With sonorous stentorian solemnity I say to myself, “It is in, it is in.”
The complete draft of “To Make As Perfectly As Possible: Roubo on Marquetry” – 94,000 words of translated Roubo, 350 Roubo illustrations, 15,000 Donwords and well over a hundred photographic images (actually I submitted about a thousand to select from) – now resides on the desk of Monsieur Christophe du Schwarz. The end is still a long way off, but this is a huge hurdle for everyone involved.
There will be corrections. There will be additions. There will be subtractions. But now we know that there is definitely a light at the end of the tunnel. Let’s hope it is not an oncoming train.
I just spent my first Roubo-free weekend since I can remember. It was very, very nice. I built a Japanese planing beam from a perfect 8×10 southern yellow pine timber out at my mountain-side Fortress of Solitude, listening to a college-level course on Austrian Economic Theory punctuated by the angelic voices of Eva Cassidy, Alison Krauss, and Jennifer Warnes. Now that is self indulgent escapism at its best.
Once Chris and Wesley Tanner, the book’s designer, and everyone else at that end of the rope get their hands on it, my nose will be back to the grindstone.
Currently I am reveling in the first glimpses of the 90 percent of our second Roubo volume that has been translated. (Waiting until now for this treat has been perhaps my second greatest exhibition of self control, the first of course being the time I was all alone with a prominent and particularly loathsome politician and refraining from wringing his scrawny chicken neck.) It is very, very good, but I have come to expect nothing less from Andre Jacob’s text and Michele’s translations. Reading deliberately through the recitation on the iconic bench of Plate 11 is a long passage I am savoring, and I expect you probably will too.
In one sense this second volume will be easier, as we are now in full groove, but in another it will be more difficult because of 1) the esoteric jargon-laced verbiage – it is mostly about tools, after all (as one note from Michele exclaimed, “Philippe, help! I don’t even l know what these things are called in English.”), and 2) the sheer scale of it. Like Chris’ Roubo holdfast which could double as an anchor for a large ship, this volume will be huge. For example, the main chapter on tools and techniques will run almost 250 pages in illustrated translation. All tolled, :To Make As Perfectly As Possible: Roubo on Furniture Making” will be about 60 percent larger than the marquetry book. I could not see Chris when I told him that, but he might have reached for the antacids immediately thereafter.
I know this is just the calm before the storm, when the editorial process reaches through the ether and grabs me by the throat. But for now, it feels pretty good.
I’ve been traveling with tool chests since 1997, and so I have found their weak points. Or, to be more precise and passive in voice, their weak points have been found by elevators, loading docks and falls to the concrete.
Here is a list of parts that take a beating.
1. The bottom rim of the plinth. Even if you have casters on the bottom of your chest, the plinth gets dragged over concrete blocks, door jambs and the like. My latest chest, which is only 18 months old, looks like a spastic 5-year-old attacked it with a rasp.
2. Speaking of casters, this is also a weak point of a chest. Simply screwing casters into the carcase is no good. As soon as the caster drops into a hole, it gets ripped off the case. The best solution is to bolt the casters through the bottom boards. Yes, it’s a pain and it’s ugly, but it works.
3. The lid. Oh the poor lid. Its top corners get wacked by all manner of things. Lumber gets stacked on it. People sit on it and make rude noises with their bottoms. TV stars stand upon it to speechify as if it were filled with soap.
To remedy problems No. 1 and No. 3, I’m adding steel plate to the rim of the plinth and the lid. This is mild steel, and 1/8” x 1” x 4’ strips cost about $5 at the hardware store. Last night I rabbeted the lid’s dust seal and plinth – the entire process took about 30 minutes with a rabbet plane.
I’m going to attach the steel to the chest using slotted steel screws. I have found an outstanding source for these that I will write about this weekend.
• “Mouldings in Practice” shipped today from the Michigan printing plant. If history and the trucking industry hold constant, we should receive the books on Monday. Today we received our order of 1,000 boxes, a case of industrial tape and 1,000 mailing labels (guard cat not included). We are ready to mail.
• We still have about 25 open orders for “Chisel, Mallet, Plane and Saw.” The books are on the way from the author, and we apologize for the delay. As soon as the books arrive (Saturday or Monday) we will dispatch your order.
• We have restocked on Lost Art Press T-shirts and have all the sizes in stock. Those of you who are waiting for T-shirts in size large will be getting your shirts soon. I’m headed down to mail them in a few minutes.
• And for those of you who have ordered a custom Roorkhee Chair: The legs are roughed out and I’ll turn them tomorrow.
More news to come next week, including a new book project and something else. I have not been drinking enough beer to tell you what that is. Sorry.
TOOL chests are still in constant demand: if not frequently, at least steadily. It is curious, too, that no matter what the woodworker may subsequently execute, nothing affords him greater pleasure than the making of a really good tool chest for his own use. The one shown here makes no claim to being a work of art. Its two merits are its all-round usefulness and its lasting strength.
From Fig. 1 (and more particularly from the sectional elevation, Fig. 2) it will be seen that there are three drawers, or tills (A, B, G), which slide forwards and backwards on runners. The top drawer has a hinged lid (D). The saw till (E) slides up and down inside the front of chest, At Fig. 2 it is shown slightly raised.
The carcase may be of clean white deal. Yellow pine would of preferable, but the price may be considered prohibitive. The fittings of the original chest described were of mahogany, the inside of the lid being veneered. Plain hardwood used for the fittings must be of the best quality. The over-all measurements suggested are about 3 ft. long by 1 ft. 9 ins. wide, and about 1 ft. 10 ins. high to top of lid. These sizes are approximate, and, after the worker determines his carcase length, width and height, the other parts can be made accordingly.
For the front and back two pieces (approximately 3 ft. by 1 ft. 8 ins., and 3/4 in. thick) will be jointed up to obtain the width. For the ends two pieces about 1 ft. 9 ins. by 1 ft. 8 ins. (also 3/4 in. thick) are required. These four sides, after squaring up, are dovetailed together, the dovetail pins being about 2-1/2 ins. apart. Before glueing, trench both ends to take a length of stuff 4 ins. by 1/2 in. (F, Fig. 2). This forms compartment G (Fig. 2) for moulding and beading planes.
The bottom, which will be screwed on, is of 3/4 in. tongued and grooved boards, the boards running from back to front of the chest (not lengthways). Level the edges and mitre and sprig on the bottom plinth (H), 4-1/2 ins. high, with a 1/2 in. ovolo moulding. The top plinth (J), 2-1/2 ins. wide, can be similarly fixed, keeping it down 1/2 in. from top edge.
Around the top edge of chest it is wise to glue and sprig a mahogany slip, 3/4 in. by 1/2 in., mitred at the corners Level it inside and outside. A good lock will complete the carcase.
FITTINGS — These may of course be varied to suit individual requirements, but the suggestions here apply to the average kit. Reference has been made to the compartment G (Fig. 2) for moulding planes. Alongside this is a larger compartment (K) for bench planes. For covering these compartments a sliding board is provided (L, Fig. 2). This board will be 10 ins. wide by 1/2 in. thick, and should be clamped at both ends to prevent twisting. When drawn to the front of the chest it covers the compartment K. To provide a bottom runner for this sliding board, two pieces (preferably of mahogany) in. square are glued and sprigged to the ends (see M, Fig. 3). These, standing 9 ins. from the bottom, are stopped 2 ins. from the front of chest to allow for the rising saw till (E).
The three drawers (or tills) are seen in Fig. 2 and enlarged in Fig. 3. For the bottom runners of the third till (C) two pieces 1-1/2 ins. by 1/2 in. are required (N, Fig. 3). They are screwed to the edges of two pieces 3-1/2 ins. by 7/8 in., which in turn are screwed to the ends of chest above the sliding board, allowing the latter freedom to slide to and fro. Above these, two pieces 3 ins. by 5/8 in. are similarly fastened. Fig. 3 makes this clear. All the runners must stop exactly 2 ins. from front of chest to allow the saw till to be inserted.
THE TILLS (Fig. 3) are 8 ins. wide and respectively 2-1/2 ins., 3 ins. and 3-1/2 ins. deep, dovetailed together, the lap-dovetail being used on the fronts. For the fronts 1/2 in. mahogany is an advantage; the sides, backs and bottoms may be of good white deal, finishing at 3/8 in. The bottoms are not grooved in; the till fronts are rebated and the bottoms screwed on, the screws being countersunk. The upper till may have a 3/8 in. or 1/2 in. mahogany top, hinged to open as a lid. The top till may be divided into four equal compartments, the second into three and the bottom one into two.
SAW TILL (see E, Fig. 2). — This is really a shallow tray (2 ins. deep, outside measurement) fitted vertically. It runs the entire length (inside), but is 1/2 in. less than the height of the chest. In Fig. 2 the till is shown slightly raised. In it are hung, by means of slots and turn-buttons. the hand, tenon and dovetail saws and the large square. The top should be of mahogany, 3/4 in. net, the remainder being of white deal. The back may be grooved in. The drawer runners hold the saw till in position.
LID — If to be veneered inside as suggested, the lid should be of good yellow pine, free from knots, 7/8 in. thick net (deal is of too resinous a nature to take kindly to veneer). It should be clamped at both ends to prevent twisting, and then squared up to about 1/16 in. larger than the chest all round, to allow for subsequent fitting. It is now toothed on the inside, and a piece of curly Spanish mahogany veneer laid to within about 2-3/4 ins. from the edges. When dry, the veneer can be cut all round with the cutting gauge set to 3 ins., and the waste removed. Next, with the compass set to 2-1/2 ins., mark off the comers, cut with a sharp penknife, and remove the veneer; this can easily be done with a chisel after the application of a hot smoothing-iron. The margin is of walnut veneer, crossbanded, i.e., the grain running the short way, butted up against the mahogany veneer; the comer pieces are made in two mitres. If preferred, the comers may be left square, and the margin simply mitred.
When dry, the veneers can be cleaned off, and the lid properly fitted; it is then hung with three strong brass butt-hinges. A rim is mitred round the edge of lid to shut down on the top plinth; the joint may be broken by a 1/8 in. bead.
It only remains to have the inside of the lid and all mahogany parts french polished, and the white wood stained mahogany colour. Small knobs can be fitted to the three drawers and saw-till.
It seems advisable to make clear at the outset the fact that this is not a book telling how to transform some object that is no longer wanted into some other object that has even less excuse for existence. In its pages will be found no formula or design for making a goldfish tank out of an orange crate, or a Turkish tabouret out of a sardine tin and two broomsticks. What it does attempt is to bring back something of the self-reliant craftsman of early America, when a man’s chief pride and satisfaction lay in his ability to practice any or all of the common crafts.
— Henry H. Saylor, “Tinkering with Tools” (1924, Little, Brown & Co.)
