I wonder sometimes if the reason old woodworking texts seem frustratingly incomplete to us is because there weren’t many words out there that could help one learn the craft.
Put another way: Why do most old woodworking texts begin with an exhaustive explanation of geometry and then refuse to tell us how to set up a smoothing plane?
— Christopher Schwarz
Peter Follansbee’s brain switches off when someone begins a sentence with, “You should….” Mine does a similar thing when I am told, “You can’t….”
Part of the beauty of modern communication – you can get a message rapidly to the whole world – is also its flaw – soon everyone is repeating that same message. If you repeat something long enough, it will soon become a facsimile of truth. (If you want to test this theory, start reading a lot about wood finishing.)
In some ways I am grateful that I did not learn woodworking in the Internet age. I did a lot of things that are so incredibly stupid that I have burned the evidence, lest it end up on someone’s blog. I made up joints that probably shouldn’t exist. And I built furniture that by all rights should have exploded by now (it didn’t).
Oh, and I spent the first six years of my life as a newspaper reporter being fed outright lies everyday.
So I like to test declaratives (three-legged chairs are tippy), assumptions (you need special tools to build chairs), writ (you cannot bend kiln-dried wood) and common practice (drawboring is for timber-framing and old work). Most of the time I find that these ideas are based in some truth, but they have become twisted into holy law.
Woodworking doesn’t have a lot of laws. They are similar to the laws of physics, but not much more.
In other words, wood can be shaped by your mind and your hands, but not by words.
— Christopher Schwarz
In 1990, I was fresh out of college, working my first job at The Greenville News and terrified of being fired.
During my first year on the job as reporter I hit a patch where I made a string of minor errors in my stories that required the newspaper to print corrections or clarifications the next day. And it seemed the harder I worked to get things right, the worse things got.
After a couple weeks of this it got to the point where I couldn’t open the second-floor door to the newsroom. I just froze at the top of the beige-painted stairwell and stared at the fire door.
I had no idea what to do next. So I opened the door and resolved to ride it into the dirt.
At this point in the tale, I’m supposed to tell you that things took a turn for better. That I became a stronger person and a better journalist. But that would be bull#$&@. It got worse.
I made an error in a story about a huge oil spill at a golf course. I misspelled the name of the oil pipeline company at least a dozen times in my story. I should have been fired that day. But I suppose my editor took pity on me.
But even that wasn’t the bottom of the well. Hitting bottom was so painful I can’t really talk about the event except with close friends and my wife. And that wretched weekend is where things started to turn around for me as a writer and a journalist.
What does this have to do with woodworking? For me, everything. When I hit a rough patch in a project or a design, I have found that the only way out for me is to drive the car off the cliff and into the sea. I have to find bottom so I can push off that and find air.
I’ve tried other strategies – walking away from a project and then coming back to it with a fresh attitude and new ideas. For me that’s like pressing “pause” on the Betamax. It only prolongs the inevitable.
Today I am looking for the bottom with this design for a backstool. It has to be around here somewhere.
— Christopher Schwarz
ONE of our Indian readers sends us particulars for the making of a simple home cot, which we think will be of general interest.
The cot consists of a skeleton framework supported by four legs, the overall height being 18 ins. The length of the cot is 5 ft. 6 ins., the width 3 ft. 6 ins. The mattress is made by weaving a good strong tape mesh as suggested in the top right corner of the plan drawing. The method of jointing the side and end rails of the cot to the legs is somewhat unusual and, if the maker is not familiar with the joint, he is advised to make a rough model of one corner before proceeding with his work. Fig. 1 shows a plan of the cot as seen from above. Fig. 2 is the front elevation, showing on the right a turned leg as suggested by our Indian contributor, whilst on the left we show a square tapered leg having a foot which is suitable for those makers who have no lathe. The wood used for construction of the article is generally teakwood, but there is no reason why such wood as ash, beech or birch should not be used. Fig. 3 gives an end elevation.
The following is a list of the wood required: Four legs, 1 ft. 7 ins. by 3 ins. by 3 ins.; two long bars, 5 ft. 7 ins by 3 ins. by 1-1/2 ins. and two end bars 3 ft. 7 ins. by 3-1/2 ins. by 1-1/2 ins. An arch has been allowed in the length of the bars, but they should finish in width and thickness to the sizes given.
At Fig. 4 we show a sketch of the cross and end bar mortised into the leg, and it will be seen that a turned hardwood peg fits into a suitably provided hole and locks the tenons, which are dry jointed (not glued) in position.
The head of this turned peg forms an ornament or finish at the top of the leg and it should of course fit tightly in position so as to prevent the youngster from pulling it out. Fig. 5 gives a sketch of the end and cross bars in their relative positions when they are apart from the leg. At Fig. 6 is given a sketch of the end bar and cross bar when the cot is fixed in position, but in this illustration the leg is purposely left out of the drawing for a clear representation. Fig. 7 shows the joints of the leg portion when the part of the leg above the line (A, Fig. 4) is sawn off. The hardwood peg is shown at Fig. 8. The above methods of illustrating the joint have been chosen because the interlacing of so many dotted lines in the ordinary sketch makes it next to impossible for a worker who is not familiar with the joint to follow an ordinary drawing.
If beech, birch or ash is used it may be stained either mahogany or walnut colour, after which it may be given a coat of brush polish and when this is hard the work may be wax polished. If the cot is made in teak wood it may be finished as above, but without staining.
We are indebted to Mr. S. V. Ramesad, of Beswada, India, for the above particulars. (600)
— from The Woodworker magazine, May 1925
There aren’t many things I miss about corporate America – except for Teresa.
Teresa runs the mailroom at F+W Media (among other things), and was always there to sign for packages and put them in your hands so you could race past the deadline (not a good metaphor) to victory! And riches! And a cocaine party with a puppy!
So today I was afraid to shower or even leave the front room of our house as I awaited delivery of the final cover drawing for Peter Galbert’s “Chairmaker’s Notebook.” Peter sent it overnight, and it was supposed to be here at noon.
By 2 p.m., I smelled a nasty stew. It was me. The package is still in Boston and we have lost a day. So I showered.
The good news was that I sneaked in 30 minutes in the shop to make the conical tenons for the next three-legged backstool. Deciding on the final shape was no contest. The six-sided legs look ridiculous – I’m going shave them into octagons as punishment. The octagonal legs look great. And the new seat sits remarkably well, even though it is unsaddled.
— Christopher Schwarz