The following interesting story of a man’s reckless treatment of a machine illustrates, very forcibly, that it is more times the man’s fault than the machine’s that the latter refuses to work properly. Of course, it means the replacing of prematurely-aged machinery with new, to have them run under careless or incapable management; but even at that, we do not believe that there is a single machinery manufacturer who would like to see the product of his brain, or his brawn, abused for the sake of added profit. The story comes from a bright correspondent of the “Indianapolis Woodworker.”
Some years ago, I left the furniture factory, where I had been employed as a machine hand, to look after and keep in repair four small planers in a slack barrel cooper shop. It was with considerable pride and elation that I had accepted the position, which had been offered to me through the superintendent of the factory, who had been asked to recommend a man for the place, and, as I was but one out of nearly a hundred or more in the machine room, I felt real chesty to think that out of that bunch I was the lucky chap. It jarred me considerably, however, when the sanderman said, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, ‘I guess you must be the only one whom the boss wants to get rid of.’ (more…)
Does machinery pay in the carriage-shop? This is a question to which we have given considerable attention during the past year, and in the descriptions of leading carriage factories which we have published, we have in each case given a full list of the machinery employed. During the coming year, we hope to ventilate this subject still further.
The following article, from the “Harness and Carriage Journal,” and evidently written by Mr. J. L. H. Mosier, who is already well known to our readers as a regular correspondent of The Hub, is valuable in this connection:
“Let us enter into a review of this question, commencing with the smithing-room and ending with the paint-shop. In the matter of power vs. hand-blast, power-blast is a saving over hand-blast of nearly one man to a fire, and yields a production of fully ten per cent more. Next come the drilling-machines: with the ordinary hand-power machines, we will allow that a good workman can drill forty three-eighth-inch holes through half-inch iron in one hour. With a power-drill, fully sixty of the same holes can be drilled in the same time by any ordinarily good boy, at 50 per cent less wages, showing a gain of 50 per cent in production, at a cost of 50 per cent less for labor, from which deduct about 20 per cent for power.” (more…)
There is only so much book and video editing I can do before my head starts to feel like a wheel of gouda. Lucky for me, I can go to the shop at any point (What are they going to do, fire me?) and clear up my digital daze.
This weekend, I’ve been working on a couple of long-time-coming personal projects. One is a 16th-century square that I’ll be writing about later this week. The other project has been to finish my Holtzapffel workbench, which I began building almost seven years ago.
Today I finally added a shelf, which is made from maple that has been shiplapped and beaded. The shelf pieces are nailed to four ledgers that are screwed to the stretchers between the legs – pretty standard stuff.
For the most part, I use cut nails in my shop because they hold better and look better.
I was reminded of this today because the nails were a bear to drive. That’s because I was nailing through maple and into old yellow pine. Also, I had correct-sized pilot holes for my 6d nails.
What is a “correct pilot hole?” It’s a hole that doesn’t allow any of the boards to split and that permits the nail to really wedge everything tight. If your boards are splitting, you are doing it wrong. If the nails are easy to drive, you are (again) doing it wrong.
Here’s how I determine the pilot hole for any given situation.
1. If I’m nailing soft white pine, I do an experimental joint to see if I can get away without a pilot hole. Sometimes I can. Great success!
2. Otherwise, I select a drill bit diameter that matches the diameter of the tip of the cut nail. For many furniture nails in casework, this is 3/32” or so.
3. Then – and this is important – I make a test joint with the pilot hole in the same material I’m going to nail and with the pilot the same distance from the end of the board.
4. And then – and this is even more important – I drill the pilot hole to a depth that is only two-thirds the length of the nail. (For example, if the nail is 1-1/2” long, the pilot should be 1” deep.) If your pilot is the full length of the nail, then the joint is too weak. The nail should be difficult to drive. Conversely, if your pilot is too shallow, the nail is likely to bend before it reaches full depth.
I didn’t make this stuff up. This is information in the old books. Ignore it at your own peril. Or use drywall screws.
I like to read and discuss old texts and try to figure out what the authors are trying to tell us. When I read about using hand tools I prefer texts that were written before the use of electricity. Nicholson’s “The Mechanic’s Companion” was one such book. His brief description of a joiner’s bench and the accompanying plate piqued my interest. Why all the holes and how does it work? Only one way to find out: Build it.
Peter Nicholson, definitely not naked.
Because this bench is the results of hundreds of years of development, I tried to stay true to the text and plate and build the bench with a similar mindset as the original users. One task of a joiner was to finish the interiors of houses, so the joiner built a bench 10’ to 12’ long from common materials and made all of the doors windows and mouldings on site. My guess is that by the time the project was finished the bench was pretty much used up so he just unscrewed his vise and left the bench, building a new one at the next job.
So what did I learn as reached back into the past and shook the hand of Peter Nicholson?
One of the great features of the English Joiner’s bench is that it is made from common construction materials. There is no need to search far and wide to secure a thick piece of wood. You just go to the lumberyard and buy standard construction planks. There is no need for major glue ups or material preparation. A 10’-long workbench is no problem if you need one.
The construction is simple with basic hand tools – just a handsaw, brace, a few bits, hammer, framing square and a jointer plane. Because of the way the bench is built, the top is practically flat when you are done with assembly. And the bench is solid and stable.
Softwood from the lumberyard is grippier and doesn’t dent your project. This was a bit of an epiphany for me: The bench dents instead of my project because the bench is made from softer wood than the hardwoods I use in my furniture-making. The softwood top doesn’t polish up like a hardwood top, so the projects don’t slip around as much as I am working on them. Shiny and slippery are not your friends on a benchtop!
It’s cost- and time-effective: $100 and a weekend. If you want a low bench for planing and a taller one for assembly and close-up work build two benches! If you move, you can leave your old bench behind and build another when you get to your new place. All you have to do is toss your Dutch tool chest in the car and go!
It’s functional. While you might have to retrain yourself to work with the bench, its planing stops and holdfast holes, it doesn’t take long to get the hang of it. My first Nicholson had a vise, but after reading Joseph Moxon, I left off the vise and now use the double-screw vise he describes. So I have a bench with no vises – just a crochet, planing stops and holdfast holes to hold the work. Of course, you can also just drive nails into the benchtop to hold your work as well. The first Nicholson bench I built back in 2008 sported a split top that grew out of information from George Ellis’s writing on a Planing Board and spawned a split-top revolution that continues to this day. The bench in forthcoming “The Naked Woodworker” DVD is an outgrowth of the 15 or so English benches I have built with friends and students since the first one.
The throttle on the S.S. Studley Manuscript is as wide open as I can make it, and I am stoking the fire with vigor. Unlike Chris Schwarz, who once told me that a normal day for him includes writing 4,000 words, my full day of working on the “Virtuoso” manuscript for Lost Art Press yields a quarter of that. I am not complaining nor really comparing, just reporting. I am averaging about 3,000 words per week, which means I should have the manuscript roughed out in another two or two-and-a-half months.
It is thrilling to see the book take shape. I do not know how most writers write, I only know how I write. I don’t begin at the beginning and end at the end. Once I create a complete framework, I backfill by writing vignettes as the mood strikes me and then weave them together as I go.
For example, I have finished the Introduction (it describes how the project itself came to be), and the Conclusion (wherein I posit a connection between the ethos of Roubo and the anal-retentive perfectionism of Studley; I know you are shocked by me making that connection!). I have also finished The Catalog of the tool cabinet, well, as finished as I can get it before returning for one last perusal this fall and making one last detailed examination of each tool to make sure I got it all down.
I am working currently on the chapter titled The Saga, which recounts the threads of history binding together the lives of Henry O. Studley, the Hardwick Clan of Quincy, Mass., and the current owner, to whom I have given the pseudonym Mister Stewart. It is a ripping good yarn, but not really a bodice-ripper sorta story… or is it? The way the tool cabinet was transferred down through the stream of time suggests something hinkie was up with somebody. I’m just sayin’. You’ll have to let me know what you think after you read it for yourself.
A couple other sections are well underway, like the one on the tools made or modified by Studley himself, and Spider Johnson’s contribution on the Masonic iconography in the composition and details.
The last big section remaining for me to dive into is the chapter on the phenomenal workbench and vises, but I tell myself I am leaving the best for last.
Add to that the 1,500 pictures Narayan Nayar has processed thus far, and I am facing an embarrassment of riches for building this book. Once he does his extra special magic for the centerfold images, it will be quite a compelling package. For you photo geeks I will try to persuade him to contribute a brief essay on his work for the book.
This is also a big week in the Studley Universe as at 12:01 a.m. June 1, 2014, the tickets go on sale for the exhibit of the tool collection May 15-17, 2015. More information (and the tickets) can be found at http://www.studleytoolchestexhibit.com.
I cannot deny facing the challenge of this exhibit with some trepidation. Have you ever booked a high-value fine-arts shipper for a dedicated run? Try it some time. It will make that new kitchen seem like a bargain.
