Registration is now open to take a 2-day spoon carving class, August-8-9, in our Covington, Ky. shop with JoJoWood. Click through the link to find out more and to register.
— Fitz
On Sale Now: Spoon Carving w/JoJo Wood
Michael Cooper’s Strange Planet
The following is excerpted from “The Difference Makers” by Marc Adams. Since 1993, Adams has invited hundreds of the best craftspeople to teach at his woodworking school in Franklin, Ind., which has grown to become the country’s (if not the world’s) largest. Every year, Adams has expanded the school and brought in a different mix of new instructors and veteran ones. As a result, he has figured out who is the best. He’s seen their work. He’s seen them at work. This excerpt features Michael Cooper – craftsman, sculptor, and inventor of impossible things.
Michael Cooper has been fooling around with wood and metalworking since he was a kid and has never stopped. He has a degree in commercial art from San Jose State College (now San Jose State University) and an M.F.A. in sculpture from the University of California, Berkeley. He has taught drawing, 3D design, furniture design and sculpture at several California colleges for 34 years. He is a superb teacher who is revered by students and colleagues alike, but in 2005 he decided to shift from teaching to totally focusing on his artwork.
He has won numerous awards and grants throughout the years, including a Fellowship in Sculpture awarded by the American Academy in Rome (Italy), and a Craftsmen’s Fellowship Grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. In 1993, he was presented with the President’s Award for Outstanding Service at De Anza College. His work is on display at several museums and public displays, including the Art Gallery of Western Australia, the Oakland Museum of California, Queen Victoria Museum & Art Gallery, and the Sam and Alfreda Maloof Foundation for Arts and Crafts. His work has been featured in books, magazines and newspapers around the world.
Recently the Museum of Craft and Design in San Francisco did a retrospective on Michael’s work titled “A Sculptural Odyssey, 1968-2011.” This led to a book written about his life as a teacher, artist and sculptor. Michael is a master at bending wood and adding odd bits and pieces together to make unique sculptures that are collected by patrons around the world.
On the Professional Side
Michael’s biggest initial career transition was deciding to leave the commercial art profession and switch to making sculptures in the late 1960s. He wasn’t sure what direction his new vocation would take, but he was excited about the prospects.
He returned to San Jose State College and began working on his Master of Fine Arts. There Michael met instructor Sam Richardson, who encouraged him to start checking out gallery shows in the San Francisco area. These shows featured all kinds of art, including sculpture. Although Michael knew little about contemporary sculpture, the more shows he attended the more he developed a passion for creating three-dimensional objects.
San Jose State College had a large art department in the mid-1960s, and new materials and processes were being explored, including fiberglass, polyfoam and lacquer. During that time, John Battenberg and Fletcher Benton, both commercially successful artists, joined the faculty. Fletcher eventually became a mentor to Michael and gave him the encouragement to continue to pursue his sculptural work. But the real awakening came when a friend paid Michael’s way to the Los Angeles milestone exhibition “American Sculpture of the Sixties,” a national survey of the best contemporary sculpture at that time. This exhibition opened Michael’s eyes to what was possible in contemporary sculpture and encouraged him to explore areas that were unknown.
“I am, for the most part, self-taught,” he says. “I had always been good with exploring new techniques but needed direction in the area of theme. I found what I needed in kinetic sculpture.”
His early works used a variety of materials including wood, aluminum, steel, motors, magnets, gearing and electrical components. In 1969, Michael finished his Master of Fine Arts degree at U.C. Berkeley and immediately began teaching art classes at Foothill College while continuing to make and show his own works, which were mostly kinetic sculptures.
Photo by Michael Chase
In 1975, Michael shifted gears from kinetic sculpture to working exclusively with wood using bent lamination techniques as a form of sculpture. That year he made three pieces: “Captain’s Chair,” “Soapbox Racer” and “Music Stand.” His work was well received, which inspired Michael to continue to explore wood laminations with organic forms.
In 1976, he started the “Gun Series,” and in 1977 was subsequently given a Society for the Encouragement of the Contemporary Arts (SECA) Award, which included a one-person show at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. One of the best things to happen during that hectic year of preparing for the San Francisco show was that he met his soon-to-be wife, Gayle Stetter.
The late 1970s were exciting times for Michael. After the SECA award, he received a monetary grant from the National Endowment for the Arts. In 1979, he was awarded a fellowship from the Crafts Council of Australia. This grant was titled “Craftsman in Industry” and led to Michael creating sculpture in two furniture factories, as well as lecturing at various colleges, crafts and industry groups.
Following the Australian grant, Michael traveled to Rome on a fellowship at the American Academy in Rome. Here he was given a year to explore his work among other fellows and the historic art of Italy.
Photo by Michael Chase
Though Michael was a big part of the San Francisco Bay area art scene, his sales were always sporadic. Fortunately, that is where teaching became handy to help support his work. In 1977, he left Foothill College for De Anza College in Cupertino, Calif. There he taught sculpture, drawing, 3D design and furniture design. Teaching became a rewarding career, and for 35 years he enjoyed his connection with his students. In 1981, he married Gayle, and the two moved to Sebastopol, Calif.
In 1986, Michael and Gayle bought an 81⁄2-acre slice of heaven with meadows, trees and a seasonal creek, with the thought of someday building and living on that property. The first building was Michael’s new studio. For the next 21⁄2 years they camped on the property while they designed and built the house. At first there was no water, electricity or sealed roof. In time they ran water lines and electrical, and sealed the roof.
Before they moved into their new house, Michael began exploring sculpture that included the human figure. “This was a huge departure for me and was spurred on by my time at the American Academy in Rome and the historic art on location,” he says. This new type of sculpture led Michael to build a room-sized 3D replicator. Although this huge machine didn’t achieve the final perfect finish, it did remove a lot of the excess material before the final finesse could take place in his work.
In 1993, Michael’s father died of a heart attack, which devastated him. This eventually led to a huge diversion in his work. “I stopped making art after my father’s death and bought a rough 1933 Ford pickup. I had been interested in hot rods since I was very young. I started modifying the basic body, and what had seemed a simple project soon became another art project.” He called the rebuilt pickup truck “Tubester.” The hot rod endeavor was just what he needed. Michael considers that project to be an epiphany in the overall artistic direction of his work by incorporating metal fabrication and machining, and a return to drawing and designing on paper.
The making of Tubester also involved the magazine Street Rodder, which documented the project through 20 construction articles. It took 81⁄2 years to complete the project, and since 2001 the Tubester has been shown extensively. This was the project that led to more commissions that continue to help fund his ongoing work.
In 2008, Michael received a Windgate Fellowship Grant through the Museum of Craft and Design in San Francisco. The project Michael pursued was a survey of his sculpture during a 40-year period. Select pieces from his body of work have traveled to the Bellevue Arts Museum in Bellevue, Wash., the Fuller Craft Museum in Brockton, Mass., and the Museum of Craft and Design in San Francisco for the final showing.
In 2016, Michael was selected to be an American Craft Council Master Fellow, which is an artist’s dream award. Michael continues to build and design in Sebastopol, Calif.
On the Personal Side
I have seen a real live planetary transport machine, I’m sure of it. Because it’s the only way Michael Cooper can get back and forth to whatever planet he comes from. He is way too talented, innovative, creative, skillful, original, crazy, witty and flat-out ingenious to come from anywhere on earth – except California. Oh guess what, he’s from the middle of that state.
When you consider his vast body of work, it becomes easy to forget that he had a real job of teaching and his sculptural work was a side line. From 1969 to 2004, he taught full time at the college level. He is a superb teacher, admired by students, respected by his colleagues and one of the crowning jewels for MASW. His first workshop was the summer of 2008, when he co-taught a class on bending wood. He arrived a few days early to unload about 50 pounds of air grinding tools along with several examples of his work. It was also the first time I had ever met someone from another planet; surprisingly he looked like any other earthling.
Photo by Michael Chase
Afraid he might vaporize students, I decided to be on hand for his first day of lecturing, just in case I needed to contact the Men in Black. His first demo was to take hundreds of veneer strips, put glue between each layer, and then twist them into some alien shape. The next day when he removed the clamps every piece fell on the floor – the glue failed. Turns out the glue we had purchased had an inaccurate date label, which made for a great teachable moment. This also proved that he really is human.
Since then, Michael has taught several workshops at MASW and no matter what other workshops are taking place, he always steals the show. Not because he has the kind of personality that sucks the wind out of the building, but because his method of work is so mesmerizing it just begs an audience. I once asked him about how he prepares for a lecture and he told me that he first tries to calm his stomach. It turns out he gets nervous when he lectures. Imagine that a man of his talent, who has made his living as a teacher, still finds intimidation in standing in front of a group – proof again that he is human.
John Lavine, former editor of Woodwork Magazine, once wrote “surveying a roomful of Michael Cooper’s sculpture, a viewer can easily be overwhelmed by the riotous profusion of materials and shapes. But after your eyes have settled on any of the myriad of details in this work, the question that inevitably follows is: How did he do that?” The answer is simple: He’s a master of any material he touches. Metals, plastics, woods and any variety of found objects are like clay in his hands, capable of any shape he desires.
Yes, he is a genius “maker” with skill unlimited. His work is deeply complex and sometimes dysfunctional. Often it seeks to make a social statement; other times it reflects the life of growing up in the California hot-rod culture. His work involves impeccable craftsmanship, both technically and conceptually, and woodworkers everywhere are in awe of his skill. Both Michael Hosaluk and Michael Fortune have posters of Michael Cooper’s work hanging in their shops. That says something.
I’ve had the pleasure to get to know Michael on a personal basis. He is a soft-spoken pacifist who loves to make things that cause us to think. Michael says, “For adults, I would like them to look at a piece and enjoy trying to figure it out: OK, what does this do?” And: “Oh, I see. This does that.” When looking at his work, which spans nearly 50 years, it’s easy to see how he continues to push himself both through his skill and his designs. It’s like he is in competition with himself, always trying to outperform his last work. That drive keeps him young at heart and always on the move (from one planet to the next).
– Marc Adams
Closing Out ‘The Art of Joinery’
With the publication of Joseph Moxon’s “Mechanick Exercises or the Doctrine of Handy-Works” we now have two books with significant overlap in their content.
“The Art of Joinery” contains Moxon’s chapters on joinery, plus modern commentary. “Mechanick Exercises” contains all of Moxon’s chapters on handcrafts (including the joinery chapters). But no modern commentary.
To reduce confusion and make our lives simpler, here is what we are going to do. We are taking “The Art of Joinery” out of print and giving away its content for free via pdf (much like “The Anarchist’s Workbench”) to everyone. You can download “The Art of Joinery” pdf free via this link. You don’t have to register or give up your email or anything. Just click and the pdf will download to your computer.
We have also reduced the price of the hardcover “The Art of Joinery” book to $20 (it was $31). When we sell out of the current stock, we will not reprint it. So if you ever wanted a physical copy of this book, this is the last chance to get it from us.
We hope this reduces any confusion about which book to buy. It makes us happier because we don’t want to sell you the same content twice. Plus it is one fewer SKU for us to manage in our warehouse.
— Christopher Schwarz
A Visit to Pittsburgh in the First Quarter of the 19th Century
Early visitors to the new western cities of America were willing to travel by coach, wagon, horseback, boats and on foot to see and report on the westward growth of their new and independent country. They kept detailed diaries and turned their experiences into published travelogues. A minister would include the social aspects of the settlements, whereas an engineer would take note of the topography, soil conditions and geology. Publishers of almanacs and directories recorded annual growth of population, commerce and manufacturing.
Pittsburgh was, as an early traveler from Boston noted, the “key to the Western Territory.” This was especially true for travelers from New England, New York and the Mid-Atlantic states, for Pittsburgh was the stopping point to resupply and get repairs before continuing their overland westward journeys. Once steamboat travel was available, Pittsburgh was the embarkation point to begin a trip on the Ohio River and onward to the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers.
David Thomas (1776-1859) was a Quaker from Cayuga County in western New York. Traveling by horseback, he departed his home in the summer of 1816 on a trip that would ultimately take him to western parts of the Indiana Territory. He kept a diary and made note of the geology, agriculture, wildlfe, commerce and industry he observed during his travels. His notes and observations were published in 1819. He arrived in Pittsburgh around June 7, 1816, and described it as such:
Wraught Nails to Cut Nails
The new towns and cities of the “Western Country” needed a huge supply of well-made nails and they needed them fast. By 1807 there were four nail factories, all worked by hand. In 1811 Charles Cowen opened a slitting and rolling mill that included the manufacturing of nails. By 1814, the Pittsburgh Iron & Nail Factory was owned by William Stackpole and Ruggles Whiting, both originally from the Boston area. Their factory was steam powered and they installed Jacob Perkins’ patented cut nail machines. Thomas visited the Stackpole & Whiting rolling mill and nail manufactory and observed the manufacture of cut nails.
Jacob Perkins invented the nail machine in 1790 and patented it in 1795. His invention was reportedly able to cut 500 nails per minute.
An advertisement in a Lexington, Kentucky, newspaper, circa 1815, for goods from the Pittsburgh Iron & Nail Factory.
The Stackpole & Whiting mill was located at the corner of Penn Street and Cecil Avenue. In 1818 they bought steamboats at foreclosure and began to build their own boats. They went into bankruptcy in 1819 and relocated their boatbuilding business to Louisville, Kentucky. The rolling mill was later taken over by Richard Bowen.
The Mechanic’s Retreat
In 1815 an outlet tract (land cleared for farming) across the river in Allegheny Town was subdivided and developed as a residential area for workers employed by some of the early industries located a short distance away along the banks of the Ohio River. The area was bounded by Pasture Lane (now Brighton Road) and the North Commons (now North Avenue). The houses were modest in an otherwise undeveloped rural setting. Mechanics Retreat Park, at the corner of Buena Vista and Jacksonia streets, is a small remnant of the original development.
Also in 1815, Mr. James Jelly opened a three-story steam-powered factory for the carding, spinning and weaving of cotton. The next year an advertisement for a different kind of Mechanic’s Retreat ran in a local newspaper.
The Quality of Local Goods
Thaddeus M. Harris, a Unitarian minister from Boston, along with several companions, left his home in the spring of 1803 to visit the territory northwest of the Allegheny Mountains. His party arrived in Pittsburgh on April 15. After experiencing an eight-day journey over the mountains he remarked about the expense of moving goods overland from Philadelphia and Baltimore. The expense of transporting heavy goods, such as furniture, might cost more than that of the furniture.
As the business class gained wealth they sought to furnish their homes with high-style furniture as was made in Philadelphia and Baltimore. Skilled craftsmen from both cities, as well as those from other cities and towns on the Atlantic Seaboard, moved to the new western cities seeking the same opportunities as other new settlers. In 1803 Harris noted the quality and woods used to make furniture.
Fourteen years later, Cramer’s Magazine Almanac of 1817 provides more detail about the types of furniture being made. One indication of the growing wealth of some customers, and cabinet makers, was the use of mahogany for furniture. Mahogany was transported by steamboat from New Orleans, a river distance of almost 2,000 miles.
The Mechanics
Before city directories were published there were other publications touting the growth of the western cities. Matthew Carey’s American Museum, or Universal Magazine provides this accounting of the mechanics working in Pittsburgh in 1792:
Zadoc Cramer, publisher of an annual almanac, reported $33,900 worth of goods were made by the carpenters and furniture makers of Pittsburgh in 1803.
By 1810 Pittsburgh was established as a manufacturing center and the population was approximately 4740. The population grew to 8,000 in 1816 and to 9,000 in 1819 (the population in outlying areas was not always included). Pittsburgh was incorporated as a borough in 1816 and the following year a survey of the manufacturies operating in the city was commissioned. The account was published in the city directory fro 1819 (only woodworking and related trades are shown below:
Three cabinet makers had advertisements in the 1819 city directory. Joseph Barclays’s ad included a pointing finger (manicule) causing some irregular, although eye-catching, spacing. In the directory William Crawford’s ad was turned 90° sideways, a technique to allow more text and also to attract interest. Liggett’s ad includes an illustration and was likely the most expensive. The illustration has a roomful of furniture at the top, including a disassembled bedstead with headboard, posts and rails. Liggett was also offering mahogany furniture.
It can be difficult to determine how a 19th-century craftsman and his business fared. City directories were not published each year (especially in the earliest years of settlement) and some directories only listed householders. We do know not every person in a town was counted or listed.
A craftsman might move to an outlying area and have a thriving business and not be documented in the Pittsburgh directory. It also wasn’t uncommon for a craftsmen to move elsewhere for a better opportunities, to change to a different type of employment and there’s also the ever-present disease and death that ended a career. Efforts weren’t usually made to collect directories and other ephemera until decades later when copies might already be scarce.
Here’s what a quick search revealed about the cabinet makers in the three advertisements:
John Barclay appeared in the 1815 and 1819 directories only.
William Crawford was in the 1819 and 1826 directories only.
The Liggett family had the longest presence in the city. John Liggett was probably the father and James was his brother or son, both were cabinet makers. A third Ligget was Thomas, likely John’s son (initially listed a cabinet maker and subsequently listed as a carpenter) had the longest series of listings. All three started at the same address, south side of Second Street between Wood and Market streets.
James, the advertiser, was in the 1815, 1819 and 1826 directories. The 1819 listing shows him just a short distance from the Second Street address. John Liggett was in the 1812, 1815, 1819 and 1826 directories. Thomas, initially listed a cabinet maker and subsequently listed as a carpenter, was in the 1812-1826 directories with his last listing in the 1837 directory. He was not in the next directory from 1841, but may have worked beyond 1837, giving him at least a 25-year run.
William Scott had a long career as a plane maker, possibly starting before 1807 and at least until 1839. Charles W. Pine, Jr. wrote an article about early Pittsburgh plane makers and you can find that article here.
The Swetman & Hughes ad ran in the Pittsburgh Gazette. I used Pine’s article to get a lead on the short-lived partnership of Swetman & Hughes. The partnership of James Swetman and William P. Hughes employed three other plane makers: Thomas Clark, Samuel Richmond and Benjamin King. None of the five plane makers show up in the 1815 city directory and only Thomas Clark was found in the 1826 directory for Pittsburgh. Nothing more showed up for Samuel Richmond, but there are some details available for Swetman, Hughes and King.
James Swetman was born in England, arrived in America in 1809 and worked in Baltimore with William Vance until 1816. The Pittsburgh parnership of Swetman and William P. Hughes lasted about two years, until 1820. Swetman then made his way to Montreal and is believed to be the first plane maker in Canada. The Tools and Trades Society has an article about four Bath minor plane makers and includes a short history of James Swetman (you can read the article here).
William P. Hughes was originally from Maryland and likely met Swetman while they were both in Baltimore. After the partnership was dissolved, Hughes moved to Cincinnati. He appears in the 1829 and 1831 city directories, each time at a different address. In subsequent listings, if it is the same person, he had moved on to other occupations.
Benjamin King, also originally from Maryland, was much more successful in Cincinnati. He is listed as a plane maker in the city directories from 1825 to 1844. Beginning in the 1831 directory and onward, he was listed at the same address, on Abigail Street, between Broadway and Sycamore, indicating he found a level of stability in Cincinnati.
Economic Distress and the Formation of a Cooperative
In 1815, after two years of war with America, the warehouses of British manufacturers were bursting. There was a rush to sell these goods, even at a loss, and ship them to America. American markets, with little or no protective tariffs, were flooded with British-made products. One group of manufacturers hit hard were the cotton mills. James Jelly’s cotton mill (across from the advertised Mechanics Treat tavern) began operation in 1815. Soon, his mill, along with more established mills, were struggling to compete with imported textiles. Overall, despite the influx of imported goods, Pittsburgh continued to grow, although moderately, until the Panic of 1819.
In this front-page notice from the February 1819 edition of the Pittsburgh Weekly Gazette a group of craftsmen endorsed sandpaper made by Thomas Bryan. They emphasized it was equal to any imported sandpaper. This was an important means of offering support to a fellow craftsmen, and it telegraphed to the public that good-quality materials were being used in local workshops.
The numbers employed by the city’s manufacturers dropped from 1,960 in 1815 to 672 at the end of 1819. The population fell from about 9,000 in 1819 to 7,248 in 1820.
A farmer wrote to Cramer’s Magazine Almanac in a letter dated July 19, 1819. It was published in the 1820 edition of the almanac:
The farmer had read about an Agricultural Society that might serve as a remedy: “The plan designs to make the society a means of promoting domestic manufacturers as well as to patronise a better system of agriculture.”
The idea of forming a cooperative for the goods made by individual craftsmen and manufactories was also percolating. In April of 1819 the Pittsburgh Manufactory Association was formed. Samual Jones reported on the Association in the 1823 city directory:
The association opened a large brick warehouse on Wood Street between Front and Second streets. In an article about the beginnings of cooperatives in the Pittsburgh area, John Curl detailed the products sold and the the early success of the association:
Samuel Jones (in the 1823 directory) had a few more things to say about buying local:
First Impressions Are Important
David Thomas, the visitor from 1816, made note of two characteristics of the people of Pittsburgh.
First, the vile language:
And, several paragraphs later:
I lived and worked in Pittsburgh for a few years and can attest to the kindness and generous nature of the citizens of the Burgh. As for vile language, I heard none unless a few Ranger fans had the temerity to come to town for a match up with the Pens.
— Suzanne Ellison
A detailed map of Pittsburgh from 1830, courtesy of the University of Pittsburgh Library System can be found here.
Meet the Machinist: Craig Jackson (Part 2)
(You can read part one here.)
Craig Jackson started Machine Time in 2016. It now occupies 25,000 square feet of manufacturing space. The company has 15 employees and plans to hire five more this year. It recently brought on investors to grow even more.
“We mostly do aerospace parts, stupid tolerances,” Craig says. “Some of our tolerances are about the thickness of a Sharpie mark. It’s a whole world that I never truly knew existed. I mean, we’ve got to have temperature control within plus or minus 2°.”
Machine Time’s clients include NASA, SpaceX, Northrop Grumman, Blue Origin and more. U.S. manufacturing is such that Craig doesn’t need to look for clients – they find him.
Even though Craig never knows exactly where the parts he makes end up on rockets, he says he can’t watch a launch. “My feet are sweating, and I can’t be in the same room,” he says. “I just peek at the news the next day.”
Starting Machine Time, and the first five years, weren’t easy.
“From Easy Wood Tools, I had a big house, I had a Mercedes, I had Porsches, I had retirement,” Craig says. “I had to sell it all to fund this place. I didn’t take a paycheck for the first 5 years. My wife made $45,000 a year. We had to move into a house that was the size of a good-size living room, from a five-bedroom, five-bath mansion.”
Craig didn’t draw a paycheck until February 2022.
“Along the way it was so humbling, how many people were rooting for us, you know?” he says. “Chris [Schwarz] was like, ‘Hey, can you make these dividers?’ And I was like, ‘Probably not, but I’ll give it a try.’ I mean, it took us a month to figure out how to make anything at all productively. But now we’ve got an unbelievable team. I mean, a lot of these young guys are just sponges. And the relationship with Chris and Crucible has been pretty awesome.”
Craig says the mix of making, say, rocket parts and hammers, has been great for the young folks in his apprenticeship program, too. Craig says it’s an honor to teach them a solid method to feed their family for the rest of their life.
“Solid,” he says. “They can go to any city in the country and make a living.”
Craig likes to show his apprentices the 38 ways he’s screwed something up and then tell them not to do it that way. Pick any other way but one of those ways, he’ll say. “Let me know how it works.” He loves being a machinist.
“It’s all I’ve ever been, a machinist,” he says. “I just think, I was made to do this. I’ve tried to not do it. It keeps coming back. It’s what I enjoy.”
Craig likes taking a big 600-pound hunk of aluminum and turning it into a part that might weigh 12 pounds, something thin, like a skeleton.
“It’s just an attractive process,” he says.
Craig says there are strong similarities and differences to woodworking. When woodworking with machines, often the cutting tool stays still and you pass the work across. In metalworking, it’s the opposite, he says.
“Really the precision of woodworking is pretty well directly proportional to the hand skills of the craftsman,” Craig says. “In metalworking, at least the parts we do, it’s more about the precision of the CNC machine.”
Everything Machine Time makes is programmed virtually via software. Craig and his crew see the entire operation take place on a computer screen first. Once perfected, the program is transferred to a machine.
“Now that sounds pretty straightforward but the devil is in the details,” he says. “There’s a lot of opportunity for mistakes. To program and make a part, it’s probably more than 10,000 decisions. Data points, rpms, speed rates, depth of cut, workholding – it’s the ultimate puzzle, just figuring out how to make this thing. In woodworking, there’s not really that much variety of joints. Everybody has a table saw, a band saw, a router. But in metalworking, I probably have more cutting tools than a whole community of woodworking. And I’m not saying one is harder than the other. I’m just saying there may be more overall variables to deal with…but maybe not.”
Craig uses Crucible’s Dovetail Template as an example.
“To make one of those is a challenge,” he says. “But to make a thousand of them and to hand them off to an apprentice and foresee all the potential issues, that’s a good 180 hours of engineering and prototype work. It’s way up there. Especially on a thin part that can vibrate when you’re milling it. There’s a lot to it.”
And then there’s the Crucible’s Sliding Bevel. A collaboration between mechanical designer Josh Cook and Craig, Craig invented a way to allow users to independently control the rotation of the blade and the sliding of the blade.
“Engineering that, and I had to make a custom workholding, I probably had 400 hours in that,” Craig says. “I like what Chris once said: ‘Well, if you don’t like the price of it, we welcome you to go into small-scale manufacturing.’”
Of course, Craig acknowledges most of us are guilty of this line of thinking from time to time, including himself.
“When I go to the store and buy something made in China or a Mercedes or whatever, I look at it and think, ‘Well they got a machine and they just push a button and it spits it out,’” he says. “We just don’t have enough bandwidth to truly consider the depths of everything in our environment. We just don’t have enough brain to do that. And all we do is cuss when it doesn’t work. How does a car even hold together? There are 10,000 parts.”
Having been a machinist since the early 1980s, Craig has witnessed incredible advancements in the industry. Today, technology is key.
“We have to utilize every bit of CNC technology known to be or we can’t be accurate or we can’t be economical,” he says. An average CNC machine at Machine Time weighs 40,000 pounds, and has a 20,000 rpm spindle with 40 horsepower – and it costs half a million dollars.
“Weekly we’re bringing in new types of technology to the company, whether it’s how to hold a part with custom fixtures or another coolant system,” Craig says.
Always forward-thinking, Craig gets excited about technological advancements. He isn’t sentimental.
“Our vision as a company is to make manufacturing sexy again,” he says.
Craig says when he was a kid, it was considered cool if your dad worked in the plant. But now, it’s the opposite. Technology, he says, has the opportunity to change that.
“I grew up cranking handles on a Bridgeport mill or an engine lathe but machinists now are computer programmers at a basic level, with a high understanding of physics – we know materials, cutting tools and measuring,” he says. “As I get freed up from the day-to-day I’m going to try to hit the road and talk to colleges and high schools and just show them what we do, show them rocket parts and how we go about all this.”
Craig asks, “Have you ever seen a movie, heard a song, read a book that has a machinist in it?” He can think of one: “The Machinist.” It was a 2004 psychological thriller starring Christian Bale. It’s neither romantic nor uplifting. “I just want to see if I can move that needle a bit,” Craig says.
Craig’s vision for the future of Machine Time is to grow: increase benefits, capacity, all of it.
“The complete vision, as bold as it may be, is to create a standard machine shop model and apply it across the country,” he says. “Machine Time Nashville. Machine Time Las Vegas. And so on. That’s the goal. I don’t know that I’m the guy that can complete that but everything we do is in that direction. And whether we do another location or not, those are just good fundamental business practices.”
Craig says if he had $100 million, he wouldn’t retire. He’d have a bigger machine shop.
“We’ve got customers begging us to do more,” he says. “You know, I worked my butt off my whole life but with Easy Wood Tools, I always felt like it came too easy. It was not easy. But I was never sure that I earned it. I can tell you right now, at this point, I feel like I earned it.”
A Life Chronicled in Book Titles
Craig met his wife Donna on a blind date in 1984. She was 14, he was 16. They’ve been together 38 years. Today Noah is 24 years old, Sam is 22. They both work at Machine Time.
“They both went their own ways for a little bit like most all young men do,” Craig says. “You know, your dad’s the biggest hero and the biggest asshole you’ve ever known as you grow up. And then when you go out in the real world, you realize it’s good to have somebody who truly has your back. So they’ve come back to my open arms!”
Craig and Donna live on 5 acres. Craig has a 30’ x 30’ detached garage at home that serves as a workshop – woodworking, as he doesn’t do any metalworking at home. He still loves woodworking and he makes cutting boards, bowls and dining room tables on weekends, giving most of it away to his employees and friends. He stores his wood in a 40’ x 60’ old tobacco barn.
“I love my lumber,” he says. “And bowl blanks. I’ve got two locations for Machine Time and I’ve got wood strewn across these two locations and my basement and my workshop and my barn so I can never find the bowl blank that I’ve got hidden who knows where and I’m still buying more.”
Craig likes to stay busy.
“I can’t even sit down on a Sunday afternoon unless my body gives out so there’s a curse to it,” he says. “Your strength is always a weakness. My weakness is that I can’t sit down and relax. Vacations, I’m not so great at that. I’m not saying one thing is better than the other.”
Craig used to travel a lot with Easy Wood Tools – he’d put up to 50,000 miles a year on his truck and fly. There were pluses and minuses. His boys were pretty young, but Craig says Donna likes to remind him that the family saw the country. They took the kids skiing, to Cancun, to Disney. They did all kinds of stuff. So although he was away from his family for periods of time, he also had the freedom to spend extended periods of time with them, too. These days?
“I don’t want to leave Donna, not even for an evening,” he says. “She’s my best buddy.”
Craig went through a really difficult period when he didn’t get all his money from Pony Tools and had to sell everything to start Machine Time.
“I about lost my mind,” he says.
To cope, he started acrylic painting.
“It’s probably the most emotional thing I’ve ever done,” he says. “You know the fear of failure? It’s not like making a machine part or making a table or making a bowl. Because I never know what the results are going to be. I don’t look at anything. I just smear it out. And it’s an amazing release. And maybe that’s because of the point in my life when I started doing it. I’m not an artist on paper at least, but it truly helped me keep my sanity. So I paint when I have to.”
Craig spent the morning of our interview cleaning up 100 gallons of coolant that had spilled out on the floor from a CNC mill. He was mopping it up, throwing wood chips on it. The way he talks about setbacks, big and small, is admirable. They’re all lessons.
“Those lessons, from the bad times, oh my gosh, they’re so much better than the good ones,” he says. “Anybody can do good times and I don’t know if there are any lessons in them, really.”
Around the time Craig sold Easy Wood Tools he also started taking notes, called Book Titles. Today he has hundreds of them, a compilation of big statements condensed. Sometimes he quotes famous philosophers and makes notes. For example:
“The measure of a man is how much truth he can stand (truth always demands change). Nietzsche. AKA – Don’t fear the facts.”
Sometimes he writes his own. For example:
“The universe owes no debts. AKA – Believe that your effort is worth it.”
He calls them learning statements.
“They’re hard-earned and they came at a price,” he says. “And each of them came from a particular moment in time.”
His biggest one?
“Be willing to accept the consequences of doing the right thing.”
The Consequences of Doing the Right Thing
When Craig worked at the tobacco company, the HR manager told him that one day, when she interviewed there, the general manager asked her, “What makes you a good person?” And she told Craig that she didn’t have an answer for that. Craig thought about this for a few days.
“For me,” he says, “it’s, I’m willing to accept the consequences of doing the right thing. And so is Chris. And so is Megan [Fitzpatrick]. I think the word consequences is so often associated with ‘violation’ or ‘you broke the law.’ But the true consequences in life are for doing the right thing. And that’s the best long-term solution. Just look at the long-term. Just think about that, five years from now.”
And five years from now, Craig just wants to keep making ever-more difficult parts.
“It’s all about making jewelry, make it perfect, make it to print, make it amazing to the customer and then we’ll see if we can make money at it,” he says. “I don’t know if I even care about the money. I don’t know. I don’t know that I do.”
Craig likes to tell people this story.
“I feel like when I meet my maker, he’s only got one question: ‘Did you do everything you could with every day I gave you?’ I’ve already got my answer. So when things get too easy, I feel guilty. I’ve got to do more. I’m still walking. Chris is the same way. I’m not the only person. I’m not saying any of this is unique to me, that’s not my point. Everybody’s got me in them. But I’ve got everybody in me too. And we’re all just trying to get through the day and go to bed.”
One morning in 2020, as Craig was driving to Machine Time, tired, his funds drying up more and more by the day, he saw a familiar barn, for the first time really, along the way.
“These words came to me instantly and I pulled over and jotted them down just as I heard them,” he says.
Today, he has them printed and framed, below the above illustration of the barn.
Leaning, but not falling
Falling, but not hitting the ground
Hitting the ground, but bouncing
Bouncing, to my feet
Stepping, but not walking
Walking, but not running
Running, into the wind, and leaning
— Kara Gebhart Uhl