Looking around at contemporary furniture, one is more and more conscious of how little there is of really pleasant, comfortable attractive design for the ordinary men and women who want just that in their home and can feel no enthusiasm for freakishness or oddity or the bleakness of peg-legs and the like in the furniture they have to live with.
And how utterly bleak those peg-legs will look when the novelty and newness have worn off and only the barren, unimaginative ugliness remains.
Between bouts of loading 6,000 pounds of books, several holiday dinners and shoveling snow, I managed to make some progress on the Dutch tool chest.
I added two coats of General Finishes Milk Paint – lamp black color. I have serious doubts how much “milk” is in this paint, but the stuff is easy to brush or spray when wet, and it is tough as heck when dry. Plus it has that chalky look in the end.
I added one tool rack in the top area of the chest (with another to come) and made some handles. I wanted to use oak for the handles, but I have so many mahogany scraps left from building Roorkhee chairs this year that I couldn’t imagine going out and buying a plank of 8/4 oak for this.
The handles aren’t really Dutch. I made mine to look like old bearing blocks or maybe a mantle clock. The ends were laid out using basic geometry and a compass. The round bits are scraps from Roorkhee chair stretchers that I turned down to size and added a couple details.
I’ll make the saw till for the lid tonight. Then I’ll set the project aside to wait for the hinges and hasp.
Next up: A portable workbench.
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. The casters are NOS (new old stock) stuff from the 1940s that I found on eBay. They are made in America, move as smoothly as a goose on ex-lax and cost me less than $20.
From WANDERING WOOD BUTCHER, Alexandria, La. In looking over the issue for December last, I noticed a plan of a tool chest furnished by “R. S. M.” of Dover,
Mass., which is only one of many plans that have appeared in the paper during the past 20 years. These have greatly interested me, but I observe that in nearly all cases one thing, which in my opinion leaves the chest incomplete, has been omitted, and that is an ample shoulder box or tray for carrying the tools to and from the place of work – a box 10 inches deep by 12 inches wide, which can be dropped into a chest as a tray or till when the day’s work is over, the key turned and the carpenter can go away at peace with himself and his fellow men. I dislike to see a carpenter come on a job in the morning with a hand full of tools and then make 10 to 15 trips during the day to the chest for more. Then when noon or night comes he is running all over the building, fussing with the other men about his tools being lost, stolen, or mislaid. If he is lucky enough to find them in the dark, or even the light, be has to drag them to his chest, possibly necessitating two trips in the operation. Such a chest is a poor excuse, no matter how nicely made and trimmed. In the box as above described a carpenter can take such tools as he usually requires, or the nature of the particular work demands, to any part of the building and have them always ready at hand. When the words “pick up” are given, he can do so in an instant and go home rejoicing, instead of feeling annoyed at the necessity of having been obliged to grope around in the rubbish for his tools. Another thing I might suggest in connection with tool chests is not to put such panel tops on them, but cover with galvanized iron so far as to make the chest sun proof and water proof, and baggage smasher proof, if good comer irons of the same material are put on with clout nails and clinched.
If one cannot have his chest arranged as above described, I would suggest at least having one of which he will not be ashamed to take it to a job or among strangers as an example of workmanship, skill and taste. Of late years it is not an uncommon sight to see men calling
themselves carpenters coming on a job with a gunny sack for a tool chest, or an old box picked up in the backyard of some store with the name of the manufacturer of snuff, tobacco, boots and shoes, or some other commodity printed all over it until it looks like a bill board or traveling advertisement. If for the latter purpose it is a great hit and a success, for it announces to every beholder that the owner is a hobo, tramp or fraud who travels for notoriety as a wandering wood butcher. Another thing I would suggest to the young chips is that if they cannot have many tools, make sure to have good ones and keep them in good order and looking clean. Do not be like two of those wandering wood butchers who by letter applied to me a few years ago for a job and described themselves “carpenters by profession.” I brought them 150 miles to work and found they had pieces of limbs of trees with the bark on for hammer handles and as soon as they landed took a saw in one hand and a file in another and went to nearly every man in the town, from the Section Boss to the Town Marshal, saying “Please, Mister, will you file me a saw?” Now the reader may not be able to understand the sort of an impression they made on the foreman, or what remarks the rest of the crew made about the foreman’s new hands, but I do. I did not hear the last of them for a year and even now I meet some one who refers to my “imported carpenters.” I would say to the young chip, though be he not a full-fledged carpenter, do not be ashamed or afraid to own up. Tell the boss the truth and nine times out of ten he will help you through, for he himself had to learn by having others show him. If you lie to him he will catch you in the course of time and then one may expect to hear some hard remarks. Right here is the reason some foremen are considered hard to work for and why they get a hard name. When you hear a man speaking hard of a foreman, you may safely assume there is something wrong with himself.
— Carpentry and Building, April 1903. Thanks to Jeff Burks for unearthing this gem.
I received the greatest gift today – I was freed from the obligation to see “Les Miserables.” So while all the fallopian-tubed individuals left the house for three hours, I beavered away on this Dutch tool chest.
I got the removable front panel complete and filled the house with the luxurious smell of turpentine after I cut into my special stash of old-growth yellow pine.
Usually when I build a tool chest, I use a white pine for the carcase and white oak for the parts that see abrasive wear (drawer runners etc.). But for this chest I decided to use some old yellow pine I scored this year. The pine was old growth – at least 30 rings to the inch – that had been reclaimed for a house job. I got the scraps.
This stuff is nothing like the yellow pine at the home centers. It is heavier than most maples, incredibly stable and tough. If I could find enough of it, I’d build another workbench out of it – it’s that good.
For this tool chest, I used yellow pine for the battens on the front and the locking mechanism that secures the front tight. I also used yellow pine for the two strips on the bottom of the chest.
And now to cook dinner.
If I don’t drink too much Maudite, I might have time to dress the chest lid (it’s still in the rough) and add the thumbnail profile to its edges.
This fall I’ve been studying Dutch tool chests out of both necessity and desire.
I recently traded in my 10-year-old Acura RSX for a new car that has a smaller trunk, and I also had a generous offer from a reader to purchase my beat-up traveling tool chest. So I had to build a new tool chest that squeezes into my new car, holds all my tools and can be ready before the end of January.
Dutch tool chests fit that bill.
This is quite possibly the fastest tool chest I’ve built. After only two days in the shop, I’m about 80-percent done, and almost everything (save some long rip cuts) was done by hand. And while that time might sound spectacular, it’s not. I’ve spent almost 40 hours researching old Dutch chests and designing mine to fit a complete set of Western tools in the smallest space possible.
It fits a standard set of bench planes (fore, try and smoother), all the joinery planes (plow, rabbet, shoulder, routers), a half set of hollows and rounds (plus the support planes and beaders), three joinery saws (dovetail, carcase and tenon), and all the assorted small tools, from chisels to awls to hammers. It really is quite ingenious.
The other cool thing? The chest’s design uses all dimensional pine – 1x12s and 1x8s for the most part. So you can build this chest using home-center materials.
If all this sounds interesting, make sure to renew your subscription to Popular Woodworking Magazine because the editors purchased an article on this tool chest for an issue in 2013.
The chest will use strap hinges that can be purchased from Lee Valley, or from a blacksmith. I’ve asked blacksmith John Switzer at Black Bear Forge to make my strap hinges and hasp for this chest. And it will be painted, though I haven’t decided on the color.
