I chew through a lot of mechanical pencils in a year. A workshop is a harsh environment for a tool that is supposed to be handled delicately at a drafting table – not treated like a crayon at a daycare for disturbed children (aka our machine room).
The reason most mechanical pencils don’t live long in a workshop is that the tip gets bent. Any movement of the tip, and the pencil lead won’t advance. Pencil game over. Second problem: The mechanism that advances the lead is easily gummed up by dust.
I’ve tried a half dozen brands on the spectrum from “disposable” to “intended for architects.” Only one has satisfied me. It’s the Pentel Graphgear 1000. They are a little expensive (less than $10), but are so durable that the higher price is irrelevant.
Why do they work so well? The tip retracts when not in use – protecting it from the abuses of the shop. The mechanism is quite clever. You press the button at the end of the pencil, and the tip extends and locks with a click. Further presses of that button advance the lead.
When you are done, you press the top of the pocket clip, and the tip retracts with a snap.
The .7mm pencil shown in this photo has lasted five years. That’s 956 years old in mechanical pencil years.
The Graphgear 1000 is available in a variety of lead widths – .3mm, .4mm, .7mm and .9mm. The .9mm is good for general layout. The .7mm is for fine layout lines. And the .4mm is useful (at times) for coloring in lines marked with knives that you need to fill in so you can see them.
I like them.
— Christopher Schwarz
FTC Part 255 Statement: This post has been sponsored in part by your mom.
Gather together documents written by early visitors to America, some 17th century laws and a few 19th century advertisements, run them through a woodworking sifter and what do you get? Read on and see.
A Few Trees of Interest
The early English voyages to “the new found land of Virginia” probed the coastline to document the commodities useful to the English economy. Observations on timber, plants for medicinal use, wildlife and water sources were documented for the corporations that would later have permission to colonize this new country.
Firs (or Firres) were noted by the 1605 and 1606 voyages that visited the northern coast of Virginia, now known as Maine.
They were astounded by the size of the trees and straight growth. This was the Eastern white pine, Pinus strobus.
Eastern White Pine, Pinus strobus.
Before the end of the 17th century the processing of this tree for use as single-stick masts was in full swing. In 1678 Judge Samuel Sewall of Massachusetts, owner of a sawmill in what is now Maine, made entries describing a mast “of about 26 Inches or 28 [diameter]” being pulled out by a large number of oxen. He also went to the coast and observed the departure of a mast ship to England.
The continued use of colonial trees for masts is noted by another visitor, Petr Kalm, of the Swedish Royal Academy of Sciences He made this observation in the autumn of 1748:
When the English explorers encountered a tree not native to Europe they would use the name supplied by the original residents of the land. In the 1585-1586 voyage made in the name of Sir Walter Raleigh (to the part of Virginia that is now known as Virginia), Thomas Heriot wrote:
The Rakiock turns out to be the Tulip Tree, or Tulip Poplar (also known by several other names). A beautiful tree with distinctive leaves and flowers.
Liriodendron tulipifera.
Petr Kalm also mentions this tree in his visit to Philadelphia:
Kalm continues: “It cannot but be very agreeable to see in spring, at the end of May (when it is in blossom) one of the greatest trees covered for a fortnight together with flowers, with regard to their shape, size and partly colour are like tulips, the leaves have likewise something peculiar, the English therefore in some places call the tree the old woman’ssmock, because their imagination finds something like it below the leaves.”
The uses of the tree are varied and not all joiners are agreed on how good it is:
A third tree described in George Weymouth’s 1605 voyage to the northern part of Virginia (Maine) is valued more for its medicinal uses:
The Sassafras tree (or using the ‘long s’ spelling, the saffafras), Sassafras albidum.
Petr Kalm also observed this tree in Philadelphia:
Kalm continued his entry on the sassafras tree with several accounts of how it was used to make a tea, the bark used to dye wool orange and other parts of the tree to treat illnesses.
Cherry trees were easily identified and noted in all the early voyages to North America. Petr Kalm made an important observation about the tree and the following statement is one of the reasons his notes remain valuable to scientists today.
One last tree for the spoon carvers, so-named the Spoon tree by Professor Kalm.
Mountain laurel, Kalmia latifolia.
A gift to Kalm from the first spoon makers in North America:
Nailes, Nayls and Nayles
During the 1585-1586 Walter Raleigh-sponsored voyage to Virginia a note on finding iron was made:
It would be many years before the colony would have the resources to process iron to make nails and other tools. As a consequence the first ships bringing colonists to the new land brought along: nails, nailes, nayls and nayles. And as the colonies grew the demand grew for nails from England. An 1684 order of goods from London included “…Iron is much wanted, and nayls very much vizt 6d 8d & 10d a Tunn of each sort would quickly sell…”
Timber was abundant but nails were not and it seems there is some evidence of colonists burning down buildings to salvage the nails. Two 17th century documents specifically reference burning buildings for nails.
The first is from the Assembly of Burgesses held at James Cittie for the term October 1644 to November 1645, the 19th year of the reign of Charles I. In the February 1645 session, Act VII was passed and is in two parts. The first part of the act made it unlawful to abandon a plantation once it had been seated. It was also illegal to take up a property that had been deserted unless the property was voluntarily relinquished and leased to another. The second part of the act reads:
When a plantation was seated it was the responsibility of the patent holder to protect the land. A large portion of the output of the land, such as tobacco, was a trade commodity controlled by England. If the patentee chose to leave the land (crop failure, other economic loss) they could not salvage nails by burning plantation buildings, thereby reducing the value of the property, and causing the next land patentee to incur the cost of rebuilding. To discourage the burning of a building the person vacating the plantation was compensated with nails equivalent to the number used in the building.
The second document is from Kent County in the Delaware colony. In 1682 this area was transferred to William Penn and he chartered the new Delaware colony. A new court town was to planned and a new courthouse was to be built. The existing courthouse was no longer needed and its demise was determined thusly:
This was a very frugal way to handle the old courthouse and make way for the new (which was finally built in 1697). Burning was an efficient mode of demolition and the nailes could be salvaged. Win-win.
Although it was illegal for colonists to make their own nails they eventually did. In some cases it was with the agreement of officials responsible for stopping such illegal operations sharing in the profits. Nail making was also a cottage industry and the nail makers were often women and children.
By the middle of the 18th century the English controls on colonial economies, increased taxes and no representation in the English Parliaments had the Americans chafing. Then came the Stamp Act.
Advertising is Everything in the New Republic
The American Republic, 1843, New York Public Library.
The furniture makers of today have multiple means to advertise their business: websites, blogs, social media, trade shows, etc. In the first 70 years of the New Republic the usual avenues involved newspaper ads, trade cards and labels. But some things never change. Your ads have to identify what you have to offer and get the customer interested in walking through the door.
In 1840 in Philadelphia J & A Crout placed this advertisement:
Joseph Downs Collection, The Winterthur Library.
This ad is remarkable for the reference to the Franklin Institute and the emphasis on American furniture made with American woods. The Franklin Institute regularly held exhibits on American manufacturing, inventions and scientific advancements, and was very popular with the public. A potential buyer of furniture could see the wood specimens from the exhibit and see furniture made with the same wood. And there are two locations with specific details on each location: over the paper store, across from the State House. Additional details are the trees at the top (American wood) and the eye-catching sofa on-end (otherwise it would be empty space and ad space is money) and the intricate border.
Locations of J & A Crout in Philadelphia in 1840.
Philadelphia developed as an industrial center after the Embargo of 1807 crushed the importation of European goods. In 1840 it was no longer the largest American city but was bustling with industry and competition. Your business advertisement had to set you apart from your competitors.
In 1843 William Allen placed an ad in the Winchester Patriot. His business was in rural Randolph County, Indiana, (along the western border of Ohio) and his ad is a bit different from the Philadelphia-based business. Allen was in a region that was part of the westward expansion of the Republic.
Library of Congress in Indiana Historical Society Publication Vol. 25, No. 1.
His eye-catchers: the first word is what he makes, then an image of what he makes, followed by a catchy slogan. He thanks the past patrons of his business and ensures customers he will be able to meet future demand for furniture. His slogan appeals to the frugal nature of a farming community that needs well-made furniture at an economical cost. The list of items he will accept for payment range from beef cattle to produce and offers his customers flexibility in how they pay. He understands his customers.
The Indiana Historical Society has a few more details about William Allen and his business. He was born around 1821 in Ohio making him in his early 20s when the advertisement was placed in the local paper. He was a cabinetmaker sometime before 1843 until sometime after 1850. In 1850 he had four men in his shop and the annual output included “30 Bureaus $360; 250 Bedsteads $1250; 30 Tables $150; Other Articles $500.” I was able to find a map dated in the mid-1860s showing ownership of farming acreage around Winchester, Indiana and there was a tract of some 40 acres owned by a W. Allen. Did he take up farming after cabinetmaking? We don’t know.
One final ad to consider. When I was mapping the two locations of the J & A Crout business I found another Philadelphia advertisement in the form of a packing label dated 1850.
1850 from The Library Company of Philadelphia.
Ten years after the J & A Crout advertisement one of the two locations, 173 Chestnut St. (across from the State House), was now occupied by a George Henkels. Meanwhile, William Allen was still in business in rural Indiana.
The gallery has a few more items for your perusal.
Want to read more American tree and timber-related blog posts? You can read about the Eastern white pine here. The Chicago and Great Lakes lumber trade is here.
I wrote about the following trick to reduce splitting when nailing in “The Anarchist’s Design Book.” Since then, I’ve caught flack from people who say it’s not true. So much so that I’ve been doubting my own shop experience.
Here’s the problem: When you nail together a piece – especially using cut nails or Rivierre nails – it’s easy to blow out the end grain, reducing the holding power of the nail. Driving a tapered nail is a delicate balance. You need the nail to bite hard, so you don’t want to use a huge or too-long pilot hole. But if you use a pilot hole that is too small or short, the nail will split the work and ruin everything. Oh, you also have to account for the wood species and how thick it is.
It’s a balance of factors to get a good joint. (And that’s why I recommend you make a test joint before nailing together anything – especially if you’ve never worked with a particular brand of nail or species of wood.)
All this is a lot of set-up for…
A common split. This joint was unclamped when I drove the nail.Here’s the joint (a few inches away from the failed joint) after the joint was clamped hard while I drove the nail.
Here’s the Trick If you apply a bar clamp across the end grain of the joint, you can reduce the tendency of the wood to split out the end grain. The clamp has to apply significant pressure for this to work.
Today I tried a variety of strategies as I nailed together a mule chest using 40mm Rivierre nails. All the joints were in Eastern white pine. All the pilot holes were the same diameter (7/64”) and depth (7/8”). And all the holes were located the same distance (7/16”) from the end of the board.
Without a clamp, about half of the joints busted out the end grain (good thing I started at the rear of the chest). When I added a clamp and applied hard clamping pressure – what you would use to close a joint – the failure rate dropped to zero.
I wondered if I needed to have the clamp at full pressure. What if the clamp’s pad simply acted as a wall to prevent the end grain from fracturing? Nope. Clamp pressure – lots of it – was important to keep the joint intact while driving the nail.
I have all sorts of thoughts on why this hard clamp pressure works. But I am weary of theories. If you’ve read this far, give this trick a try yourself in the shop before pontificating in the comments.
Confession: I was greatly relieved that this trick still worked. The internet had made me doubt myself again.
One of the kitchens among those in the book I’m writing for Lost Art Press is in a newly built house on a hilltop in a spectacular rural location. When the clients first contacted me about their kitchen, they described the architectural character of the house as “farmhouse style.” But their architect’s drawings – beautiful artifacts in their own right – launched me into a mini-rant on this widespread misnomer.
The story behind this simple, affordable cabinetry for my clients’ kitchen will be in the book.Google “farmhouse style” and you’ll find thousands of links to furnishings, blog posts and print publications based on misinformation. On the one hand, you’ll find vapid marketing-speak such as the following, in a post billing itself as “The Ultimate Guide to Farmhouse Style”: Farmhouse style is “unpretentious” and “all-American,” according to the author. “Nodding to its homegrown roots, farmhouse style homes have a collected-over-time look, complete with old-school prints, distressed furnishings, and vintage finishes.”[1] The kitchens and other rooms provided in this post by way of illustration are indistinguishable from those of suburban condos across the land, although you may find a throw pillow or dish towel made to evoke associations with old flour sacks, or an old saw with a barn painted on it hanging over a door.
On the more substantive end of the misinformation spectrum you’ll find images of dining rooms with wide-plank floors, exposed beams (whether real or made of high-density polyurethane such as the brand-name product Fypon), vaulted ceilings clad with reclaimed wood and interior walls of exposed brick or stone (again, whether structural or simply a decorative product applied to the surface, which some traditional masons derisively call “lick ‘n’ stick”) as illustrations of farmhouse style. Here, some effort has at least been made to relate to an aesthetic traditionally found on farms. The problem is one of misidentification: The aesthetic is drawn not from the farmhouse, but from the barn.
Historically, farmhouses have simply been houses on farms. They were (and still are) built in the prevailing architectural style of their time and location – a simple 1890s Gothic Revival here, a charming 1920s story-and-a-half bungalow there, a 1915 I-house or a 1950s ranch. These real farmhouses are visible in rural areas across the country. Not having yet had a chance to photograph a few for the book, I’m illustrating this post with examples from a favorite alternative source, a building almanac for farmers published by the United States Gypsum Company in 1946 – clearly in an effort to sell the company’s building products in addition to providing a variety of practical advice. Several years ago, my friend Kim Fisher (my version of Lost Art Press’s Saucy Indexer) came across this gem and sent it to me.
“Mrs. M.” recommends adding a screened porch. Remodeling advice for farm homes in the 1946 “Business of FARMING Building Almanac: 748 Ideas for Building-Remodeling-Decorating.” (United States Gypsum Co.) Notice the radical change to the architectural style of the house from the “before” to the Colonialized “after.”
“Use color for a common denominator,” advises the 1946 “Business of FARMING Building Almanac: 748 Ideas for Building-Remodeling-Decorating.” (United States Gypsum Co.)
Historically speaking, there is no such thing as “farmhouse style”; it’s a mish-mash of superficial farm-evoking tropes, albeit one that tens of thousands now refer to by that name. In reality, the association of “farmhouse style” with exposed structural elements and a stripped-down, whitewashed aesthetic derives from the culture of barns.
It’s funny how words don’t change but the reader does. About 18 years ago, I can distinctly recall reading John Brown’s column titled “An Uncertain Element of Success” in Good Woodworking (April 2001, issue 107) and being blown away.
The column opens with a poem by D.H. Lawrence (who the heck begins a woodworking column with a poem?) and delves into a discussion of handwork and mistakes of the hand. Because the poem is about as good a chairmaking poem as you’ll find, here it is:
What is He?
What is he?
– A man, of course.
Yes, but what does he do?
– He lives and is a man.
Oh quite! But he must work. He must have a job of some sort
– Why?
Because obviously he’s not one of the leisured classes.
– I don’t know. He has lots of leisure. And he makes quite beautiful chairs.
There you are then! He’s a cabinet maker.
– No, no
Anyhow a carpenter and a joiner.
– Not at all.
But you said so
– What did I say?
That he made chairs and was a joiner and carpenter
– I said he made chairs, but I did not say he was a carpenter.
All right then he is just an amateur?
– Perhaps! Would you say a thrush was a professional flautist, or just an amateur?
I’d say it was just a bird
– And I say he is just a man.
All right! You always did quibble.
John Brown opened this particular column with: “A good friend told me about this poem.” And at the time I thought nothing of it. As it turns out, the “good friend” was Chris Williams, who is writing the book “The Life & Work of John Brown,” which we hope to release early next year.
Chris was more than just a good friend to JB, and he is a chairmaker who is both attached to John Brown through long history and is apart from him in a lot of ways. When we set out to publish this book about John Brown, the early discussions were to provide a woodworking biography of John Brown and show how his work had progressed incredibly since the publication of “Welsh Stick Chairs” in 1990.
What has transpired since is difficult to explain in words. Chris Williams is forever tethered to John Brown, and his forthcoming book will be true to the spirit and memory of this great man.
But what I have learned during the last four years of knowing Chris is that he is more than just an observer of the John Brown story. He is today a very different chairmaker than John Brown. Here’s my best explanation. I’m sure I’ll get it wrong.
Chris is forever indebted to JB. Every sentence he speaks about chairmaking is suffused with the foundation that JB laid. But Chris’s work travels in a different arc than his teacher’s. And this is at the absolute insistence of JB himself. You’ll see all this in Chris’s book.
In the meantime, read the poem a few more times. Scrawl it on the wall of your shop. And wait patiently for Chris’s book.
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