True story, Word of Honor: Joseph Heller, an important and funny writer now dead, and I were at a party given by a billionaire on Shelter Island. I said, “Joe, how does it make you feel to know that our host only yesterday may have made more money than your novel ‘Catch-22’ has earned in its entire history?” And Joe said, “I’ve got something he can never have.” And I said, “What on earth could that be, Joe?” And Joe said, “The knowledge that I’ve got enough.” Not bad! Rest in peace!
Across the studio, behind a grove of microphones on stands, the piano sat silent under a quilted cover like a sleeping racehorse. Calvin leaned forward in his chair staring at it, trying to strike an intense, artistic pose as Bubby read over his script. A figure in the hallway passed the small window in the studio door and Calvin whipped his head up painfully quick. He glanced at the clock. Bubby said they would have the studio to themselves until four. The chair creaked as he leaned back, shifting his pose to one of relaxed confidence—which would do just as well if Kathryn Dale Harper should happen by. But this pose quickly grew tiresome as well, and he leaned forward again to poke quietly at the saws, augers and gouges in his pasteboard box.
Bubby finally handed the script back to Calvin. “Okay. You need to write an introduction. You need to say who you are, what you’re doing, and who it’s for. You need say the title and set the stage. And you have to state that it’s a transcribed show at the beginning and at the end. That’s a federal regulation.”
“Do you want me to write all that now?”
“Nah, its just boilerplate to me. Same on every show, time-wise. Like the ending, it’ll be something like—
If you would like a measured drawing to make your own folding ladder of liberty, handy around the farm and home, just write to Grandpa Sam’s Woodshop of the Air, care of the National Farm and Home Hour, US Department of Agriculture, Washington 25, D.C. Be sure to include a three-cent stamp to cover the cost of duplication. This has been Grandpa Sam’s Woodshop of the Air, transcribed from Washington, D.C.
“So ‘Grandpa Sam’s Woodshop of the Air,’ that’s the title?”
Bubby pinched at a weeping blister on his left hand. “Hattersley’s suggestion, so I’d go with it, if I were you.”
“I thought it had a certain buoyancy about it!”
“Thought you’d like it.” He grinned at his friend. “Okay, after the close, you need a signature sign-off. Something that will stick with ’em.”
Calvin leaned over toward the sound effects table in the center of the studio as he thought. “How about:
This is Calvin Cobb wishing that, as you slide down that banister of life, all the splinters go in your direction!”
Bubby nodded enthusiastically. “Believe me, that’s not too corny.”
Calvin rubbed the canvas cover of the wind machine. “Nah! You know we can’t end each show with a Confucius-say joke about splinters in the ass.”“Well, it’s borderline. So, got any theme music?”
“Not yet.”
“This is very psychological, now. You need some old music that’s gone out of fashion, but that still has positive associations. Gotta pluck the right strings.”
Calvin stared at the piano and flipped through mental images of tattered sheet music. Willow Weep for Me?
Bubby shook his head. “It doesn’t have to have a wood reference.”
“Something by Bela-Bale, maybe, then.” He waved away his comment. “Sorry, uh, how bout Nola?” Bubby hummed the tune to himself for a second. “It’s bouncy.”
“Yes, but is it buoyant?”
“Buoyant enough for government work. Okay, Nola for now, and your first sound effect is what?” Calvin looked at the script. “The auger, I guess.”
Bubby wrote the cue on a notepad. “Right, okay, I’ll do peanut shells in a meat grinder for that.”
“I brought over an auger and a brace,” said Calvin, rummaging in his box of tools.
“Wouldn’t sound right. Okay, you got sawing here too. Let me hear you saw.”
“Rip or crosscut?”
“Both. And I’ll do Washington’s snoring since you’ll be doing the character voices over it.”
Calvin pulled his five-and-a-half point Disston No. 9 from the box and rip-sawed down the length of a pine plank spanning two sawhorses. Bubby made snoring sounds, striving for a comic asynchrony. He signaled Calvin to stop. “You know, if this was a union job they’d have to give me actor’s pay for the snoring. Alright, lets hear the crosscut.”
Calvin changed saws and began cutting across the grain. Bubby snored while studying the bouncing needle on a meter. He shook his head. “Get a thinner board so it’s a little crisper, and I’d better do the sawing too. I can make it funnier.”
“Right! Tell me how you can saw funnier than me.” Calvin plunked the saw blade with his thumb, making it ring with a “boing” sound.
“It’s all in the timing. And that ‘boing’ you just did is a perfect rimshot for the punchline.” Bubby reached with his toe to level the gravel in a big shallow box on the floor. “So, here’s your Hessian on guard duty.”
He stepped in the box, marched in place for a few steps, then swiveled and marched in place again.
“We’re going to be making history, you know that.”
“Well, it’s not very good history.”
Bubby frowned at him for a second, then grinned and slapped at Calvin’s script. “No, not your story itself! Just that it’s going to be the first recorded program ever on the networks.”
“You mean the second. You did the first. And what’s the big deal, anyway?” said Calvin, trying to shift the subject. “Unless there’s a scratch or a skip on the record, you can’t tell if it’s recorded or live—or is that the problem?”
“Oh, that’s what they say, but it’s just money.” Bubby leveled the sound effects gravel with his toe. “It’s like Rockefeller oil. Once you control the pipeline, you can strangle the little guys. NBC and CBS put all this dough into their wire networks. But if anyone bypasses them by mailing out shows on disks, there goes the hegemonic power of the dastardly duopoly.” He laughed. “I sound like Kathryn Harper.”
Calvin glanced at the window and stretched his arms over his head in an exaggerated show of nonchalance. “Are you suggesting that the voice of the American homemaker is a red?”
“Oh, she’s very in with that Popular Front jazz.” He tossed his head back, regarding Calvin through narrowed eyes. “Are you surprised?”
“Well, it is kind of an odd fit—slip covers and surplus value.”
Bubby shrugged. “Lots o’ radishes out there still—all stylishly red on the outside but white underneath. But me? I’ve got you some surplus value right here.” He reached into his jacket pocket and handed Calvin two blue tickets.
“Holy cow! Tommy Dorsey! How’d you get these?”
Making a show of adjusting his collar, Bubby affected a hoity-toity voice. “I’m a celebrity now, don’t you know? Such things come my way.”
“But don’t you want go?”
Bubby shook his head slowly. “The dance is out at Glen Echo, right next to the roller coaster. I’ve heard all the screaming I need to hear for a while.” He blew out a breath and sat on one of the sawhorses. “I just burn my hands trying to pull some stupid girder and the next thing you know my name is in the paper and everybody’s being nice to me!” He stood, taking control of his breathing before reaching into a bag beneath his table and pulling out a head of cabbage. “So here’s when your Kraut gets clubbed.” He whacked the cabbage with a short billy club, let a half second of silence pass and grunted “Unhh!” A sequential flopping of his elbow, forearm and fist onto the tabletop made the sound of a body hitting the ground. “Trust me, it’s perfect when you can’t see it.” Bubby nodded slowly as he looked in his little spiral-bound notebook. “Okay, we got the prison door.” He leaned over and patted the chain-festooned iron firebox door standing on a short wooden frame. “Got the tunnel.” He patted the empty trash drum beside him. “Got your wood gouges, creaking gridiron and unfolding ladder.”
Calvin took up the challenge and pointed to a yellow balloon on the cart. “All right. Thumb dragged across the balloon for the creaking gridiron. Where’s the folding ladder?”
Bubby picked up a short cedar box with a paddle-shaped cedar lid. He held the lid handle and rubbed it down the edge of the box to make a squeaky opening and closing sound. “Its a turkey call.”
Calvin nodded appreciatively. “And the gouges?”
Bubby took up a serving spoon and swept it repeatedly across the tabletop, slowly rolling its point of contact from the bowl of the spoon to finish the sweep with its edge. He bounced his eyebrows in happy triumph and popped Calvin on the shoulder with the spoon. “We’re going to be on a tight schedule, so I’m going to give you a production calendar for the whole summer. Enjoy the dance, ’cause you sure won’t have much time for a social life once we get going.” He glanced up at the wall clock. “Ah! Let’s get this place cleaned up.”
“I thought we had until four o’clock!”
Bubby crossed the studio to retrieve a broom. “When the piano man speaks, all must obey. He wanted to start at three.”
Calvin held a sheet of paper on the floor as Bubby swept the sawdust onto it. “Is Brockwell privy to Miss Harper’s pink persuasion?”
“Couldn’t be. He’s the bone they had to throw over the right side of the fence.” Bubby removed the quilted cover from the Steinway grand and began rearranging the microphones. “Some of his stooges in congress invoked the public interest provision of the Communications Act of 1934. As a balance to talking about social security, they say we have to let Brockwell share his helpful hints about blood, soil and der volk.” He handed the piano cover to Calvin and nodded toward the props table. “He’s been trying to get his own radio program for years now.”
“What’s been stopping him?”
“Stay and listen.”
Calvin finished tidying the props and wandered slowly to the booth. He let himself in and began thumbing through the record collection in the dark corner.
Bubby, still in the studio, switched on a microphone so that his voice came on the speaker in the booth. “You may be stuck here for an hour or so,” he warned. “We’re going to rehearse and then we’ll cut one.” He made a farting noise. “Or maybe two.” He made another.
The sign over Chester Cornett’s shop in Elizabethtown, Ohio.
Every shop I’ve worked in had a set of built-in aphorisms – things that are said when you encounter a moment of truth at the bench or when the clamps come off. Michael Dunbar’s chair shop probably had more than 100 sayings that he and his instructors had developed. Taking a class there was like living inside Confucius’s “Analects.”
We have some at our shop. Some of these are said out loud. Some are muttered under one’s breath. Others are too private to speak.
“Let us all now drink to the success of our hopeless endeavor.”
This is a Russian dissident toast that I learned in college. I say it to myself as a little prayer any time I begin a challenging project, which is just about every time I begin a project.
“For those people and that money.”
I’ve heard this one a lot in workshops. It’s said when you botch a job and decide not to fix it. I’ve turned it on its head and say it when something goes really right, or when a piece turns out as expected. It is said as a reminder as to who is the customer.
“If you have to ask the question, then you know the answer.”
I’ve published this one before. We say it whenever someone asks “Should I fix this?” “Does this assembly need to be remade?”
“You have to build a shed-load of furniture.”
I picked this one up from David Savage (rest in peace). I say it to students whenever they despair that they’ll never improve.
“Furniture makers have been hiding mistakes from rich people for thousands of years.”
I first heard this one from furniture maker Jim Stuard. He said it whenever he made a flawless repair to a piece.
“By all means read what the experts have to say. Just don’t let it get in the way of your woodworking.”
This is a John Brown quote. And I love it. I say it whenever we do something that goes against prevailing internet/magazine/book wisdom.
“La carrière ouverte aux talents.” (The tools to him that can handle them.)
This quote, attributed to Napoleon, I never say out loud. I say it to myself on the rare occasion when I get something exactly right – a joint, a tool setup, etc.
“The things I make may be for others, but how I make them is for me.”
A quote from Tony Konovaloff, I say this when I do things the hard way instead of the easy way on a project. Or I do something that the customer will never notice.
“Sharp fixes everything.”
I say this to students when their tools are dull and they are struggling.
“Don’t make a clock out of it.”
A German workshop expression shared with me by Peter Lanz. We say this whenever someone is making something far more complicated than it should be. And for no good reason.
Though we’ve dialed back the number of classes we’re offering at the storefront, we do have a few scheduled for the first half of next year (mostly because Chris is kind to me and – despite the havoc a class wreaks on his shop and life in general – knows I a) love teaching and b) need to feed my cat). We might be adding no more than two classes in the upcoming weeks…but I didn’t want to hold off any longer on announcing these.
The classes will go on sale on Monday, Nov. 29 at 10 a.m. Eastern, through our Ticket Tailor portal. Even though there’s a big “Register Now” button alongside each class at that link, you cannot register until 10 a.m. on Nov. 29. But you can read more about each class, see the estimated stock price, etc., if you click through.
Notes: 1) You must have had the Covid vaccine to attend a class at our shop 2) Please email covingtonmechanicals@gmail.com – not the LAP help desk – if you have questions about classes.
• Build the Anarchist’s Tool Chest with Megan Fitzpatrick; February 21-25, 2022 ($975 + stock fee) • Make a Carved Oak Box with Peter Follansbee; March 28-April 1 ($1,400 + stock fee) • Build a Dutch Tool Chest with Megan Fitzpatrick; May 6-8 ($425 + stock fee) • Make a Dovetailed Shaker Tray with Megan Fitzpatrick; June 4-5 ($320 + stock fee)
Two of our new sliding bevels, plus a early design prototype that Josh Cook printed out.
As a chairmaker, a small sliding bevel is essential to my work. The tool guides most of the joinery. It also is a companion when I explore historical chairs to understand how they work.
When we completed work on the Crucible Type 2 Dividers, designer Josh Cook and I wondered if we could adapt that tool’s ingenious tension/locking mechanism for a sliding bevel. The answer is yes. And thanks to tool designer and machinist Craig Jackson, we have a bevel in the works that exceeds any expectations I had for the tool.
The Crucible Sliding Bevel is unlike any other sliding bevel I know of. It locks the blade position so tightly that you have to be quite strong to get the blade to move off your desired setting. And if that’s all it did, I’d be happy. But it does something else, too.
Thanks to Craig, the Crucible sliding bevel has dual controls that allow you to do some helpful things. The screw up by the blade controls the rotation of the blade. It works like the adjustment mechanism on any sliding bevel. You can use it to lock the blade, loosen the blade or set the tool’s tension so the blade rotates but with some effort.
The second screw near the back of the tool is used to adjust how the tool’s blade slides in its slot. You can use these two screws to control separately the rotation and the sliding of the blade. That means you can:
Lock the rotation of the blade and then slide the blade to a different position in the body of the tool.
Lock the blade so it won’t slide, but it will rotate.
I know this might sound complicated, but it’s not. Much like the dual controls on the Tite-Mark, my favorite marking gauge, these become second nature within a couple minutes. Also good to know: You don’t have to use the dual controls. You can simply use the control at the pivot point to work the tool – bringing in the second control only when necessary.
Some of the many tool bodies that we experimented with. The colors in the backgrounds of the engravings is marker or metal dye – just experiments. The No. 11 is because this tool is our 11th tool.
Some Specifications
We are making the bevel in alloy steel with a 4″ blade, which is my favorite size. The blade is 3/32″ thick, so it is impossible to mangle. The body of the bevel is 11/16″ x 3/4″ x 4-3/8″ and weighs a nice 10 ounces. The bevels are being made in Kentucky. The control screws are the same size as the screw on our dividers (so perhaps we’ll make a screwdriver soon).
One of the other nice things about this tool is that it is extremely easy to assemble and disassemble. So we will offer a 7″ blade that fits in this tool’s body in early 2022.
So when will these begin selling? We are waiting on a large steel order. The production fixtures have all been constructed and the programming is complete. Depending on when the steel arrives, there is a chance we will offer the first batch right before Christmas.
And the price? This is the most complex tool we’ve made so far at Crucible, and there is a lot of milling to make the custom parts. The retail will be $200, and I think the tool is worth every penny. (As always, if you’re feeling salty about the price, I encourage you to give small-scale domestic toolmaking a go. I love it, but sheesh – making stuff is hard.)
I don’t know if we have enough margin in these tools to offer them through our foreign and domestic retailers. But a few months of production will give us that answer.
In the coming weeks I’ll make a video that shows how the bevel operates.
— Christopher Schwarz
In the end, we went with an understated logo, which matches the look on our other tools.
