Lost Art Press

Merry Christmas to My Clean Holes

Posted on by Lost Art Press

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Since 1993, I’ve had pretty much the same set of bits – brad-points I inherited from my grandfather and a set of Forstners I bought from Lee Valley. I’ve tried to maintain these bits as best I could, but when building all these Roorkee chairs, I gave up on my bits.

So I bought two dream sets of bits.

I first got a taste of the Lee Valley HSS Brad-points when I started working at Kelly Mehler’s woodworking school. He keeps a special stash of them that has saved our collective bottoms on several occasions. I’ve wanted a set of these bits ever since. And last week I bought the set of 28. They are all still dipped in their protective flubber and I can’t stand to remove it. Joy!

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While at Popular Woodworking we got to test out some of the Maxi-Cut Forstners after being wowed by them at a tool show. They are very well made and clear chips like nobody’s business. I bought a set of five and will add to it as I can afford it.

I know there are other great bits out there, these are the ones I’ve had the best experience with so far. I hope they last as long as my previous sets.

— Christopher Schwarz

Toolmaker Killed in Workshop Accident

Posted on by Lost Art Press

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Raney Nelson, 44, a woodworker, toolmaker and father, was killed Saturday by a piece of flying debris in his Indiana workshop.

While medical authorities are still working out the details, Hancock County Coroner Tammy Vangundy told the Greenfield (Ind.) Daily Reporter that Nelson was struck by several jagged pieces of wood that looked like they came from his workbench area.

According to Hancock County EMS reports, when medics arrived on the scene, they called the Hancock County Sheriff’s Office because it appeared that the workbench had “exploded,” though the Daily Reporter said no explosives or accelerants were found at the scene.

Though I saw Nelson briefly at Woodworking in America, the last time I got to talk with him at length was during the French Oak Roubo Project in Barnesville, Ga. We built our workbenches side-by-side during the week, and it is a bit unnerving to think that Raney was killed by his own workbench.

We all knew the moisture content in our benchtops was high, but I had no idea that a bench could rip itself apart to the point where it would become a porcupine of deadly projectiles. I suppose this is why the slab-top workbench was abandoned more than a century ago. It’s just too risky to human life.

Remember kids: Sjöbergs save lives. It’s not just a marketing slogan.

— Christopher Schwarz

The following is my photo tribute to Raney and his bench.

Stupid Furniture Tricks: The Collapsible Bookcase

Posted on by Lost Art Press

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As promised (long ago), here’s a quick video of how the collapsible bookcase works.

It still wobbles a tiny bit at the corners; I’m fixing that by reducing the hinge clearance. Still, even though it wobbles a wee bit, there is no danger of it collapsing. It is surprisingly strong.

This version is built to the same size as the original. It’s a bit small for modern books, but I see no reason the mechanism cannot be used on larger casework.

The project was a ton of fun. And even though it is dirt-simple – hinges and a dado – putting it together was like a Three Stooges episode. I almost got poked in the eye a couple times by a flapping shelf or case side.

I have just a little more clean-up on the edges and I’ll be finishing this with garnet shellac and black wax.

— Christopher Schwarz

A Flat-out Bad Time

Posted on by Lost Art Press

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I know that my recent blog entries have been lightweight at best – thanks to Jeff Burks for picking up my slack. I’m determined to finish writing this “Campaign Furniture” book by Dec. 31, and so all my energy is going into the laptop.

And the benchtop.

Today I’m finishing up the collapsible bookcase – the last (I hope) project for the book – and none of the boards were behaving when I planed them. That usually means something is out of kilter – the plane’s sole or the benchtop. It was, of course, the benchtop. This bench is the one I built during the French Oak Roubo Projects in Georgia this summer. Until recently, the benchtop was settling in gently.

During the last two weeks, things got ugly. The benchtop itself has shrunk more than 1/16” in thickness – and shrunk even more near the dog holes and planing stop. This is, of course, totally expected because the holes expose more end grain to the atmosphere.

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My benchtop after two passes with a jointer plane.

That doesn’t bother me. What’s distressing is the glue joint has opened up a 1/32” at the surface of the benchtop for almost 24”. The opening isn’t deep – less than 1/4” – but it looks like a gaping maw when I think about everything I did to get that seam airtight while gluing the benchtop.

It is what it is. Chances are it won’t fall to pieces.

But I have to get the top flat tonight so I can finish up this bookcase before the snow arrives. (It’s no fun to spray shellac in a snowstorm.)

— Christopher Schwarz

A Wonderful Machine

Posted on by fitz

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When I was laying the foundation of my mechanical fame and fortune running a bolt cutter in the Rock Island shops at Chicago a year or two ago, I boarded in a house filled with locomotive engineers and firemen. A practice prevailed there of enlivening the supper table with social conversation, and the locomotive being in the majority the leading theme of talk was stupendous feats performed in getting over certain hills without doubling.

This was occasionally varied by the record of minor incidents such as the exploit performed by Tom Jones when the 96 broke her rocker arm, how narrowly Dick Swiveller escaped from having his checks called in when the 124 broke her side rod running down Valley Hill, and how Harry Walbrandt whooped up the 92 to make a passing point, and just got clear into the side track when the Chicago limited showed up.

George Dorwart, who ran a lathe in the shop, sat opposite me at the table, and he got tired of being excluded from the conversation. He became ambitious to hear himself talk in that crowd. One evening catching on in a lull of the talk he called out loudly to me: “Well, I went over and saw that machine to-day, and it is astonishing the fine work it does.”

“How does it work?” I inquired.

“Well,” said he, “by means of a pedal attachment, a fulcrumed lever converts a vertical reciprocating motion into circular movement. The principal part of the machine is a disc which revolves rapidly on a vertical plane. Power is applied through the axis of the disc, and when the speed of the driving arbor is moderate, the periphery of the machine is traveling at great velocity. Work is done on this periphery. Pieces of the hardest steel are by mere impact reduced to any shape the skillful operator desires.”

“What in thunder is the machine any way?” demanded Tom Jones.

“Oh, it is a new grindstone,” replied George, and a silence that could be felt passed round the supper table.

The Old Man.

American Machinist – December 15, 1883

—Jeff Burks