When I make a DVD, the producers always give me a certain number of free copies to give to my mom or (in the case of some really dull DVDs) to use as drink coasters.
As a result, I have 19 copies of “A Traditional Tool Chest in Two Days” sitting on my desk right now that I would rather be somewhere else. I have enough drink coasters.
So we are going to sell these DVDs at half price to our loyal blog readers. Instead of $24.99, you’ll pay $12 plus domestic shipping.
Why did I call it the “traitor’s” tool chest in the title? Read here.
We only have 19 of these. So if you want one, click now or forever hold your mouse.
I am wed and bred to the traditional tool chest. I’ve been working out of one since 1996 and have no plans to suddenly switch to storing my tools in stacking rubber boxes.
Sure, I’ve experimented with other systems (like when I experimented with lesbianism in college). But after giving them a year or two in parallel with my tool chest, I always went back to the warm embrace of of the big floor chest by my workbench.
If you hate tool chests, that’s cool with me. But you need to come up with a way to hold your tools that makes it easy to work at the bench. Since publishing “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” I’ve been asked about once a month to please, please, please design a wall-hung tool cabinet that is the equal of a floor chest.
Now that I’m juggling two book projects, I’m really not equipped to design a complicated piece of tool storage and give it a real-world test. But perhaps you are.
When I consider tool storage, here is a list of the things that are important to me. Other woodworkers at the extremes (French-fitting neat-nicks and those who are casual about tool care) will disagree. That’s cool. Write your own book.
1. Tools protected from rust, dust and damage. I spent a lot of time fixing up tools or saving up the money to buy my tools. So I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them rust or get cruddy. Good tool storage should keep the tools protected. Period. This is why I don’t like open tool racks (which I’ve experimented with a lot). The tools on the open racks are more likely to get rusty or (more important) go missing.
2. All tool can be grabbed instantly or by moving one sliding/swinging layer in front. Your tool system should not be a Chinese puzzle box. H.O. Studley’s toolbox is cool, but it is a tool-storage nightmare.
3. Tools aren’t obscured from view in drawers. When tools go into drawers, they seem to disappear from memory. I like tools in the open because of this simple fact: When you can see all your tools your memory about their location is much improved. I have to nudge my marking knife to grab my carpenter’s pencil, so it’s easy for me to remember where the knife is – I’ve seen it 100 times that day.
4. The storage is flexible without distinct spots for everything. I tried French-fitting my tools. It was a chore to make all the little racks and holder bits. Then I decided I wanted the shoulder plane somewhere else and so I had to change it all.
5. The tools should be in smallest space possible. When your tools are in a compact area you won’t have to walk across the shop to pick them off the rack across the room. It’s all right there, just within arm’s reach.
6. The storage should be inexpensive and movable. I’d rather buy more wood for furniture. And someday I might have a cooler shop on Russell Street.
This is a quick back-of-the-napkin list. But I think it’s pretty good.
“This or that quiet place, the home of peace, was turned into a ghastly battle-field, with the naked and maimed corpses of trees lying about. Bad enough, all this was. Still, trees might grow again; the hollows might recover their woodland privacy and peace for other generations to enjoy. But what would never be recovered, because in fact War had found it already all but dead, was the earlier English understanding of timber, the local knowledge of it, the patriarchal traditions of handling it.”
— The Wheelwright’s Shop by George Sturt (Cambridge, 1948)
(Image from “Four and Twenty Toilers” [1900] by Francis Donkin Bedford [1864-1954]. Image from Jeff Burks. Download the full book here.)
Question: What made you decide that you liked the Dutch tool chest design in favor of the one in “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest?”
Answer: I don’t prefer the Dutch chest.
This Q&A was repeated at least 20 times on Friday and Saturday during the Lie-Nielsen Hand Tool Event in Cincinnati, Ohio. I had brought the Dutch chest so people could examine it and get a feel for how it works. I’d also brought an English-style chest, which was filled with Lost Art Press books.
So here is a list of the advantages and disadvantages of each style of chest.
Portability: The Dutchman Wins
With an overall size of 27” wide x 13” deep x 26” high, the Dutch chest fits on the backseat of almost any vehicle and can be strapped in with a seat belt. I can easily lift and carry the chest myself. The full-size English chest is 40” wide x 24” deep x 26” high. It takes two people to move it, and you have to have a truck, utility vehicle or station wagon to transport it.
My smaller traveling English tool chest can be handled (barely) by one person and fits in many cars. But it is still not as easy to move as the Dutch.
Ease of Construction: Point, Dutchman
The Dutch chest takes me about 16 hours of shop time to build (including the paint). It has only two dovetailed corners. The rest of the joinery is dados, tongue-and-groove, glue and screws. It can be built with dimensional pine and requires only one panel glue-up (for the lid).
The English chest takes me about three times as long to build because there is so much more wood and everything is dovetailed and nailed. It’s a major project that requires a lot of wood and considerable time to complete.
Durability: One for the English
Though I haven’t tested either chest into the ground, past experience tells me that dovetails will last longer than screws. The English chest really is designed to last forever. The bottom bits are designed to be replaced when they rot out. The orientation of the joints on the skirts are designed to hold the chest together even if the glue fails.
The Dutch chest is solid enough, but it’s not designed to take the same level of punishment as the English chest. If the bottom rots out, I’ve got to rebuild the chest. If the screws rust and the glue fails, lots of things are going to come loose.
Looks: I Like the English
The Dutch chest isn’t ugly – several people at the Lie-Nielsen show said they preferred the looks of the Dutch chest. But to my eye, the English chest is beautiful. I like the shadow lines created by the skirts and raised-panel lid. I’ve experimented with adding more visual interest to the Dutch chest with some success, but it still looks like a grain bin to me.
Utility: Tie
While the English chest holds more, the Dutch chest holds enough and makes it easier to move your stuff around. Getting to all the tools in the Dutch chest is easy if you put the chest on a sawbench. You don’t have to prop up the English chest, and its lid is another working surface in the shop.
And so this morning I brought my Dutch chest into the shop and removed every tool. I wiped them down with a woobie and put them back into place in the English chest. I know some of you out there are going to say this is an onerous task task, but it’s not. Whenever I travel, I have to clean all the tools and put them back in order. (I allow all my students to use my personal tools, and so they get a lot of use.)
So the bottom line is that I’m glad I have the Dutch chest because I am on the road teaching for about 13 weeks out of the year. And the Dutch chest makes travel easy. But when I come home, I’m always happy to see my English chest with its open lid, waiting to get back to work.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. Megan Fitzpatrick, the editor of Popular Woodworking Magazine, says my story on Dutch tool chests should be in the October 2013 issue of the magazine. There are no promises in the magazine world, but that’s the word today.
When I teach woodworking classes, I am sometimes asked the following question: Do you consider yourself first a writer or a woodworker?
I don’t have an answer to that question. I have to do both things just about every day to feel human. And so I usually answer the question by saying: I don’t know. But right now I’m… (pick one) thirsty, tired, bloated, crampy, malodorous or oblong.
But today I was tired. Only tired (and a little oblong).
This evening we wrapped up five days of building “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” at the Melbourne Guild of Fine Woodworking in Australia. This is, hands down, the furthest that all the 12 students have come to completing the project. Almost all of the students had their lids glued up and were adding the dust seals when we called it quits. A couple students still had to glue up their lids, but that was more by choice than because it was 5 p.m.
There are two reasons we made it so far. First, I changed a couple simple things about the course with the dovetail layout and the cutting that saved us almost an entire day. Read my blog entry here for more details on that.
Second, the students were relentless. It was honestly unlike anything I had seen before in any class. They worked like dogs during the day (barely stopping for lunch) and we had to shoo them out in the evening. Also notable: They saw, hammer and plane much faster than Americans, Canadians or Europeans. Faster is not always better, but their swifter pace was noticeable.
When I make a DVD, the producers always give me a certain number of free copies to give to my mom or (in the case of some really dull DVDs) to use as drink coasters.
