Several readers have asked how far the students in my tool chest class at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking got on Friday afternoon.
Everyone got their lids complete. About four or five people got the dust seal on. Honestly, I think every student could have finished both the lid and the dust seal, but everyone was tired and ready to crack open a beer or try a shot of Connecticut moonshine (that is not a typo).
So we spent the last hour just yacking it up.
As for me, I had Carl “Mr. Wonderful” Bilderback assisting me this week, so I was able to finish the entire shell of the chest and get three coats of milk paint on the carcase.
At one point I asked Carl, a retired union carpenter, to give me a hand with the painting. He readily and cheerfully agreed. But then he noted that during his career he always told people he’d “rather have a rat in my mouth than paint something.”
After seven days of teaching and 1,400 miles of driving, I arrived home last night. I kissed my family, ate dinner with them and (when they weren’t looking) slinked down to the shop to work on the leg vise of my French oak workbench.
My leg vise is patterned as closely as possible to the one shown in A.-J. Roubo’s plate 11. That means no fancy curves (just one curve), no parallel guide and no garter. This makes the leg vise simple to make, but there are still some significant details to execute.
1. Relieve the clamping face of the chop. Roubo writes: “You also close the piece of the press “n” a bit hollowed on its length [canted inward at its top], so that in being closed, it can still pinch at the end.” This detail is also shown on plate 11. I relieved the rear of the jaw to make it look as much as it does on plate 11 by using a stop-cut on my powered jointer.
While I was working on the chop, I also sawed and rasped the 2”-radius curve on the top of the chop. This is not just for looks. It allows you to clamp stuff close to the bench and work it with tools at a steep angle (such as rasps and chisels). It’s a very smart detail in my opinion.
2. Add a ring of iron to the hub of the vise screw. Roubo writes: “This screw is normally of wood, across the head of which passes an iron bar “r,” with which you tighten and untighten according to your need, and you supplement the edge of the head of the screw with an iron ring for fear that it will split.” I turned down a rabbet on the end of the hub until I could drive on the iron ring, which was made by blacksmith Peter Ross. As per plate 11, I will drill and countersink a hole through the ring so I can screw the ring to the hub.
I was going to wait until winter to turn down the hub so that the wooden screw will be at its minimum diameter. But I was eager to get it done. We’ll see if I get snake-bit.
Now I just have to clean up the chop a bit, and I’ll be ready to mount the vise.
Tomorrow, I’m working on the planing stop, a 3” x 3” x 12” piece of oak I need to mortise into the benchtop. I’ll make the mortise with the help of WoodOwl bits, which Jameel Abraham turned me onto. These relatively inexpensive bits are going to change the way I build benches in the future.
The real challenge in teaching a class on “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest” is this: How can I make woodworkers cut dovetails as fast (and accurate) as possible?
When I first began teaching tool chest classes, we weren’t able to glue up the carcases until late, late Wednesday night or Thursday. Then it was a mad rush to get the rest of the chest completed.
Since then I have learned to put away the “encouragement whip” and get out the “punishment whip.” (I wonder why women rarely take my classes?)
Today – the second day of the course at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking – we have a third of the 15 chests glued up. The rest will be glued up on the third day before lunch. This is a frickin’ cake walk.
What has changed? Well, to be honest, I am a poor teacher at best. Honest and true. But I have learned a few tricks from some fantastic teachers. Here are two of them.
1. Teach the information is small, manageable bites. Send students back to their benches to perform one operation. Repeat. This is from Trevor Smith, a high school physics teacher in Troy, Mich. The dude is an amazing teacher. I watched him teach for one day and learned more about teaching that day than in any other time period.
2. If you say it will happen, it will happen. Advice from Doug Dale, one of the outstanding assistants and teachers at Marc Adams School of Woodworking. If you set the goal for the day as “you will finish this particular operation,” then – surprise – the students achieve that goal. Weird.
And there is one thing I bring to the table: debasing the dovetail joint.
I do not treat this joint as a holy relic – St. Christopher’s duodenum. It’s a mechanical joint that is easy to cut if you break it down into small bites (thanks again, Trevor). None of the operations in cutting a dovetail is hard. The only thing that is difficult is being consistent with every operation.
With five chests together today, and all of them looking really, really good, I feel justified in drinking a beer.
After two full days of sawing, planing, hammering and gluing parts together, the 14 students in this Six-board Chest class at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking laid down their tools. They swept up their shavings. They quietly loaded their chests into their cars.
Some classes end with exultation. Other with exhaustion. This one ended (I hope) with a little of both.
The pace of the class was particularly brutal. I was determined to cram in 400 years of history on the form of the “boarded chest” into the class time. And I wanted us to start with long boards that we had to knock down to size (by hand) and glue up into panels using jointer planes and spring joints.
Oh, and one more thing: There was no predetermined design for the chest we were going to build.
That was a good thing and a bad thing. Bad: Everyone had to think through his design and how it related to his material. This made every step forward a bit of a slog with 14 different answers to 14 questions.
Good: No two chests were the same. Not even close.
In fact, the chest that I built was not even the chest I set out to build when the class commenced on Saturday morning. Instead, I followed the needs of the material and ended up with a chest I am quite happy with. I’ll finish it up when I return home and post photos here on the blog. It’s stripped down, simple and appealing – to me at least.
As the students left – all a bit too weary – I could see that I had pushed things a little too far this time. It probably should have been a three-day class. And we should have used pre-cut stock. And worked to a predetermined design.
And… maybe not. I love to be dead tired when I have earned it.
We’re building 15 six-board chests this weekend at the Connecticut Valley School of Woodworking. But after the first day, all we have to show for our labor are six boards.
One of the students asked me: “Are we going to be able finish these chests tomorrow?”
“Nah,” I said.
This was the wrong answer. So I changed my tune. “Of course we are!” I replied.
Getting six good boards is half the battle with these chests, and we fought that one tooth and nail today. Well, there were no nails used (that’s tomorrow), though some of the boards looked a little toothy after flattening them with fore planes and jointer planes.
So somehow we have to get these chests built in one day. My usual solution is to do what the Kentucky Legislature used to do when they had to pass a budget by midnight. One of the legislators would stand up on his desk, take down the wall clock and turn the hands back by three hours.
Problem solved.
Other possible solutions: nail guns, hot-melt glue and a Bedazzler.
Lucky for me I have my secret weapon with me: Carl Bilderback. Yup, Carl drove all the way out here from Indiana to assist me with this class plus a tool chest class in the coming week. He’s been helping diagnose problems and giving lessons on stock prep and edge jointing.
Everyone needs a Carl. He’s the best kind of assistant: Always willing to lend a hand or offer an additional viewpoint to mine.