A few weeks ago (Sept. 20-21) I attended the annual Open House event at Bob Van Dyke’s Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking in Manchester, CT. This year’s open house was combined with the Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event for two full days of woodworking demonstrations.
The centerpiece of the open house is a gallery of student work. This year CVSW was involved in a project with the Windsor Historical Society to build accurate period furniture reproductions for the 1758 Strong-Howard House. During the event, three tables were selected to furnish the interactive rooms at the house museum.
CVSW instructors were on hand in the main workshop to showcase projects and techniques from the school class schedule. Local tool makers and craftsmen were demonstrating their wares. On Saturday there was an outdoor flea market for antique hand tools.
I put together a photo gallery of the event for those who were unable to attend. Phones and tablets should be redirected to mobile version of the gallery.
Some of you might remember my “Death by Roubo” blog entry from March 2013, a grim but fascinating look at how to use your workbench for more than woodworking.
Well sometime this summer I got the idea to turn that image into a T-shirt with a slogan that was in questionable taste. So, with the help of Jeff Burks, I purchased two original copies of the April 5, 1903, edition of Le Petit Parisen, which had originally published the story and drawing. The old newspapers weren’t expensive.
Surprisingly, everyone I told the T-shirt idea to sensibly steered me away from it.
However, because I love this image so much, I took a high-resolution photo of it today and am publishing it here for you to enjoy. The detail in the drawing is quite good. Whoever drew the illustration was either familiar with workshops or simply paid good attention.
I love the little copper glue pot, the brace on the wall and the odd clamping contraption in the background.
But mostly I like the bench. Nice detail on the leg vise’s chop, sir. I salute you.
It’s OK, don’t get up.
Save the image to your hard drive, and you will be able to zoom in on this image to your heart’s content. If you don’t know how to save an image to your computer, click the link below to download the image.
When I started teaching woodworking about 10 years ago, it felt like I was spending more time flattening the sharpening stones than I was teaching.
It’s a common problem in hand-tool classes and shops: As soon as a woodworker finishes up an edge, he or she is so eager to get back to the bench that the stone is left hollow. A few years ago I started making this threat: “Leave my stones hollow and you will be fined one beer.”
That worked. Now I drink too much beer.
Turns out this was a solution in traditional shops as well. Here’s a great quote dug up by the always-digging Jeff Burks.
When the edge requires grinding and whetting, in the former of these operations, viz. the grinding, is performed on a flat rub-stone, similar to what carpenters sharpen their plane-irons on, with the application of water. This stone is about six inches broad, and eighteen long, and so careful are they to keep its surface flat, that it is a regulation in the work-shops, for every workman, after using the stone, to write his name upon it with a piece of coal; when, if his successor finds it left so uneven, that a halfpenny can be passed underneath the edge of an iron, straight-edged, laid upon it, the former workman is subjected to a fine for his carelessness.
I tend to view tools and machines as neutral things. To me, a handsaw, table saw and jigsaw are all tools of my personal liberty. With them, I can ditch the obligation to work on someone’s payroll. I don’t care if the tools plug in to the wall or pre-date the Rural Electrification Act.
We focus on handwork here at Lost Art Press because that is what is missing from the market. (The world does not need another book on router tables.) But we are not hostile to machines. To us, it all depends on how the tool is used – either to free yourself or to amass capital for others.
That said, history doesn’t always see technology this way. As I was using my iron miter box today to make some door frames, I remembered a fantastic passage from the “Report of the Industrial Commission of the Chicago Labor Disputes of 1900: The Disputes in the Building and Machinery Trades, Vol. VIII” (Government Printing Office, 1901). (Props to Jeff Burks for digging up the original testimony.)
It’s an interchange between a government official and union carpenter O. E. Woodbury.
Q. Did your union at any time forbid the use of the patent miter box, or the mortising machine, in a building?
A. I think they vetoed the use of the patent miter box; but I will tell you why they did it. In the first place, the carpenter that lugs a kit that he usually has to lug from job to job has got enough to carry without lugging an iron miter box; but not only that, they are a very expensive luxury, and the carpenter’s kit is a very expensive anyway, and he runs a great risk of losing it. A great many carpenters from time to time go home at night and leave the kit worth from $25 to $40 on the job, and go in the morning back to work and find that somebody has broken into the building or the lockup shed and stolen their tools, and they find themselves without a tool to work with; and if they haven’t got a bank account, and mighty few of them have, they will not have any money to put into new tools.
The iron miter box simply increases your kit, and adds more weight to it, and more expenses to it. We feel that it is a tool that if the bosses want you to have and want you to use, because it is perhaps more accurate than the average wooden miter box, they should provide the carpenters with them. We have never said to one of our members, You can not use it. But we forbid them – I believe at one time we forbade them to buy them and to carry them around with them, because the simple fact of the matter was that it would be but a short time before we should all have to carry them around and run the risk of losing them.
The following are fines paid by cabinetmakers in Irish shops in 1839. Typically, the fines were paid in drink for fellow shopmates.
1. Entering a shop as an apprentice: 1 pound, 1 shilling.
2. Failure to keep the glue warm: 6 pence.
3. Forgetting to extinguish the fire or candles at night: 2 shillings, 6 pence.
4. When an apprentice “takes the apron” to do man’s work: 1 shilling.
5. When an apprenticeship expires, called “washing him out:” 10 shilling, 6 pence.
6. Getting married: 10 shilling.
7. Having a child: a quart of whisky.
8. Being taught any new task: 1 shilling.
9. Tool not put away: 3 pence.
10. Long beard or dirty shirt: 6 pence.
11. Obtaining a favored workbench near a window: quart of whisky.
12. Gluing someone’s pockets shut: 2 pence.
13. Leaving the rubstone hollow: 1 pence.
“It is wonderful that there are any sober men in the mechanic class at all, when such perpetual drinking tyranny dominates over them… . Boys at first are shy of taking drink, and seem to dislike it, but before they are half out of their time they generally acquire the usual relish for stimulation, and are eager to subject new comers to the same exercise which was so disagreeable to themselves. Thus cruelty and drunkenness are perpetuated, and the foundation of all evil habits laid in the very social constitution.”
Excerpted from “The Philosophy of Artificial and Compulsory Drinking Usage in Great Britain and Ireland: Containing the Characteristic, and Exclusively National, Convivial Laws of British Society” by John Dunlop – 6th Edition 1839.
— Christopher Schwarz
Thanks to Jeff Burks for pointing me to this book. Or perhaps it was an intervention?
