.
Though we lost him too soon, his death was a relief in many ways. Diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2003, my father spent a good deal of his time fighting the disease. And the last couple years were particularly painful.
Since July, my sisters and I were with him almost nonstop. During one of my visits, he asked to have his DNA tested so he could perhaps learn something additional about where the Schwarzes came from.
The DNA results were odd. Despite my father’s last name and the way he was raised, he was not ethnically German. He was about 27 percent English with the rest of his genes scattered throughout Western and Eastern Europe. According to his DNA, his Schwarz ancestors likely immigrated to the United States in the 18th century. This does not line up with the little we know of the Schwarz family.
Our family’s reaction: Oh well.
Last week while we were in the middle of all this stuff, my sisters and I had dinner with my dad’s brother and cousins. I informed them of this genetic news. We had just received our drinks, and usually we all raise our glasses and say “Prost!” I’ve been doing this since I could lift a sippy cup with apple juice.
And so we said “Prost!” in honor of my father. And then my uncle Ron – my father’s brother – added: “Tolly ho!”
So my family remains a mystery. The only thing I have that seems a constant across the generations is the wooden sign hanging up in my shop now.
I don’t know who the Schwarzes are, but whoever they are – scoundrels, peasants or refugees – I am one of them. And I have a sign to prove it.
