From W.H.C., Tenn.–I inclose you here with a sketch of my clamp bench for clamping doors, sash, blinds or any other work that requires to be held in the same general manner. I have been using a bench of this description for some 24 years, and have found it quite satisfactory. It is made of hard oak, well seasoned and well put up. The size of stuff or clamp is 3 x 5 inches. The height is 2 feet, and of course may be made to any length required. A tenon on the end of the top of bench is made to go through the jaw, in order to keep the latter from working either right or left. A groove extends lengthwise of the top one-half inch deep and 1 inch wide, in which a tongue on the slide fits. The strap of the slide is made of eighth inch by 1 ¼-inch iron, with half-inch round iron pins riveted in. The small sketch shows the general construction of the slide.
The discovery of an intact 18th-century joinery shop in Duxbury, Mass., set off a storm of interest last year in the small outbuilding behind a school.
Now, months after the discovery, preservationists and employees at Colonial Williamsburg have begun to piece together the interesting story of the site, to document every peg and nail and take the first steps toward stabilizing and preserving the building.
This week I took a tour of the site with Michael Burrey, the restoration carpenter who discovered the shop while working nearby, and Peter Follansbee, the joiner at Plimoth Plantation.
The working area of the shop is about the size of a single-car garage, yet almost every inch of the room is packed with clues about the work that was done in the shop, the tools that were in use and how they were stored. There is so much detail to see that after two hours of rooting around, my senses were overloaded and there was still much more to see.
As a workbench enthusiast, I was quite interested in poring over the benches that lined three walls of the shop, creating a U-shaped ring of working sufaces along the outer wall.
The benches were all fixed to the structure of the building. I haven’t written much about this style of bench. These fixed benches seem to first appear in the 15th century as best I can tell (see the evidence here). These fixed benches exist at the same time as the typically freestanding Roman-style workbench. Eventually the Roman benches disappear (though not entirely in Eastern Europe), and are replaced by the movable forms we are familiar with now.
The benches in the Sampson shop have seen so much use that the bench along the back wall had been recovered with a new benchtop – you can feel the old mortise for the planning stop by feeling under the benchtop. None of the benches had end vises or even dog holes. There are planning stops and a couple huge holes that may have been for some metalworking equipment, Burrey says. There was at least one leg vise.
Dendrochronolgy on one of the benches indicates the top was pitch pine from 1786, Burrey says. That lines up nicely with the 1789 date painted on a beam in the storage area outside the shop door.
The shop was known in the area as a shingle shop, but it’s likely that a lot of other things went on there. One of the benches has been converted to a lathe, with a large metal wheel above it. The original owner of the shop, Luther Sampson, was (among other things) a planemaker, Burrey says.
Sampson was one of the founders of the Kents Hill School in Maine. And the school has some of his tools and the name stamp he used to mark his planes. Burrey also indicates that they have found shelves in the shop that were likely scarred by moulding planes set there.
Other tool marks suggest some other operations. Along the back wall, Burrey suspects that bench was used for crosscutting. The area is under a window. Right above the bench the wall is pierced with hundreds of jab marks from a marking awl. Above that is an unusual rack that would hold try squares. And the back wall looks like it has been hit by the tip of a backsaw repeatedly.
In fact, every square inch of surface seems to hold some message. There are bits of old newspaper pasted in places. The shapes of sailing ships are scratched into the walls with a nail or awl. A hatted figure is painted on one of the shop doors. And inside that painting is a series of concentric scratches made by a compass.
Empty tool racks are everywhere, many of them elegantly chamfered.
Burrey and Follansbee are cautious about making any firm declarations about how the shop was used.
“We’re just looking at ghosts here,” Follansbee says.
Follansbee is correct. The place is haunted. Like many unrestored old places you can still feel the heavy presence of the work that went on inside the walls. And now the really heavy work begins for the people who are not ghosts: Figuring out how to stabilize and preserve the building.
I don’t have any insight into the status of that end of the project. If I hear of any news, I’ll report it here.
A Minnesota inventor, Andrew Anderson of Crookston, Minn., has devised a portable tool chest which also serves as a workbench. It consists of two parts which can be hinged together, side by side or back to back. If the chest is to be used as a workbench, the two parts, securely fastened together, are raised to the proper height by foldable, firmly braced supports. These legs are hinged to the body of the chest and give sufficient stability to the bench for any ordinary work, like sawing, planing or sandpapering.
One of the parts has two large drawers for saws, planes, and other large tools. The other has three drawers for smaller tools, sandpaper, and light hardware, including screws, nails, brads, hinges, staples, etc. (more…)
A long time ago when I was married, David Charlesworth, Tom Lie-Nielsen and Chris came over for libations. Near the end of the evening, Tom suggested we move the 8′ long Nicholson bench Chris had made into my basement shop. David assured us it would not fit, and to prove his point he walked away when disaster began.
David was right. The bench did not fit, and I had to remove a wall to get it around a corner and into the shop. Fast-forward a number of years and due to some legal issues I was required to remove the bench from the basement. Let me interject that I will never ever have a basement workshop again. Never!
The rebuilt wall was 3″ too wide, and again the bench didn’t fit up the stairs. Because the Nicholson bench doesn’t come apart, I had to saw down the legs. I wanted to destroy the wall again, but with a former spouse videoing the condition of the wall before I got there and having an attorney on speed dial I figured it best to saw. It was so fun cutting some off the legs that I did it again. Seems like the only thing I did right that day was to keep the off-cuts.
Recently, I repaired the bench. The Dominos worked great, although they were a little tricky because the cross members that support the legs prevented me from using the plate to register the cutter. I had to do some exact measuring that didn’t work in one instance. I just glued in a domino then flush-cut it and started again. The mending plates were added for extra strength. All is now right with the world. I have the bench upright and working and converted the dining room into a workshop.
The village joiners outside their shop in Eschelbronn, Germany – May 1911.
Which tool will you choose to identify with for your next group portrait? Will it be the try square or the jointer plane? Or will you be in the bathroom when the photographer arrives and wind up holding the glue pot because all the cool tools were taken?
Adam Kaiser and his Journeymen – Joiners from Eschelbronn, Germany – 1882
(from left to right starting with the back row)
Konrad Grab, Johann Rumig, ? Kirsch, Adam Kaltenbrunner, Christian Wolff, Adam Lenz, Jacob Steiß, Christoph Canz, Adam Kaiser junior, Adam Kaiser senior, Georg Wilhlm Kirsch, Wilhelm Echner, Johannes Filsinger.
