The spruce soundboard of the harpsichord built by John Brown, with wildflowers painted by Richard Platt.
Most of the readers on this blog know John Brown as a chairmaker and writer. But as I have gotten to know his family and friends, I’ve learned he was much more. I knew JB was a boatbuilder, and his cuttyhunks still fetch good money. He was also a jet pilot, a fine art painter and a man of letters. But I didn’t know that he ever built musical instruments. One of JB’s sons has to part with a harpsichord made by the late John Brown. If you are interested in Baroque-era instruments, please read on.
— Christopher Schwarz
Here’s a unique opportunity to own a harpsichord made by the great John Brown, decorated with British wildflowers by renowned artist and musicologist Richard Swaby Platt, a great friend of JB. Though JB was of course best known as a chairmaker, magazine columnist and author of the seminal book “Welsh Stick Chairs,” he built other things, too – including this Flemish-style harpsichord, which started out as a kit from harpsichord revolutionary Wolfgang Zuckermann (though JB made it his own).
The instrument is currently owned by JB’s son Ieuan Einion, a writer and musician who lives in France. “I don’t really want to part with it because of its sentimental value to me but I’m running out of space (it is one of seven keyboard instruments I have, including three harpsichords),” writes Ieuan. “I would be happy for it to go to someone who appreciated JB’s work and philosophy, and wanted part of his history; a serious musician who wanted a light, easily transportable instrument might be better advised to look elsewhere.”
I asked Ieuan to describe the instrument, as I know little about this form. “JB’s harpsichord was built from the kit that WZ produced after his move to England, not using the sides provided by Zuckermann, but replacing them with solid teak on the straight sides (15m thick) and laminated teak on the bent side (2 X 7mm glued). This has the effect of turning an Italian harpsichord into more like a Flemish one,” he writes. “Italian harpsichords were extremely light and were fitted into a heavier outside case from which they could be removed. The single most important development in Flemish instruments was that the soundboard was joined to the outer case.”
The teak, which had been destined for high-end boatbuilding, adds some heft; the JB harpsichord weighs 40-45kg, Ieuan estimates. It is 86 cm wide, 22 cm deep and 190 cm long.
“There are 54 keys BB – e” – with brown naturals (cherry?) and black accidentals (ebony or grenadilla?). It has two sets of strings (referred to as 2 x 8′), which can be engaged independently or together, and a lute stop. It can be tuned to A = 415 hz or A = 440 hz.”
“Zuckermann’s great achievement was making a hitherto specialist instrument into a project achievable by the home builder, which is probably what attracted JB to it, accompanied by his love of baroque music,” writes Ieuan. “We played one of JB’s favourite works, the Telemann viola concerto with the family band at his memorial event in 2008.
“The JB harpsichord has not been played since the 1990s and will require a good service from someone who knows what they’re doing, mostly fine tuning and replacing where necessary the plectra, checking the dampers etc (maybe two-three days work for someone who knows what they’re doing).”
Ieuan is asking U.S.$20,000. Interested parties, please click here to send him an email.
Editor’s note: Last month we launched our Mind Upon Mind series, a nod to a 1937 Chips from the Chisel column (also featured in “Honest Labour: The Charles H. Hayward Years”), in which Hayward wrote, “The influence of mind upon mind is extraordinary.” The idea being there’s often room for improvement. (You can read the entire Chips from the Chisel column here.)
To that end, we asked you: What else have you thought of, tried out and improved upon?
We’ve received some great submissions from LAP readers who have built projects from our books and had ideas on improving the design, construction or finishing of a project.
Here’s one of our favorites, from John R. Brauer in Lisle, Illinois.
Leveling Legs
I don’t have the budget for a Fat Boy scribing tool, but I have a sliding bevel. I bent a machine bolt, cut the head off and used a wing nut to attach a pencil (wrapped with paper tape for friction). Adjust to height and tighten.
Do you have a clever idea for an improvement? Email kara@lostartpress.com. You can read more about the submission process here.
In a space of just 10” x 39” x 19-1/2”, H.O. Studley managed to arrange – with perfection – more than 250 of his tools into a dovetailed mahogany cabinet that has captivated tens of thousands of woodworkers since it was first unveiled in 1988 on the back cover of Fine Woodworking with a single shocking photograph.
After a brief stay at the Smithsonian, the cabinet was sold to a private collector and hadn’t been seen by the public for well over a decade. Studley’s workbench has never been on public view.
This book is an in-depth examination of one of the most beautiful woodworking tool chests ever constructed and presents the first-ever biography of Studley (1838-1925), a piano and organ builder in Quincy, Mass. It features measurements, details and photographs of all the tools in the cabinet. Every swinging frame, hinged panel and nook of this three-dimensional, multi-layered sculpture has been analyzed so you can understand how it folds in on itself like a giant piece of mahogany origami.
But most of all, you will see the cabinet in a way that only a handful of privileged people ever have. And you will realize that the magazine photograph that electrified the woodworking world in 1988 only scratches the surface of the cabinet’s complete magnificence.
The generation of Hardwicks who were Studley’s contemporaries included three brothers: Charles Henry Hardwick, Sr., Henry Everett Hardwick and Charles Theodore Hardwick. It was these men with whom Studley bought and sold real estate. Again, according to Hardwick family legend, somewhere along the path of these ventures was a loan from one or more of the Hardwick brothers to Henry O. Studley, a loan that was secured with his tool cabinet as collateral. It is unknown whether the loan was part of a specific real estate transaction or simply part of a larger portfolio of activities.
This scenario of the tool ensemble being collateral does make sense at some level. We know these basic facts: Studley was deeply engaged in real estate deals, including many with the Hardwick family; he possessed the tool cabinet preceding his retirement about 1919, as proved by the photographic portrait; about that time his wife had recently died after a lingering and debilitating illness; and Studley’s own health began to fail shortly thereafter. It is not a great leap to wonder if any of these events had financial implications, and the conveyance of the tool cabinet and workbench to the Hardwicks was a consequence of that circumstance.
At first, I arrived at that conclusion because it made sense. However, an examination of the public records surrounding the Stetson and Studley family finances does not support the idea that Studley’s disposal of the tool cabinet and workbench was financially driven. His wife was from a wealthy family, and he had become wealthy himself along with her during their long marriage. A Stetson family deposition from 1940 relating to the disposition of some family assets states that [Mrs. Studley] “died without leaving any estate as she was bedridden for six years prior to her death and had used all her savings for expenses.” This deposition, however, does not align with the facts of Abbie’s will and probate, which lists substantial assets.
Given the probability that Studley’s finances did not force him to relinquish his tool cabinet, an equally plausible possibility, and in fact my own inescapable conclusion, is that it was a simple gift from Studley to Mr. Hardwick as a gesture of friendship and generosity, especially given that Studley was retired from the workshop and that he had presumably prospered through his partnerships with the Hardwicks over many years.
This Hardwick family Christmas card, probably from the 1950s, presents an image of the four-story granite manse that served as home to several generations of the family and was perhaps the starting point for Henry Studley’s career as a skilled craftsman. (Image courtesy of Peter Hardwick)
There is of course at this point no way to know the circumstances of the transaction and transfer; there is no known documentary evidence for the change in ownership. Still, it makes for some fascinating contemplation to consider the series of events at the end of Studley’s life that led him to part with this treasure, an inspired product of his own genius and hands.
Whatever the cause, the responsibility for custody and care of the tool cabinet and workbench now rested with the Hardwicks. Were it not for this caprice, the Hardwicks might be best known for their granite quarry and a scandalous murder that occurred there on July 29, 1910. In this sensational crime, Henry E. Hardwick and Mrs. Marianna Restelli, among others, were killed by her son, a quarryman/stone cutter named Luigi (Louis) Restelli. The relationship between Mr. Hardwick and Mrs. Restelli is unknown, and their simultaneous murder may be entirely coincidental.
Luigi Restelli was known to associate with an anarchist cell in Quincy, and a contemporaneous account in The New York Times suggests that the Quincy cell was under instructions from anarchist headquarters in Barre, Vt., to “kill rich people.” Numerous contemporaneous sources affirm the same account. The consensus for the motive behind the attacks seems to be “Madness” brought on by debt, and Restelli’s body was found in a nearby quarry pit following his suicide.
Interestingly, those infamous events are the first solid reference for anything dealing even remotely with the provenance of the tool cabinet ensemble. Yet those events have nothing to do directly with Studley or his cabinet, and tell us nothing new about the circumstances of its creation, the particulars by which it changed hands, nor even why it changed hands. But the events of that fateful day did cast the die for the chain of custody of the cabinet to this very day. Again, we do not know precisely when nor why it came into the Hardwicks’ possession, but we know where it went from then on.
With the murder of Henry Everett Hardwick, his son Charles Henry Hardwick (the first), a bachelor, inherited the family fortune and assets. This fortune eventually included the tool cabinet and workbench.
The detail of Charles Henry Hardwick’s bachelor status is critical to the story. It meant that on his death the progression of the family properties moved into the lineage of his brother Robert A. Hardwick, then down through Robert’s only son Charles Henry Hardwick II, Peter’s father, and then to Charles Henry “Hank” Hardwick III, Peter’s older brother. Hank was the family heir as the oldest son of his generation, and so inherited everything including the Studley tool cabinet. The final Hardwick steward of the tool cabinet was Charles Henry Hardwick II’s younger son Peter (thus not a primary heir), who owned it from the 1970s into the end of the 1990s.
Peter’s father, Charles Henry Hardwick II, died tragically and unexpectedly at the age of 44, predeceasing his own father.
Peter Hardwick’s earliest memories of the tool cabinet were in the 1950s when he was visiting his great-grandfather’s giant stone house in Quincy. The tool chest was displayed in the second-floor hallway next to the law office of his great uncle Charles, the older, bachelor brother of Peter’s grandfather Robert. The tool chest was protected behind a plastic panel. There it remained throughout Peter’s youth, adolescence and early adulthood, and in profound understatement he says, “It was very interesting to a little boy.”
Peter also recalls the workbench first being used as a table in the “stable-boy’s quarters above the garage” in Quincy and then the base alone used as an elegant dressing table in the mansion without the slab workbench top attached.
The Family Moves to Maine Peter joined the military in the 1960s, went to Vietnam and, “A lot happened [with family activities] during that time.” During Peter’s military service, his grandfather Robert and brother Hank sold the big house in Quincy and moved to property the family owned in Maine. They took everything from the Quincy house to Maine, including the tool cabinet and workbench, plus as much of the fine Studley handiwork from the granite house as they could move, including a number of fireplace surrounds. Two of those wound up in the farmhouse where Peter lives; the remaining examples were installed in grandfather Robert’s nearby house.
Unfortunately the space inside Peter Hardwick’s house is not conducive to an overall image of this magnificent Studley-made architectural detail. The lower portion is included in Sandor Nagyszalanczy’s original image of the cabinet. The image was edited for clarity and privacy.
Peter returned from the military and moved to Maine about 1970 where he worked on the family farm. The three men, Peter, Robert and Hank, lived on adjacent family properties in Maine.
When Peter’s grandfather Robert died in 1976, “Hank,” Peter’s older brother by three years, inherited the family properties and possessions, including the tool chest and workbench. Hank’s interests lay in other directions so the tool cabinet and workbench remained in storage in a family barn. All the while, Peter never forgot the captivating collection he remembered as a boy visiting his great-uncle’s law offices in the family home in Quincy.
Once the collection passed to the ownership of his brother, Peter urged him to “take care” and preserve the tool cabinet and contents. In the early 1970s Peter offered to purchase the tool cabinet and related accouterments, including the workbench, and as part of the transaction the brothers retained an antiques dealer to appraise it. The dealer pronounced the tool cabinet and its contents as “something special” and appraised it at $500.
Always (and still) a car buff, Peter owned a pristine 1934 Ford four-door sedan that was dark blue with low original mileage. Fortunately for our story, Hank was very much interested in the car and a deal was struck between thetwo brothers. Peter promptly made the trade and took possession of the tool cabinet and displayed it in his parlor for more than a decade.
The only place Peter Hardwick had where the tool cabinet could be displayed was inside his unused fireplace surround in the cottage parlor. Appropriately, the surround was some of Studley’s handiwork from the Quincy house. (Photo courtesy of Sandor Nagyszalanczy)
The Fan Frenzy Begins In the late 1980s Peter installed a new chimney in his home, and, in doing what guys do on such a momentous occasion, invited a friend over to show off his newly completed project. This friend, an insurance agent, saw the tool cabinet, recognized its special-ness and encouraged Peter to insure it. This event, Peter said, “Opened a can of worms!”
Peter tried to figure out exactly what it was that he had and how much to insure it for, and so he turned to Fine Woodworking, the Smithsonian and an antiques appraiser for answers. At Fine Woodworking magazine, Senior Editor Sandor Nagyszalanczy took the call and carries the memories vividly.
In early 1988, Nagyszalanczy made arrangements to go visit it during another scouting trip to Maine. When he opened the chest, it was, and I am quoting him, “Jaw dropping to floor!” He set up to take the photographs that eventually entered directly into our collective consciousnesses via the backcover of that magazine.
At that moment, Peter’s life of stewardship of the tool cabinet changed forever. In an age before e-mail, the result of that single back-cover image – and the ensuing posters – was an onslaught of actual “fan mail” for the tool cabinet that overwhelmed him. He received so much mail that he rented a dedicated post office box just for the unsolicited correspondence being forwarded to him by Fine Woodworking. Peter’s only regret from this period was that he did not save the fan mail.
The Smithsonian One of the correspondents was the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of American History Curator David Shayt. While on vacation, Shayt visited Peter and they struck up a fast friendship based initially on their mutual interest in the tool collection, but it soon evolved to reflect the fact that both men were affable and genuinely good guys.
At the time, Peter had a dilemma. He owned a family heirloom that was also a monumental piece of Americana, and he was concerned about its security and preservation in a simple Maine farmhouse. Shayt proposed a temporary solution. What if Peter loaned the tool cabinet to the Smithsonian for a 10-year period, during which the Smithsonian would bear all the responsibility for it? Once again, Peter reached an agreement to foster the care and preservation of a genuine national treasure, a theme that has touched him throughout his life.
While at the Institution the cabinet was conserved and exhaustively documented, and included in a small vignette adjacent to the exhibit “Engines of Change: The American Industrial Revolution 1790-1860,” with several other tool chests and cabinets for various trades. Though the larger exhibit lasted almost 20 years (late 1986 to mid-2006), the Studley tool cabinet was included for perhaps only a third of that time, probably from about 1992-1999. No doubt seen by thousands of woodworkers there, the Internet has numerous accounts of woodworkers who were captivated by it. I spoke recently with one visitor, a woodworker, who recalls it “being displayed a long way back from the glass, and in the dark.”
During the time of the Smithsonian possession, the collection was photographed and documented, and underwent a thorough cleaning and some conservation treatment, as well as being included in the small exhibit. Meanwhile, the torrent of fan mail kept coming, becoming even more of an avalanche with the issuing of the poster, then a Fine Woodworking article, a second edition of a poster and finally a third. The maelstrom of mail led Peter to reconsider his continued ownership of the collection.
And it was one of those letters that again changed the course of the Studley tool cabinet’s history.
Enter Mister Stewart Among those letters Peter received in the late 1990s was a polite and understated letter from Mister Stewart that expressed admiration for and interest inthe tool cabinet. After subsequent correspondence and conversations, Peter decided that Mister Stewart was the right person to become the new ownerand caretaker for the treasure.
Chapter 1 contains information on resawing the plane blank into the two cheeks and the midsection. It also shows how to determine which would become the front, back, top, and bottom of the blank, and how to mark these parts out with a cabinetmaker’s triangle.
Following are the remaining techniques for making hand planes. Also included is a list of the tools needed for these procedures.
Tools and Supplies Needed • Six-inch combination square • Protractor • Pencil • Block plane • Practice stock: straight-grained hardwood, about 18 inches long, 3/4 inch thick, and 3 inches wide • Dowels (5/16 x 2 inches) • Brad-point drill bit (5/16 inch) • Drill press or power hand drill • Dovetail saw or razor saw • Chisel (1/2 inch) • Clamping cauls: two pieces of 3/4-inch particleboard or plywood about 12 inches long and 3 inches wide • Router with a 1/2-inch guide bushing and 3/8-inch bit
Optional Tools and Materials • Double sticky tape—thin type for carpet • Plug cutter (5/16 inch) • Sanding drum (3-inch diameter)
Preparing the Glue Surfaces The plane blank has been resawn into the two cheeks and the midsection, and the front, back, top, and bottom have been marked. The next step is to smooth and flatten the adjacent surfaces of the cheeks and the midsection that eventually will be glued back together. With experience, hand tools quickly do the job: a plane can be used to smooth the surfaces or a scraper can be used to remove defects like raised lines left by a chips in the planer knives. Avoid hand-sanding because the outer margins tend to get rounded, which only accentuates the glue lines. Another option is to leave the surfaces as they are off the machine; the glue lines may be apparent once the plane is assembled, but it should hold together securely.
Laying Out and Sawing the Front and Back Blocks
Determine the position of the throat opening on the midsection and lay out the angles that when sawn will create the front and back blocks. A strong word of caution: The layout and cuts occur on the midsection; be sure to separate it from the cheeks before proceeding. The plane blank is ruined if the cheeks are sawn mistakenly.
The throat opening will be slightly more than halfway along the bottom of the mid-section, closer to the front end than the back. (If you feel stranded without precise measurements, a throat opening located five-ninths of the total length will do. To determine this, multiply the length of the blank times five, divide this number by nine, and measure that result from the back end of the blank.)The exact location is not critical, but why should the throat plate be in this area? One of the most demanding planing tasks is preparing boards for edge-joining. It requires precise control of the plane. The planing stroke begins at a stand still and ends with the plane in motion. With the throat opening forward of center, less of the sole of the plane is resting on the board when the blade begins its cut, but the plane is easy to control because it is motionless. Because of the throat opening placement, when the blade finishes its cut more of the sole will be in contact with the board, which helps you balance the plane while it is in motion.
4–2. A plane blank with front-and-back-block layout on the midsection.
From the point of the throat opening, lay out a 45-degree line angled back toward the rear of the plane. This defines the back block and the ramp that the plane iron will eventually rest upon. From the point of the throat opening, move forward about 1/16 inch and draw a line angling to the front of the plane at 62 degrees. The center block is now divided into three sections: the back block, the triangular center section, which becomes scrap, and the front block, forming both the front of the throat opening and the front portion of the plane (4–2).
4–3. Finger clearance between the cross-pin and front block must be wide enough to conveniently extract jammed shavings.
The front block is angled at 62 degrees for several reasons. It’s about the steepest slope that gives sufficient clearance for shavings to exit between the front block and the cross-pin while allowing enough space for most people’s fingers to remove an occasional jammed shaving (4–3). If it were much steeper, the space between the cross-pin and front block would be so tight that if shavings collected and jammed there, removal would be an irritating task requiring a pencil point or needle-nose pliers.
4–4. An enlarged view of the throat opening. It widens as the bottom wears. The steeper the angle at the tip of the front block, the slower the process.
The angle can be made lower, but that may interfere with the shaping of shorter planes. Also, as the bottom of the plane wears, the throat opening widens; the lower the angle of the front block, the faster the widening occurs. One of our goals and one of the advantages of making your own plane is that the plane can have a very narrow throat opening (4–4); it pays to maintain this narrow opening as long as possible. Alternatively, the front block can be cut with a curve, keeping the angle steep at the throat opening and sweeping away in the vicinity of the cross-pin (4–5). This is a good solution. Still, I prefer a straight cut for the first plane because you can practice truing that cut before advancing to the critical job of truing the ramp of the back block, using the same techniques.
4–5. The curved front block increases finger clearance between it and the cross-pin.
Prepare the band saw for making the cuts along the angled lines by precisely squaring the blade to the table. The band saw may not seem the natural choice for this task over the table saw, but in actuality neither machine will make the cuts accurately enough. Making these angled cuts on short, thick stock feels dangerous with a table saw, and requires some setup time. I prefer to use the more benign band saw, carefully making the cuts freehand, and cleaning up the sawn surface to perfection with a block plane. Saw to the waste side of the lines—within the triangular area. Make the 45-degree cut first and don’t be concerned if the saw kerf nicks a bit of the 62-degree line (4–6). Save the triangular scrap.
4–6. The sawn-out front and back blocks.
Now clean up the cuts to produce smooth, square, and straight surfaces on both the front and back blocks. Use the block plane to do this. In experienced hands the task is completed in one or two minutes for each block. A complete novice may require half an hour for the first block and five or ten minutes for the second. This is time very well spent, for in the process you will have touched on almost all the skills needed for just about every other type of planing task. It is a challenging way to start off—trial by fire, if you will—but persevere and there will be great rewards.
4–7. Bottom view of a block plane. Set the cutting edge precisely parallel to the bottom of the plane.
Cleaning Up the Cuts – Adjusting the Block Plane The block plane must be tuned up and effectively sharpened for the work to proceed smoothly (see Chapters 2 and 3). Set the blade for a very fine cut with the blade protruding evenly across its width. Back off the blade until it does not protrude through the bottom. View the cutting edge from the back of the plane with the plane turned upside down. As you slowly bring the blade forward, see if the cutting edge is skewed in relation to the bottom of the plane; it should appear parallel (4–7). To make adjustments, pivot the blade, bringing one corner up and the other down, using the plane’s lateral adjuster. For some inexpensive block planes that lack adjusting mechanisms, the blade is brought forward and adjusted laterally by gently tapping the back of it with a two- to three-ounce hammer, and it is backed up by tapping the back edge of the plane itself (see Making an Adjusting Hammer on pages 102 and 103). The plane must be properly tensioned for this to work well (see Chapter 2). You will probably find it more precise to adjust the plane with a hammer even if it has a mechanical lateral adjuster.
4–8. The thumb is used to feel for the protruding cutting edge.
When the blade is nearly protruding, let your sense of touch guide the adjustments. Gently caress both sides of the throat opening with the pad of the thumb while bringing the blade forward (4–8). Both corners of the blade should simultaneously become barely discernible. If not, make lateral adjustments until the same amount of slight drag is felt on the thumb at both corners. If the throat opening is very fine, you will be very close to the final setting. If the throat is wide, the blade will most likely need to come out a bit further yet. That is because the pad of the thumb dips into the larger opening and can feel the blade before it actually extends beyond the bottom of the plane.
Final Adjustments Begin a stroke on the practice stock. If the blade thunks against the wood and you feel yourself tensing to shove it through, stop: the blade is out too far. Though it is difficult to suppress the urge, there is no need to continue; the only likely result is damage to the planed surface, be it a serious dig or planing it out of true. Back the blade up and try again.
Ideally, the first stroke should either produce no shavings or take the smallest bit, requiring little if any effort to slide the plane across the wood. The shaving should be so thin that it falls apart and is almost dusty. This is because the jointed surface of the wood is not smooth, but slightly scalloped by the action of the jointer cutters; the blade hits the high points of each scallop and misses the low. Always adjust the depth of cut in this fashion, progressing from no shaving to a very thin shaving to the final setting. In this way, you will eliminate accidental digs and the frustrations of dealing with them.
To produce a shaving of equal thickness across its width requires setting the lateral adjustment of the blade exactly. The blade edge must be perfectly parallel to the bottom of the plane. This is crucial; if not done properly, it is very difficult to adequately true or polish a surface. When the blade takes a deeper bite from one side of a surface, either each subsequent pass dips it lower and lower or that corner of the blade may leave a prominent dig.
4–9. Planing with the left edge of the blade.
To check the lateral blade setting, take two shavings, first utilizing only the left side of the blade, and then only the right. The plane is held flat on the practice stock but offset to the left, and then the right, rather than planing right down the middle of the stock (4–9 and 4–10). Compare the thickness of the two shavings and be sensitive to the amount of resistance you feel; it takes more effort to produce a thicker shaving. You may find that one side takes a small bite and the other side produces nothing. Adjust the blade in the direction of the lesser cut and try again, until the resistance feels identical when planing with either corner of the blade. It may also be necessary to readjust the depth of cut.
4–10. Planing with the right edge of the blade.
The shavings are of the proper thickness when they lose their “woodiness” or stiffness; instead they feel fluffy and soft when bunched together, like a cotton ball (4–11). Practice your stroke (see below) until continuous shavings can be consistently made from one end of the practice stock to the other. If the board gets out of true from the initial efforts, true it with the jointer; otherwise, it’s difficult to produce a continuous, thin shaving.
4–11. “Cottony” shavings on the left; “woody” shavings on the right.
With only a little experience, peeking at the throat opening and stroking your thumb across it will reveal almost all that is needed to know to set the blade properly. Practice stock becomes unnecessary. It takes just a few minor adjustments as you begin planing to set the blade; this is done without a second thought and with no time lost.
Our new storefront is fully up and running these days – and one of the benefits of visiting us in Covington is the opportunity to shop our Seconds Shelf (which is the Boarded Bookcase from “The Anarchist‘s Design Book“).
On it go all of the books and tools that aren’t quite perfect – items we can’t sell at full price. Maybe we spilled coffee on the pages. Maybe a cover was put on upside down at the bindery, or a few pages got folded incorrectly at assembly. Or the post service damaged the book in shipping. Or we dinged a hammer head while seating the wedge. This is all good stuff – readable and usable…just a wee bit blemished.
As a result of this less-than-perfection, these books, tools and accouterments are priced well below their usual retail price…and you have to visit us to get them. We can’t ship them. We’d lose money if we did…and not only because of the packing and shipping cost, but the human cost in keeping on top of online listings and the like. There is usually no more than one or two of any given title/item, and it would be prohibitively person expensive/time consuming to deal with listing them online.
So I’m afraid you’ll have to come to 407 Madison Ave., Covington, Ky., 41011 to partake. Bonus: You get to see us, and hang out for a while in our beautiful river city!
Store hours are currently Monday-Wednesday-Friday from 10 a.m.-2 p.m.
– Fitz
p.s. About those store hours: I regularly receive emails with special requests to come in early/late or on an unscheduled day. I beg you to please stop sending those. While we might change the hours in the future, for now, these are the hours. In our other hours, we are writing/editing books, building something in the shop, making tools, spending time with friends and family, communing with our cats….
