These butt hinges from Horton Brasses – while not the cheapest option – are always reliable and lovely.
When I can’t afford the fancy forged hinges (or would rather spend that money elsewhere), I most often reach for 2-1/2″ butt hinges from Horton Brasses (item PB-409, about $42 per pair, including screws and shipping). And while butt hinges are available at any hardware store and at a range of price points (some incredibly cheap in both price and quality), I know the extruded brass Horton hinges are always exactly the same and thus interchangeable. I can use one I have on hand to lay out the mortises, and when the new set arrive, I know they’ll fit. (That, however, is perilous behavior – indulge in it at your own risk.) And I know they’ll come with the finish-matched slot-head screws I request. And no, I get no kickbacks from Horton Brasses (or anyone else).
This is a more minimalist look than strap hinges of any kind, but I like the way they look, and they take up zero usable surface area on the chest. Plus, I always have extra hinges on hand from other projects when I buy two sets because I need three hinges.
My starting point for locating these is to go by an old rule: Measure the overall width of the lid (or door or other surface to be hinged) and divide by two. That number is the distance between the hinges – or at least a good starting point. I often bump them out a little more. With the help of a square, knife a line at the location for the outside edge of the hinge. And I always mark the outside edges on every hinge, every time. If I follow the same steps no matter the project, the less likely I am to screw up.
Align the hinge to the first mark, then use the hinge itself to guide the knife as you mark the other end. Try not to slip and scratch the hinge – especially if you chose an antique finish, as it scratches somewhat easily.
Set a cutting gauge to the thickness of the hinge plate, then scribe the mortise baseline from edge to edge on both faces.
Saw to the baseline. Or use a chisel to cut a V in the waste toward the line (a relief cut), then place the chisel, bevel toward the waste in that V with the tool perpendicular to the work, then give it a good smack to reach the baseline. Pare out the waste, or do it with a small router plane (which is overkill … but fun), or a combination of the two.
With the waste removed, test the fit (and I always put the leaf with the barrel piece reaching to the edges on the carcase; the leaf with the cutouts at the end goes on the lid). If all is well, punch the locations for the pilot holes. Why a punch instead of eyeballing it with an awl or pencil? The punch has sloped edges to fit the countersink, so the point automatically finds the center. Eyeballing it can also work – but my eyesight is less reliable than my centerpunch. And the punch (with adjustable pressure for different hardnesses of wood) is awfully fun to use.
Have your marking knife close at hand, then place the lid atop the chest and center it side to side with the back edge butted against the hinge barrels. I set an adjustable square to my best guess on one edge, then show the square to the other edge. Adjust right to left as necessary, then hold it tightly in place. Or have a friend do it for you.
With your marking knife, flat side always against the hinge, nick a mark on the back corner of the lid where the barrel meets it on both ends of both hinges. Make sure the mark is deep enough that you can see it, but be wary of pushing too hard, as that can move the lid out of alignment. It needs to remain still while you make all four marks.
If you used a less reliably made brand of hinges, mark each for its location on the chest so you know which one goes back where, then remove them. You’ll need to use the mated hinge leaf on that exact hinge to mark the mortise on the underside of the lid. If you used a reliably made brand – that is, you know they are interchangeable, you can remove just one … or none, if you happen to have an extra handy.
Fold the hinge over the mortise location (make sure you have the correct leaf), then mark around it with a marking knife (flat side toward the hinge) – or a thin pencil (0.5mm) if you’re afraid of nicking the finish on your hinge. But the knife will provide better accuracy.
Set your marking gauge to the hinge leaf’s thickness if it’s not still set. Or if you’re using a small router plane, set that to the thickness. Either can be used to mark the baseline on the angled edge of the lid (fencing off the flat underside). If you use the router plane here, turn it so one corner of its blade cuts the wood as you drag it to score a baseline.
Chisel or rout out the waste. Deepen the edges of the mortise with a wide chisel as needed – and be careful at the front edge of the mortise; that’s a long-grain cut. If you hit too hard there, the wood will split. If it does, don’t panic. Just pull the chisel out of the cut, then remove the waste on the chisel floor up to the line. If you still need to remove waste at the shoulder, use a sharp knife instead of a chisel.
Reattach the hinges on the back of the chest (if you took them off), then place the chest on its back, and the lid with the inside face up, on your bench. Slide the lid into position at the back edge until the hinges meet their mortises. Punch the hole locations, then drill and drive the screws.
The above is excerpted from the hardware chapter of “Dutch Tool Chests,” by Megan Fitzpatrick.
Anthony Parsons, a luthier at Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co.
More than 150 years ago, in the heart of Appalachia, James Edward Thomas, known as Uncle Ed, loaded up a handcart and pushed it along the banks of Troublesome Creek, selling his handmade mountain dulcimers in Hindman, Kentucky.
Today, at Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co., the making of these same dulcimers, as well as guitars, mandolins and banjolynns, have helped dozens of people recover from substance abuse addiction and find fulfillment as luthiers and musicians.
“There are a lot of dulcimer makers who have been connected to this place,” says Doug Naselroad, luthier and founder of Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co. “So it’s sort of like a firmly rooted tree right here in Hindman – the music, the instruments and the people keep coming back.”
The Origins of Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co.
Nearly 15 years ago, in an effort to further revive Hindman’s luthiery roots, the Appalachian Artisan Center invited Naselroad to come to Hindman to start a school of luthiery.
Doug Nasleroad, luthier and founder of Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co.
Naselroad has been playing and making guitars since 1969. He was mentored by Homer Ledford (a neighbor and encourager). In 1979, he opened his own shop in Mount Sterling, Kentucky. He worked for Collings Guitars in Austin in the 1990s. He’s taken notes from many instrument makers he’s met along his life’s path, and he’s built many instruments, including guitars, mandolins, harps and dulcimers, for well-known musicians, including John Prine, Lyle Lovett and Steve Miller.
In 2012, Naselroad founded the Appalachian School of Luthiery. Once fully embedded in the community, Naselroad was struck by the number of people affected by the opioid epidemic, and wanted to help. Around 2016, he and a former colleague began to formalize a plan, leading to their founding of the Culture of Recovery in 2020 – an apprenticeship program for folks recovering from substance abuse disorders.
“It was very organic,” Naselroad says. “It grew up out of the need of the place, the resources that were available and the community that started to grow there. I really feel like it’s a mission. To put it plainly, I just think it’s what God put me down here to do.”
At first, the idea was simple: Teach people how to make instruments in order to learn a craft that will enrich their lives.
That idea became a lifeline for many and led to the founding of Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co., a nonprofit formed in partnership with the Appalachian School of Luthiery, providing jobs and helping with recovery.
“I realized that it was a critical part of their recovery to learn a skill and develop a career that they could fix their hopes on,” Naselroad says.
A New Way Forward
In September 2020, Anthony Parsons, then 22, entered rehab at Hickory Hill Recovery Center.
“I was at the death of my addiction,” Parsons says.
Through Hickory Hill, he entered the Culture of Recovery program, and once a week, he would come to Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co. and learn how to build guitars. Parsons has played guitar since he was 12, but had no woodworking experience.
“When I got here, it was just like, oh man, this is exactly where I’m supposed to be,” Parsons says. “And they were nice enough to give me the opportunity to continue doing that. They hired me when I was just getting done with rehab, and I’ve worked here ever since.”
It took Parsons about a year to get the hang of the neck-making process.
“You’re learning something for the first time, and maybe you don’t have a lot of experience in it,” Parsons says. “It takes determination to get past your initial frustrations because not everything comes naturally to everybody, and that’s OK. But I think when you push past that aspect of it, that’s where you grow.”
Today, Parsons mainly builds guitars and banjolynns, but he has a hand in most of the instruments, and is usually the last person to touch them before they go out the door.
“I make sure they play really nice and that they sound good and everything’s working,” Parsons says.
Much of his work is by hand, with fine attention to detail.
“It’s kind of an art form in a way,” Parsons says. “We have a few templates and stuff, but really, it’s by feel. You kind of close your eyes and you feel the neck in front of you and you feel for lopsidedness or anything like that. And you just spend time with sandpaper and files and you make sure that it’s as good as it can be. And I think that process in particular can be really soothing. It helps take away some worries from time to time if you can just get in the zone and work on it.”
Parsons, who enjoys everything from Tony Rice and Doc Watson to slam metal, plays nearly all the instruments thoroughly, before they go out the door.
Currently, he’s going to school to earn his drug counseling license.
“I hope, and who knows if this could ever happen, but I hope to be able to do some of that here rather than have to leave – be able to kind of help out here and maybe work that into my position and help counsel the guys as I can,” he says.
Naselroad says watching people enter the Culture of Recovery straight out of rehab – raw and often lacking confidence – and witnessing them become accomplished woodworkers is an amazing experience.
Woodworking is Magic
Lessons begin with entry-level instruments.
“We have a little ukulele that’s made kind of like a wishbone,” Naselroad says. “We have a guitar and a banjolynn that are basic wooden instruments. And then, as soon as people are interested, we make the traditional mountain dulcimer of Knott County, Kentucky.”
Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co.’s catalog is structured, but not restrictive.
“We use traditional violin-making tools for the mandolins,” Naselroad says. “There’s a lot of hand carving that goes on with drawknives and spokeshaves. At some point, we do end up using abrasive planers and power tools in a modern workshop.”
Instruments are often made from Appalachian hardwood.
“It’s been a wonderful ongoing experiment,” Naselroad says. “The woodworking part has just been a joy because we get to find out what instruments made of hackberry, Osage orange and persimmon sound like – all these instruments that you never see in the industry because we have all these Appalachian hardwoods, and we can try them and fine-tune the process. We’ve got some real outstanding results that way.”
This, Naselroad says, has been driven by his people.
“My guys just love to build from things that are from this place,” Naselroad says. “They have a real sense of place. One guy came in one time, and he said, ‘I got some big, wide, tulip poplar shelf boards from my wife’s grandfather’s general store. They were the produce shelves at the C.B. Caudill Store. I’ve got to see if I can make a guitar out of it. Will that work?’ And I said, ‘Yeah, sure. Let’s see what it does.’ If it’s stable, it’s crack-free and it’s quartersawn, we can generally make a functional instrument – and sometimes a really excellent instrument.”
Fine woodworking, Naselroad says, can be a magical experience.
“Instrument making, for me, is the best example of fine woodworking because it’s like this tremendous magic trick,” Naselroad says. “You take a muddy old log from the woods, and you process it, and you cut it just so, and you dry it and you build this thing at the end of which you have music. It’s like a magic trick. And that to me is the most functional kind of woodworking.”
And when people become enthralled by this magic trick and challenged by this labor-intensive work, their attention refocuses on something other than obtaining drugs, Naselroad says.
The factory.
“The gratification, the endorphin rush that comes from drug abuse, is replaced by something that doesn’t punish you, something that you can actually get a reward out of and not be given time by the courts,” Naselroad says. “You’ve got a positive goal, an obsession, if you will, to replace the one. It actually rewires the chemistry of the brain of the addict.”
Jeremy Haney has been with Troublesome Creek Stringed Instrument Co. since October, 2019. Like Parsons, he was introduced to the Culture of Recovery program through Hickory Hill Recovery Center.
“I came down and started learning how to build instruments,” Haney says. “And from there, it’s just been one step after another, gaining knowledge and experience. And later on, I gained a job here at Troublesome Creek Instrument Co.”
Woodworking came naturally to Haney, in part because he’s always been artistic.
“I think that helped a lot with the learning process,” he says. “But I did have my challenges. It was a big learning curve, learning the process, the steps and having my eyes opened up – the details that I would’ve never had them opened up to. Learning how to build these instruments, you have to look at fine detail, and that’s just something I wasn’t used to doing. So that was a big learning curve for me.”
Having something to put his mind and hands into helped ground him, Haney says.
“This kind of work is therapeutic,” he says. “So that was a big help for me, from my recovery standpoint. I think they go hand-in-hand and one really supports the other.”
Today, Haney solely builds mandolins and is considered one of the country’s leading mandolin makers, Naselroad says. Each mandolin takes him one to two weeks to build.
“It’s a mixture of power tools, hand tools and sandpaper – a lot of sandpaper,” Haney says. “I try to be as flawless as I can.”
Haney loves the work.
“I kind of just naturally took to it, and it’s something that I’ve learned that I’m actually good at,” Haney says. “So not only is it rewarding in the sense that it’s therapeutic, it’s also rewarding in the sense that at the end of the build, I get to hear this instrument being played. And getting feedback from the people that buy these instruments, saying how much they love them and how good they sound, it’s pretty rewarding all the way around in that aspect.”
One of Haney’s instruments was purchased by an organization that donated it to Ricky Skaggs.
“Knowing Ricky Scaggs has one of my instruments is probably one of the highlights of my career,” Haney says. “Hopefully, I have a lot more moments like that in my future. But right now, that’s good enough for me. Never in a million years did I think I’d be building instruments, let alone having somebody like Richard Skaggs own one.”
Haney hopes to one day have his own shop and brand.
Community & Music
Community is a core component of recovery.
“We eat together, we work together, we design our stuff together,” Naselroad says.
With shared goals, there’s a shared sense of purpose.
“It’s like one big meeting, all the time,” Haney says. “Talking about your problems in recovery is a big thing. It’s something that’s vital in recovery. You need to talk it out and get other perspectives on what you’re going through, because being in it firsthand, you really can’t see the problem or the solution. Having somebody’s opinion or somebody’s perspective from the outside may give you a better perspective of what you need to do or how you need to handle it.”
With so many fellow colleagues in recovery, Parsons says he always has someone, which has helped him stay clean and sober.
Music is key to the recovery process, too.
“I just left the factory a few minutes ago, and one of our newest employees was sitting with our shop foreman, and they were having something like a guitar lesson over there after work,” Naselroad says. “My crew is full of musicians and songwriters,” Naselroad says. “They write as part of their recovery. In the 12-step program, journaling your feelings and your experience is a means by which you get a handle on a lot of things. And a lot of them like to journal about their upbringing, their addiction and their recovery. We take the instruments that we make and we do radio shows and festivals – all kinds of opportunities for them to express themselves.”
For Parsons, it’s the process that matters.
“Having a hand in this process, where you start with something that’s just a tree, and you end up with this really fine instrument, that’s beautiful,” Parsons says. “You have this guitar or mandolin or dulcimer or whatever it may be in your hand and you can strum it, Parsons says. “And it has this really beautiful sound and then you get to see where all your hard work and dedication has come out on the other side and you have a finished product. I think recovery is very similar. If you work to mold yourself into the person you want to be, and you put in all the work, and there’s other people that help you too along the way, just like the instruments, I think you also get a really beautiful and wonderful product at the end. But it requires work and dedication, just like the luthiery does.”
The Flood
In July 2022, after 10 years of laying the groundwork for the factory, it was gone – all of it.
“On the day of the flood, we pretty much thought that we’d all lost everything and one another,” Naselroad says.
The night of the flood, Parsons woke up to constant emergency alerts on his phone, telling him to seek higher ground and to seek shelter.
“It was scary,” Parsons says. “Luckily, where I live in particular, I didn’t have to worry too much, but I had no idea what was going on. That morning, I had every intention of going to work, but there was mudslides at the end of my road and I couldn’t. So then I started trying to call and text people and nobody really knew what was going on. Nobody could get to the factory. And then I finally got a hold of somebody and they were just like, well, everything’s gone.”
It was difficult, but no one wallowed in it, says Naselroad, who called his crew and said, “You guys were skilled luthiers yesterday. Today, you are disaster recovery workers, so pick up your shovels.”
Jeremy Haney, on cleanup duty at the school,
Everyone dug in and went to work.
“There was mud and dirt and grime everywhere,” Parsons says. “Wood had been washed down the creek. There was a bunch in the facility still, but it was all water-damaged and dirty. All our tools were in the mud. At the time, I didn’t know what was going to happen because this is still my livelihood. This is what I do to make money. So I was pretty worried about that, but we’ve really bounced back from it. Luckily, we’ve had a lot of supporters along the way. A lot of people have helped us rebuild.”
They lost five buildings, including their factory, which took three years and millions of dollars to restore. Throughout it all, Naselroad managed to keep everyone on the clock full-time, paid.
Doug Naselroad, picking tools out of the septic mud.
“You would be amazed at how strong and capable and dedicated my crew was in the midst of this disaster,” Naselroad says. “When we finally got back, the guys felt like they were back home again,” Naselroad says. “The flood, while it shook my confidence in the creek – I don’t trust the creek like I used to – it really affirmed my faith in the community, not only my guys, but the church community, Eastern Kentucky, and a lot of nonprofits and artists who stepped up.”
This included famous musicians, such as Chris Stapleton and Tyler Childers.
“Without them, we wouldn’t have made it through that first winter,” Naselroad says.
A Promising Future
Troublesome Creek Instrument Co. has produced about 400 instruments since its founding, despite the flood and the pandemic. Prices range from $525 for a dulcimer to $6,000 or more for a high-end guitar.
“Social-impact luthiery is an idea that never occurred to me until I was doing it,” Naselroad says. “But it’s a community that I’ve been privileged to serve and it’s been a wonderful, wonderful time. I really think that it’s a string of miracles that have put us where we are today, the flood included. We lost everything and then had everything put back in a really spectacular way. There’s a community strength that’s there that goes beyond just our shared interest of luthiery. A lot of life and death stuff has happened in the past four or five years.”
If you can use woodworking to give people the gift of a better life, then you are fortunate, Naselroad says.
Editor’s note: Our Mind Upon Mind series is a nod to a 1937 Chips from the Chisel column (also featured in “Honest Labour: The Charles H. Hayward Years”), in which Hayward wrote, “The influence of mind upon mind is extraordinary.” The idea being there’s often room for improvement.To that end, we’ve asked you what else you have thought of, tried out and improved upon after building projects from our books.
Send us your own ideas! Email [email protected]. You can read more about the submission process here.
Today’s pick is courtesy of Rob, from Peachtree City, Georgia. Thanks, Rob!
— Kara Gebhart Uhl
This steambending tip is for kiln-dried hardwood.
I am building two staked side chairs from “The Anarchist’s Design Book” to go with our dining room table. Both are built out of kiln-dried cherry and I’m using the simple steambending jig as shown in the book.
The crests are 13/16″ thick and need to be steambent to a 15″ radius.
Typical bending failure.
I have built four of these same chairs previously, two out of ash and two out of cherry. The ash crests all came out well, but I had several failures while bending the cherry crests. Even when using straight-grained wood, cherry is prone to cracking and is a more difficult species to bend than ash or oak. This time around, I had three failures out of my first four attempts. All the failures were on the outside of the curve.
I knew a jig with a compression strap would give better results, but didn’t want to spend the time and energy to build a more complicated, albeit better, jig.
I had seen articles or videos in the past about steaming wood inside a plastic sleeve. While thinking about the best way to do this, I remembered that we have a vacuum sealer machine in our kitchen.
The crest is 18″ long and 2-1/2″ wide before steaming, so an easy size to work with the vacuum sealer. Vacuum sealing makes the bag/wood combination smaller and easier to handle and clamp, but still leaves plenty of moisture.
Here’s my process:
1. Soak the cherry for several days.
2. Put the wet wood in the bag and vacuum seal.
3. Steam for one hour.
4. Put the wood and sleeve in the bending jig together and clamp expeditiously.
5. After the crest has completely cooled and is at room temperature (4 to 6 hours), I unclamp the crest, remove the sleeve and reclamp in the same jig. This helps start the drying process, but it won’t dry very much while in the jig.
6. The next day, I remove the crest and put it in a bar clamp to dry. The wood will still be very wet and there will be some spring back. Tighten the bar clamp to match the 15″ radius of the bending form.
The sleeve retains the moisture during the steaming process, which is more efficient in conducting heat. Steaming without the sleeve heats the wood but also removes much of the moisture. The bag also helps retain heat and slows the cooling process while transferring and clamping in the jig.
If you plan on doing much steambending, my advice is to build a jig with a compression strap. In lieu of a compression strap, I think this is a good workaround.
Previous side chairs.
So far, this technique has worked well after a handful of attempts.
The first pass at the cover for our new pocketbook.
Our new pocketbook, “Smalls: 18 Well-designed, Easy Projects for an Afternoon in the Workshop,” is in the hands of Kara Gebhart Uhl for a copy edit. I’ll get it back from her next week, make the final changes, then upload it to the printer. After that, it’s usually about six weeks until it’s in the store.
As the title indicates, the book presents 18 projects that will make good use of all those little pieces of wood that were too good to throw away, but too small for most furniture projects. Each project includes a short explication of the steps, plus a cutlist and plans, elevations and any tricky details. Plus, you’ll find chapters on technique basics so that even if you’re new to woodworking, you’ll learn what you need to cut the rabbets, dados and grooves, how to use cut nails, how to fair curves and more. In short, the info you need to build these projects.
Here’s a project preview, a simple hanging bookcase in cherry. (And if you skip the curves, it’s simpler, still.)
This hanging bookshelf or display shelf is dead simple to make; It’s just four pieces of wood, four dados and eight nails. And because this piece is a little larger and not as delicate as some in this book, you can use 3/4″-thick stock without making it looking too bucky (a common challenge with smaller projects).
Cut all four pieces to width and length, then lay out the curves on the ends of the sides – in this case, an arc of a 2-1/8″-radius circle that starts and ends 5/8″ in from each edge. Cut and fair the curves.
The shelves are captured in 1/4″-deep dados that start 3-1/2″ in from each end. Cut the dados, then pull the shelves tight to the dado bottoms with clamps. Shift the clamps up or down as necessary so that you can drill pilot holes for cut or square-shanked nails into the center ends of the shelves, then remove the clamps and drive the nails. I used 50mm Rivierre nails, because they hold like the dickens and the prominent black nail heads look nice against the mellow cherry.
The finish is soft wax.
The hanging shelves end up being reversible up and down and front to back – so choose the best face and hang it up and out!
My kitchen renovation is nowhere near complete, but I’m glad the space is at least semi-functional.
I’ve been at home this week (and possibly will be next) staring on and off at my not-yet-finished kitchen – on which I cannot currently work – every time I go to refresh my ice pack and drink more fluids. (I’m recovering from minor but uncomfortable surgery, and am under doctor’s orders to do no physically taxing work and to lift no more than 10 pounds for at least two weeks.)
This gives me plenty of time to second-guess my decisions. Maybe I should have built a lazy Susan cabinet in the corner…. Perhaps a smaller refrigerator tucked into the pantry would have been a better use of space… Should I have done inset toe kicks after all… Why did I even start this project ….
But start it I did, the day after Thanksgiving last year. And I’ve been thinking about it since the day I closed on the house in 2016. The first thing I built was the pantry storage, so that I’d have a place to store stuff – and it turns out that the pantry holds about 70 percent of my dishes, cookware, food stocks, etc. Not in any terribly organized or convenient setup, mind you – but at least I don’t have everything piled on my dining room table.
The pantry is also not done, but it’s almost completely functional (blue-tape drawer pulls for the win!). All that’s missing for full functionality is the ladder, which will also be used in the kitchen proper to reach the not-yet-begun upper cabinets there.
I moved my refrigerator into the dining room for a few months while I tore everything out and had the floors sanded and refinished. Going down to the basement to do dishes sucked enough that I got the sink base done quickly and hooked up the disposal and dishwasher with as little delay as possible.
And, my stove is now in place and hooked up. It taught me an expensive lesson: Do not replace a gas stove with a dual-fuel stove (or an all electric range, I suppose) without first making sure you have enough space on your electric panel to run that new stove. (I had to have a new panel put in…there went the budget!)
I built the cabinets just like Nancy Hiller teaches in “Kitchen Think” – except I use loose tenons where she used biscuits, because we have a Domino but no biscuit joiner. I did build one cabinet without loose tenons – screws only – and that was a mistake. The tenons (or biscuits) make it a heck of a lot easier to keep things in alignment as you drive screws. Always listen to Nancy.
I sure wish she were around to help me – or to at least weigh in on my choices. Or to simply share dinner with. (But I think she’d be proud I decided against a corner cabinet.)
Here’s how Nancy usually built kitchen cabinets (and how I do, too).
– Fitz
The method I use most often for built-in cabinetry combines simplicity and strength for the basic casework with materials and techniques for doors, drawers and finished panels that owe more to the world of furniture than that of contemporary commercial cabinetmaking. The technique that follows is a hybrid, drawing on what I learned at the different shops where I’ve worked. I have chosen materials and methods that make sense for my business, given my clientele and the styles in which I specialize.
Basic types of toe kick seen from the cabinet’s left end. The base cabinet at left has a flush kick. The one at right has a recessed kick.
I have worked on kitchen remodels managed by general contractors, but more often I’m working directly for clients. This is at least partly because installing the type of cabinets I most often build for kitchens is more labor-intensive and finicky than a lot of contractors want to bother with. They want to get their job done and return the kitchen to their clients as quickly as they can while doing high-quality work.
I get it. Before my husband and I were romantically involved, we were acquainted as tradespersons in the town we’d both made our home. The first job on which we collaborated was a wall of built-in bookcases. The clients had contracted with me to design and build them; Mark and his crew were going to do the installation. When we discussed the job initially, I asked about scribe rails for the sides where the bookcase face frames would meet the walls. “Life’s too short,” Mark commented. I was happy to be let off the hook and have him install the casework with applied trim, as he saw fit.
As time went on and we worked together on several kitchens, his attitude shifted. He still prefers not to scribe cabinets to their surroundings – it’s fiddly work that involves a fair amount of heavy lifting. As you get older, it hurts. But despite the aches, Mark has become expert at installing this type of cabinetry. A couple of years ago he even said he’d come to appreciate why I design and build kitchen cabinetry the way I do – it’s far more truly handmade than the majority of custom cabinetry. It allows the cabinetmaker (in this case, Mark’s wife) to use materials and techniques that are no longer common in this line of work, which translates to opportunities for the kind of satisfaction John Ruskin argued was every worker’s birthright.6 And in my experience, it’s clear that many clients appreciate the extra attention to detail, along with the awareness of history and craft that underlies it.
This is not to suggest that building and installing cabinets according to the following methods will be for everyone. It obviously isn’t. But considering how much flak I’ve had for my approach from fellow professionals over the years, it’s worth pointing out that a growing number of craftspersons and clients value this way of working.
The cabinet in the following example was designed for the kitchen of a 1912 house. I planned to scribe it to the floor and to the wall at its left; that’s why the face frame protrudes beyond the cabinet’s left side.
Unless you’re running a production facility where you build things in multiples to standard sizes, you should take the building work in stages instead of cutting all your parts at the start, based on a cutting list taken off drawings. That way you’ll have a chance to adjust the different parts to fit what you’ve made so far, instead of finding that your face frame is 1/16″ too narrow or you cut the recess for your kick 1/4″ too high.
Some people start with face frames, then build their carcases to fit. I work the other way around: Once the basic cases have been assembled, I move on to face frames. Then come doors and drawers.
Get Going
Now you have your scale elevations at hand and have made a cutting list based on them. My typical material for kitchen casework is 3/4″ maple-faced veneer-core plywood, prefinished on one side. The prefinished side goes to the cabinet interior; it saves a lot of time, which helps make my work affordable. That said, some jobs call for painted interiors or other finish treatments, so I always choose the sheet material to suit the job.
The next step is to cut your basic parts (sides, tops and cabinet floors) to size. Because I’m building each job to genuinely custom dimensions, some base cabinets may not be designed to end up 24″ deep or 34-3/4″ high. (For example, I love a 38″-high counter. It should go without saying that the carcase height must be adjusted to allow for the thickness of whichever counter material you’ll be using.) And even if most of the uppers in a kitchen job will be 12″ deep, one may be a 5″-deep spice cabinet, while another may be 16″ deep.
Rip all of the sides and floors to width. The edges and corners of sheet goods may not be square, and they often have minor damage, so it’s ideal to make the first rip slightly overwidth, then turn it around and rip the other edge to the size you require. That way you’ll have two square, clean edges for joinery.
Keep in mind how parts relate. Plan view of cabinet sides and back with face frame overhang (top). Front elevation showing face frame, door and drawer (bottom).
After ripping, cut the parts to length. There are various ways to do this. Aside from cutting each part accurately to length, it’s important to cut the ends square. You can do this with a track saw if you have one. Alternatively you can use a straightedge and a pattern cutting bit to rout one end square, then crosscut on a table saw, running that end along the fence. (The same technique will work with a radial arm saw for the second cut, which trims the piece to length.) My current method is to crosscut one end of each piece using a slider on my table saw, then cut it to length using the fence. Be sure you mark each part clearly as you cut it.
My method for joining cabinet floors to sides may not be refined, but it’s quick, simple and strong. I use a spacer made from scrap 3/4″ plywood to position the floor and support it. Twin-thread screws run in through the cabinet sides will fasten the whole thing together.
Your elevations will determine how high the kick needs to be and whether it will be flush or recessed. Calculate the height of the space that will be be neath the cabinet floor and rip spacers from scrap plywood to this width, then cut them to length. If your kick will be flush, the spacer should be a hair under the width of the cabinet sides in length; if the kick will be recessed, the spacer should be a hair under the width of the cutout portion at the bottom of each cabinet side.
Next, drill for the screws that will tie the sides together with the floor.
Most base cabinets do not need a solid plywood top. A strip several inches wide at the front and back offers plenty of material to tie the sides together and support a counter, and using less material lightens the weight of these substantial cabinets while minimizing waste. Sink bases in particular do not need a solid top; the vast majority of a sink base’s top will be cut out to accommodate the sink. For narrow cabinets (those 18″ or less wide) it’s usually quicker to go ahead and make a solid plywood top, following the same directions as those for a strip top.
The strips for a particular cabinet will be the same length as the floor for that cabinet, so cut them to length at the same time. The sides of the cabinet will be joined to these strips with twin-thread screws, but I also use biscuit joints, for increased strength as well as a positive means of locating the parts during assembly. Mark each strip with the cabinet name or number and “front” or “back,” so you’ll be able to identify quickly which end is right and left, and which long edge faces forward. It’s a good idea to have at least two biscuits in each strip to help prevent the strips from twisting during assembly.
If you have ever found yourself on hands and knees, searching for that custard pan in the very back of a base cabinet, you’ll understand why most cabinets today are made with drawers or pull-out trays on full-extension mechanical slides instead of with shelves concealed by doors. I rarely put shelves in base cabinets, but I do use them in upper cabinets and in shallow base units such as bookshelves.
When a cabinet will have adjustable shelves, I usually use 1/4″ pin-style supports, which are unobtrusive, extremely strong (I have used them to store large shelves of LPs) and fast. Now is the time to drill shelf support holes, because you can clamp the cabinet sides together and mark them at the same time. Lay out the positions with a long square.
Safety first. Drill shelf support holes close to the front and back of the shelf, where they will give the necessary support.
Shelf spacing may seem like a no-brainer, but even here it’s worth paying attention to a few considerations:
There is no point putting shelf support holes too close to the cabinet floor or top (or, in cases where there will be drawers above the shelf compartment, too close to the drawers) where there would not be enough room to store anything on the shelves. Think about what the shelves will need to hold and plan their spacing accordingly. If the bottom of the cabinet will be holding flower vases that are 12″ tall, there may not be any point putting shelf support holes lower than about 13″ above the cabinet floor.
Holes at the back of the cabinet should be about 1″ forward from the back edge to allow enough space for fingers when inserting and removing supports.
Holes near the front of the cabinet should be positioned close enough to the front edge of the shelves that they prevent the shelves from tipping when someone is putting an object away or taking it out. At the same time, take any lipping at the front edge of the shelf into account. In general it’s a good idea to center the front shelf support holes about 5/8″ on center behind the back face of a shelf lipping that hangs below the underside of the shelf.
Consider how much adjustability is really necessary for the shelves in a given cabinet. For cabinets that will store shorter items such as juice glasses and dishware, closer spacing may be warranted; I often lay these out at 1-1/4″ on center. For cabinets storing large items such as tall jars of dry goods, 2″ on center may be more practical. The point is to allow as much versatility in positioning the shelves as may be needed while avoiding the visual busy-ness of too many holes.
A typical upper unit. The top shows a plan view; at bottom is an elevation.
Assembly Time
With the basic carcase joints cut and shelf support holes drilled, you’re ready to glue up the cabinets. Run a bead of glue along the top edge of each floor spacer, then stand the sides on the floor, front edge facing up. (You can lean each side against a workbench, stationary machine or sturdy trash can to hold it temporarily.)
Set the cabinet floor in place between the sides, and clamp loosely. Depending on the size of the assembly and whether you have a helper, it may be more practical to hold the floor and sides together by clamping the floor to the bottom spacers instead of clamping across the cabinet’s width. At this point the clamp is just to hold the parts together while you insert the top (or top strips); there will be time to adjust the fit and get things square.
Now apply glue to the biscuit slots for the top (or top strips), insert the biscuits, and set the top in place. Apply a couple of clamps to hold the assembly together while you adjust the fit.
After squaring the cabinet, sight across the top edges to check for winding. Shim at the bottom as necessary to remove twist, then drill and screw. Let the cabinet sit until the glue has set, per the glue manufacturer’s instructions.
Vertical Dividers Plywood that’s prefinished on both sides comes into its own for vertical dividers. I measure for dividers at this point and fasten them in place with screws.
Instead of using a tape measure, I cut a couple of pieces of scrap plywood (one for the bottom, the other for the top) to the distance between the divider and the nearest cabinet side. Clamp the scrap in place and you have an instant way to drill the pilot holes, 3/8″ on center from the edge of the scrap. This method also makes locating the divider a snap when you’re ready to screw it in place.
Of course, you can’t insert that divider until you’ve cut it. Don’t precut dividers to size; cut them to fit. Otherwise you may find that your divider is too small. The most accurate way to determine a divider’s length is by setting one end in place and marking the other.
Wide cabinets should have support feet below or near vertical dividers to prevent sag. Make these from strips of 3/4″ plywood cut to the same height as the spacers supporting the cabinet sides. Screw a batten on each side of the foot through which you can fasten to the underside of the cabinet floor.
Excerpted from Nancy R, Hiller’s “Kitchen Think” – which I cannot recommend highly enough if you’re considering a kitchen renovation. And doubly so if you’re considering a sympathetic renovation for an older home
