Category: The Anarchist’s Tool Chest

In “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” I profess a love – actually it’s more of an uncomfortable lust, the kind so weird that you can’t look the other person in the eye the next morning – for Eastern white pine.

But Eastern white pine can be difficult to find outside of its range on the Eastern seaboard and the Great Lakes area.

I’ve had several readers ask me for alternative choices for woods for the shell of a tool chest. I do have a few ideas to share, but before I do that, here’s the “how to fish” portion of the blog entry: Look for a cheap, lightweight wood that is indigenous to your area. Buy it in 4/4 or 5/4 in the rough and dress it to 7/8” or 1” thickness and you will be fine.

Don’t buy 3/4” surfaced material — that’s too thin.

So if you are in the deep South, look for cypress. Out West? Sitka spruce. Europe? Scots pine. In the Middle West, look hard for Eastern white pine, it’s out there.

If none of these options pan out for you, use poplar, which is widely available in most parts of the United States.

If you have other suggestions, post them in the comments below.

— Christopher Schwarz

During the last month I have been asked how I am enjoying “retirement,” or if I’ve picked out a nice spacious refrigerator box for my new hobo-inspired lifestyle.

These people do not know me well.

Since June 15 I have taught four classes, taped two episodes of “The Woodwright’s Shop,” negotiated four book contracts, edited two books and built two projects in my shop at home. One’s a cabinet on commission – yay money – the other project is another one of those pesky A-squares that I put on the cover of “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.”

This square is built from some sweet quartersawn walnut that carpenter Carl Bilderback unloaded on me (thanks Carl!). I don’t think it has been steamed. The above photo does not capture the color; the stuff is incredibly warm.

My daughter Katy and I cleaned up the beads on the square this morning, and I shot two coats of lacquer on it during lunch. Yes, I know I am going to hand-tool hell for using an HVLP sprayer. I’m OK with that.

Now I’ve got to prepare the rest of the wood for two side tables that I’m building for an upcoming DVD at Lie-Nielsen Toolworks. Saturday I leave to teach a class.

When I return, I hope to have some news on two new titles for Lost Art Press for 2011. And one of them is definitely not “Feng Shui in Your Lean-to.”

— Christopher Schwarz

One of the unexpected benefits of writing two books on workbenches has been that hundreds of woodworkers have sent me photos of their benches along with notes about the construction process and things they dislike and like about the form they chose.

And now the process is beginning again with tool chests.

This June I taught a class in Germany on building the chest from “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.” It was a miracle that anyone took the class. When the class at Dictum was announced, my book hadn’t been released. And who in Europe has room in their shop for a traditional tool chest?

The 11 woodworkers who tool the class at Dictum’s shop came from all over Europe; we even had one guy from Chicago! While I’ve had a lot of great classes, this group was particularly special, and we have kept in touch through the longest e-mail thread I have ever participated in.

And now some of them are beginning to send me photos of their chests. This weekend I got a couple from Brian Eve, a former U.S. serviceman who now runs a kindergarten in Bavaria. Brian brought a lot of tools to the class from the United States that the Europeans had never seen (one of big advantages of having an APO box in Europe).

He had an awesome Bad Axe saw and a crazy dovetail saw. It was a beautiful Spear & Jackson saw that Mark Harrell at Bad Axe had reworked by replacing the sawplate. It looked odd at first – a 200-year-old saw with a shiny sawplate. But Brian loaned it – and all his tools – to the other students, and so everyone got to try tools from all over the globe.

Here’s what Brian wrote about the state of his chest:

“Here are a couple of shots of the current state of my chest. I got the hinges installed today, and I feel confident that I probably won’t have to burn it now. It’s far from done, but beginning to look like a tool-chest-shaped object.

“I almost stopped after two hinges, but decided that now I have the hang of it, I really should take the time to do the third. I am glad I did. It feels much more stable and substantial that way.  At least that is what I think now that it’s done.

“I’m off to buy some more wood for the guts tomorrow; I need some pine and oak. Or, I could just use some of the bits and pieces that I have been carting around forever waiting for that perfect project. What do you think, Spanish cedar tills, curly maple bottoms, figured ebony runners and some claro walnut for the saw till?”

I hope Brian is just messing with me there.

And to reward those who have read this far I have a small piece of news I’ll be announcing in the coming weeks. Because of my job change, my wife and I have reconsidered my decision to forgo all teaching in 2012.

Soon I’ll be announcing a very limited number of classes in 2012, including at least one on building this chest at Kelly Mehler’s school next summer. Stay tuned.

— Christopher Schwarz

As I finished up building my tool chest for “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” I struggled with the idea of installing a lock on the lid.

Most tool chests have locks. The lock – and the sheer weight of the chest – are an ingenious pre-Industrial Revolution security system.

But I don’t like locks. Never have.

Growing up in Arkansas, we rarely locked our houses or cars. Our neighborhood was definitely a mixed-income ZIP code, with everyone from janitors to doctors. Factory workers at Whirlpool. The owner of the local roller rink – Golden Wheels.

So why didn’t we bolt our doors? Well what if your neighbor needed a cup of sugar? Or there was a fire and someone needed to save your dog? What if you didn’t have a key? Plus, in our family of six there was almost always someone home.

In fact, I’d have to say that the biggest difference of opinion between me and my wife is our locking habits. She always locks everything. She does it so automatically that she regularly locks me out of the house when I go for a run or walk to the store.

Or perhaps she is trying to send me a message….

In any case, I didn’t want to put a lock on my chest, both for psychological and symbolic reasons. I’ve always tried to be as open as possible when it comes to sharing my tools and what I know about the craft. Putting a lock on the chest seemed to send the wrong message.

I skipped the lock, painted the chest and called it done. But the next morning when I came into the shop and looked at the completed project it looked wrong. So I installed the lock and the escutcheon and am now pleased with the way it looks – except for the too-shiny key.

Skip forward a few months and I’m giving a presentation on tool chest design to a woodworking club and bring up the topic of the lock. One of the attendees raises his hand and makes a wry observation: The lockset I’d selected uses a generic key. In other words, thousands (maybe millions) of woodworkers have a key that can open my chest so they can root around in it.

That fact gave me comfort.

— Christopher Schwarz