Recently we came across an old type of bow-saw which had been sent to a veteran village carpenter for repair. Its precise origin could not be traced except that, a couple of generations ago, it had come from the estate workshop of a north-country peer. The feature of the tool is an ingenious method of tightening the saw when special rigidity is required. As, too, the saw frame could be made at home, a brief description may be of interest.
The arms (A), of 7/8 in. beech, are about 21-1/2 ins. long, shaped as indicated. Width at top (extreme) is 1-3/4 ins. and at the blade end 1-1/2 ins. The arms are chamfered as shown for comfortable handling, bored for the 1/4 in. top rod, slotted for the saw and notched for the cross stay (B). This latter is of 7/8 in. by 5/8 in., the 5/8 in. width showing on face.
The saw blade is 2-1/4 ins. wide, toothed as shown, and the threaded straining rods have the type of swivel indicated for tightening. The saw may be used for any kind of cross-cutting, plank or round timber, up to a thickness of over 9 ins.
FIG. 2. DETAIL OF EXTRA STAY
Tightening Device. Turning to Fig. 2, it will be seen that this bow-saw is provided with a second cross-stay (C) which, with the saw shortened, can be fitted to exert special pressure on the blade.
This extra stay is the same as (B) except that it is shaped from a length of beech 1-1/2 ins. wide full by 5/8 in., the swell in the middle being required for piercing on the bevel. This bevel is shown in detail. The stay (B) passes through the bevelled aperture in stay (C), extra notches being cut in the arms (at E) to receive the short tenons on the stays.
The advantage of these crossing stays will be obvious. When the saw blade is adjusted to length, the cross stays fitted and the straining rod tightened, extra strong pressure is applied to the arms at the points XX and the saw will remain rigid for the heaviest work.
In its normal position (Fig 1), the frame, over all, measures fully 2 ft. 6 ins., the height being about 1 ft. 8-1/2 ins.
FIG. 3. IRON COLLAR OF STAY
On the saw described the extra cross stay (C), instead of being thicknessed at the middle, is fitted with an iron collar 4-1/2 ins. long, as at Fig. 3. The opening in this collar has bevelled sides through which the other stay (B) passes. The stay (C) is of course in two parts, both bevelled to fit tightly into the collar. It is believed that the original stay was thicknessed as in Fig. 2, and that the collar was added later as a repair. The collar itself represents an exceptionally neat piece of ironwork.
Basically, a mortice is a hole. With hand tools, you can chop it out with mortice chisels or drill out the waste and pare to the lines. But we use a morticing machine.
Joinery – that’s what this is about. Joints that hold components together. In this case, versions of one joint, the mortice and tenon. There are on this bench frame three different versions: stub mortices and tenons; through-wedged mortices and tenons; and through dry-tusk-wedged mortices and tenons. So that you can take this structure apart to move it, the tusk wedges are just friction fit, but the bench is solid as a rock when assembled.
To gain strength, we use wedges in two of the three joints. In the knockdown joint, the top of the mortice is angled – a wedge is driven in above it to hold the structure. But this is getting too complex too soon – let’s look at the simple through-wedged mortice-and-tenon joint.
Basically, a mortice is a hole. With hand tools, you can chop it out with mortice chisels or drill out the waste and pare to the lines. But we use a morticing machine, which saves lots of work. This is basically a drill bit that cuts slightly ahead of a square cutter that chops out the corners.
First let’s get into marking-out mode. This diagram gives you the idea. Mark distinctly both the component position and the mortice position. Mark the mortice with a mortice gauge, with the knives set 30mm apart. As always, mark from the face side of each component.
This is the type of drawing that I like to see every student make before making a joint – it helps one to think about what is being done, and to think about the mechanics of this joint. This is not just a peg in a hole with glue; it’s a mechanically effective joint that would hold up without any glue. The two small wedges turn the tenon into a dovetail, splayed wider at the outside than the inside. It’s as tough as old boots.
The completed mortices.
First make the hole (the mortice) then the plug (the tenon) to fill it. Our morticer cuts pretty cleanly; I like and use machines that save me time and do a better job than I could. Chopping out a mortice by hand is nice and sweaty work – and some of you will be happy doing it.
The tenon gets marked out with the same mortice gauge setup (30mm, marked from the face edge). We use a setup on the band saw to cut those tenon cheeks to exactly the right size. Because this joint gets cut a lot, a dedicated setup for it makes good sense.
Have a careful look at the drawing above right, noting the stop and spacer at the bottom of the page. This stop is simply a block of wood cramped to the band saw table. Next to it is 31.5mm-wide spacer against the fence. The fence has a stop at the end to prevent you from going too deep past the shoulders. The idea is this: After the first cut, you need to move the fence 31.5mm to make the second cut and get a 30mm tenon. Try it out with some scrap. Cut one tenon cheek, take the spacer out, move the fence then cut the second shoulder. Does this give you the tenon you want? If not, cut a new spacer, thicker or thinner, as needed.
Band saw setup for cutting tenons, plan view.
Make sure your blade is good and sharp and that you run slowly into the blade. Chunka, chunka, chunka….
We cut the tenon shoulders at the table saw. The blade height will be the same for all; the shoulder position will be measured for all and a stop set up probably off the end length. Tenon lengths will be different for the different kinds of joints.
’A peep into the ancient carpenter shop in back of house’ glass negative, photo by Alfred Hand, 24 October 1921. Collection of the Library Company of Philadelphia.
In 1744 John Wister built a summer house in Germantown, a rural area northwest of Philadelphia. The house later became the primary residence of the family and was known for its gardens, orchards and farm. When Charles Jones Wister (1782-1865), grandson of John, inherited the property he named it Grumblethorpe. He took the name from ‘Think-I-To-Myself’ a comedy by Edward Nares.
The Historic American Building Survey of 1934 notes, “Charles J. Wister had a taste for mechanics and in 1819, added a frame workshop.”
Composite from Sheets 1 and 2 of the Historic American Buildins Survey, February & March, 1934. Collection of the Library of Congress.
Wister’s workshop was on the second floor of the extension with a loft above. In the photo of the shop you can see the steps in the back left corner leading to the loft.
Portion of Sheet 3, Historic American Building Survey, February 1934. Collection of the Library of Congress.
In the survey drawing of the second floor the workshop addition is at the very top, on the right is an enlargement of the shop. His shop was a generous 26’ by 10’-10’’ with a forge (F) connected to the chimney and a bellows (G) that was positioned below a cupboard.
The lathes (see photo) are under the windows in the back right corner. The cabinetmaker’s bench was likely on the left hand wall (under window #213?).
Exterior of the shop, 1921, photo by Alfred Hand. Library company, Philadelphia.
In 1920, a year before the workshop photo was taken, Jones Wister, great-nephew of Charles, published ‘Jones Wister’s Reminiscences’ with a chapter on his great-uncle. Here are excerpts with a brief description of the workshop:
”…The youngest of his family, born 1782, he early showed desire for learning and excelled at school and in college. He was celebrated as an astronomer, poet, lecturer and skilled mechanic.
Much time was given to his books and philosophical studies. His recreation was found in his workshop, where he had a forge, two turning lathes, and a cabinet-maker’s workbench, together with numerous mechanical tools.
At the last visit I paid my cousin at Grumblethorpe, I asked permission to revisit his father’s workshop, and found it just as I remembered and my great-uncle had left it, everything covered with dust, but intact, as it was sixty or seventh years ago. Nothing had been disturbed. He was to Germantown what the Weather Bureau is to the country. Three times daily he took the temperature, read his barometer, making careful notes, which were regularly published in the GermantownTelegraph, then owned and edited by Philip R. Freas.
He had an observatory, equipped with a telescope, through which he watched the heavens, and upon every clear day, observed the sun crossing the zenith. He issued bulletins of the time, and every clock in Germantown was set by his standard.
…He was a remarkedly versatile genius, for besides all his other accomplishments, he could repair clocks, and many which needed repairs were put into working order by his hands…
I should have taken more interest in my great-uncle’s educational researches, had not his shop possessed greater attractions. The long and short foot lathe, beautiful cabinet-maker’s bench, not to mention the blacksmith’s forge, won my enchanted admiration, and were much more to my taste. For here it was he turned the Wister tops, celebrated among all Germantown boys. These tops were made from dogwood, could not be split, but could split the tops of any playmate opponent, whose top was unlucky enough to be hit.
There are a few men still living today for whom my great-uncle turned a spinning top…He was a merry and humorous old gentleman, and when a new boy would be presented to him would astonish him by asking, “Why is a cranberry tart like a pump handle?” After the boy had puzzled awhile, he would quietly say, “There is no resemblance.”
The Bucks County Historical Society in Doylestown, Pennsylvaia has some of the tops make by Wister, other small items and some of his tools.
In 1820 Wister started a notebook to record his workshop activites and titled it, ‘Various Recipes & Formulae Used in the Shop.’ I believe the notebook is in the Eastwick Collection of the American Philosophical Society in Philadelphia with no digital copy available. However, in early 2010 an enterprising young intern at the APS posted several photos of items from the Eastwick Collection including this recipe from one of Wister’s notebooks:
Charles Wister was one of the early users of photography in Philadelphia and, according to notations in the APS archive, he took photos of Grumblethorpe. Did he take photos of his workshop? If so, and if they survived, the APS may have them.
Another item from the enterprising intern. A photo by Charles Wister with himself at the front door of the house dated 1860. Collection of the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia.Charles J. Wister
What mysteries are waiting in the the various archives holding Charles Jones Wister Sr.’s notebooks and photographs? For now, we have one photograph taken 56 years after Wister died and a sparse account of the workshop that is dated around the same time. I will be sending a note to the Operations Manager for Grumblethorpe to find out what remains in the workshop and possibly get some photos.
1912 ad for the Pike Manufacturing Co., Haverhill, New Hampshire.
That’s a pretty good incentive don’t you think? Sharpen your tools and stop swearing.
EverybodyDoesIt – A Sharpening World Tour
“The Polisher”
Neolithic polissoirs, characterized by straight grooves and a shallow basin, were used to sharpen axes, arrows and blades. If you encounter one you will see, and feel, that the grooves and basin remain smooth compared to the rough surface of the rest of the boulder. The Polisher in the photo above is on the Malborough Downs, Wiltshire, England. Polissoirs are also found in France.
Whakarewa.
Whakarewa is a grindstone used by generations of Maori. It sat in Mimiha stream until it was moved in the 1920s to make room for roads and other development.
The Romans mined whetstones in North Gaul (present day Northern France and Belgium), Crete and in other areas they conquered. The whetstones from North Gaul have been found in settlements dating to the 1st century C.E.
Some of the whetstones from North Gaul, such as the one above, have been found buried beneath the main support posts of buildings. It is not known what symbolic meaning the stones had for the builders or occupants of the buildings. Did a stone taken from the earth then used to sharpen tools or weapons become a powerful protector once placed back in the earth?
Louis-Charles Bombled, late 19th/early 20th century, Musee Jurassien des Art Moutier, Switzerland.
Roubo mentions sharpening stones as one of the necessary tools to be provided in a workshop. In Blombled’s crowded workshop, a sharpening station is right where it should be – close to the benches.
Top: collotype with hand coloring, MFA, Boston. Bottom: unattributed photo. Both are late 19th/early 20th century.
The Japanese workshops/work areas may be different from the European model, however, an area for sharpening was set up. At top, a chisel is being sharpened; in the bottom photo, (left foreground) sharpening stones and a water basin are at the ready.
A convenient placement for a sharpening stone, 1920s from “China at Work” by Rudolf Hommel.
A sharpening stone was placed near an entrance. Whether you are coming or going, it’s a good reminder to sharpen your tools.
There is some evidence of pillars or other stone supports that were designated “sharpening spots” on large construction sites, especially when the constructions lasted decades or longer. The Cathedral of Valencia has such a spot near an entrance that is marked with deep vertical grooves.
Detail from Plate 12, “To Make as Perfectly as Possible.”
In Plate 12, Roubo illustrates the tools needed to sharpen saws. He includes a saw set, triangular file and a saw-holding vise to be secured on the workbench.
Top: detail from “Preparatory Drawing in the Style of Hokusai,” 1811, British Museum. Bottom: “Totomi Sanchu,” 1830-31, by Hokusai, MFA, Boston.
Positioned close to sawyers cutting massive pieces of lumber we find the saw sharpeners. One uses a vise made of blocks, while another has adapted a tree stump to serve as a vise. (The full-size images of the drawing and woodblock print are in the gallery at the end of this post.)
In this shop setting we see another saw vise option and it includes a stabilizing foot.
One more set-up for sharpening saws in the field (or forest). Using a low staked bench and shaped wooden “grippers” (and maybe some wedges) the pit saw is secured for sharpening. Side note: the photo is unattributed but is possibly Russian as the lower word in the logo (bottom right) is Russian for joiner or carpenter.
Women’s Land Army/Women’s Forestry Corps, Britain, WWI, Imperial War Museum.
Is that a woman sharpening a two-woman saw in a lumber camp? Why yes, yes it is.
Left: Ichikawa Danjuro in the Role of Soga Goro from the play “Yanone,” ca. 1790, MFA, Boston. Top right: unattributed photo, late 19th/early 20th century. Bottom right: detail from “A Book Mirror of Various Occupations,” 1685, MFA, Boston.
This composite is a reminder of how little has changed in using sharpening stones on metal edges. A domed stone in a water basin (or a nearby basin) is used by sword makers 200 or more years apart. In a kabuki play, Yanone (Arrowhead) Goro sharpens a double-headed arrow as he prepares to avenge his father’s murder.
Whetstones
From a 1650 version of “Cries of London.”
One of the great values of whetstones is their portability. Take them into the field or forest. Pack them in your tool box for the trip to the next job site. Whetstone quarries abound with some in operation for centuries.
Eidsborg Whetstone Quarry, Norway.
The Eidsborg quarry in Tokke, Telemark, Norway, was in operation from at least the 8th century until 1970.
Initial trimming of a whetstone. Watercolor from the diaries of Peter Orlando Hutchinson, 1854.
In the Blackdown Hills near the Somerset-Devon border in southwest England whetstones were mined from the 17th century to the early 20th century. Miners had small individual stakes on the side of a hill. The men of the family (father and older boys) dug the mine shaft, hewed out the stone and did the initial shaping with a basing axe. The wife and small children of the family did the final shaping. It was a hard way to make a living and exposure to fine stone particles and dust affected the health of the entire family.
Blackdown Hills whetstone “batts.”
Whetstone batts from the Blackdown Hills were used to sharpen scythes and other farm implements and tools.
Roy Underhill at a played-out whetstone quarry.
One of the many explorations undertaken by Roy Underhill was to locate an old whetstone quarry near Chapel Hill, North Carolina. His trip, and what he found, is in a chapter of his book “The Woodwright’s Companion.”
RotatingGrindstones
Psalm 63, “Utrecht Psalter,” Universiteitsbibliotheek, Utrecht. Digital image from the Warburg Institute Iconographic Database.
The earliest (so far) illustration of a rotary grindstone is from the 9th century “Utrecht Psalter.” It is supposedly a metaphor for “They sharpen their tongues like swords…” The grinder (grinding master?) sits high above the grindstone and to the side his minion turns a crank. Later manuscripts give us a better idea of the arrangement of this type of grindstone.
Top: “Luttrell Psalter,” 1340, British Museum. Bottom: fresco, 1425-40, Palazzo della Ragione, Padua, photo by Renzo Dionigi.
The top image provides a variation on a bird’s-eye view of this stationary grinder. The fresco below provides a much better view of how the grinder sat above the rotating stone. The lower half of the stone sits in a well of water and the minion turns the crank. This type of set-up could be found where large amounts of metal might be wrought, such as a large farming estate and shops making armor and weapons. The hand crank gave control over the speed of the grinding wheel.
Top left: “Cris de Paris,” 1500, BnF, Arsenal. Bottom left: “Cries of London” (source unknown), 1655. Right: “Cries of London” (source unknown), 1688.
If you lived in a city and had knives and scissors (or sciffars, or cifers) that needed sharpening a street vendor with a grinding wheel was readily available. The grinding wheel was propelled by a foot pedal and the vendor could use both hands. The vendor on the right has a cup (behind the larger wheel) to hold water or oil and on the frame there is a rag to wipe the blade clean (Chris has christened these rags, woobies).
Mr. Bert Smith, Bethnal Green in East London, c. 1949-1956, photo by Nigel Henderson, collection of the Tate.
The bicycle, both to turn the grindstone and to propel the cart, was another iteration of the portable grinder. Street vendors using foot or bicycle power can still be found in some large cities, but it is more common to visit a small shop or farmers’ market to have knives or scissors sharpened. That is why having a woodworker as a friend is a bonus.
Smaller versions of the stationary grinder became an asset to both large and small woodworking shops.
From “Lewis Miller: Sketches and Chronicles; Reflections of a Nineteenth Century Pennsylvania German Folk Artist,” 1810.
In 1810, Lewis Miller, carpenter and chronicler of York, Pennsylvania, has a small hand-cranked grinder in his shop.
Women’s Land Army/Women’s Forestry Corps, Britain, WWI, Imperial War Museum.
And just over 100 years later hand-cranked grinders were still in use. Electric bench grinders are most often in use today and remain an important tool in a woodworker’s shop.
There is one more pre-electric “bench” grinder to examine and that requires a short trip to Switzerland in 1367.
The “Spiezer Chronik” was commissioned to document the history of Bern, from its founding to the mid-15th century. It was written by Diebold Schilling, the Elder of Bern. The chronicle includes a lot of action from the very-long Burgundian Wars and wonderful color illustrations.
On page 367 there is a scene at a river. On one side stands an army and on the other a forest. The explanation of the scene is: “The Bishop of Basel wants to cut down the Bremgarten forest, for which the Berners provide him with the grindstone, 1367.”
The accommodating people of Bern provided benches with hand-cranked grindstones, water buckets and whetstones. Extra grindstones are arranged on the trees. The Bishop brought the axes. Sit astride a low bench and hand-crank the grindstone, what an idea.
PickOne
If you listen to most of the experienced woodworkers out there they will tell you it doesn’t matter what system of sharpening you use.
The Arrotino (with woobie over his shoulder), 1st century B.C.E, Roman copy of an Hellenistic original, Uffizi, Florence.
Use sharpening stones, water or oil. Don’t forget the woobie.
“Axe Sharpener” by Chicago-area artist and rock musician Jay Ryan. From Sebastian Foster online.
Use a file to get those burrs. And yes, bears do sharpen in the woods.
From delcampe.net.
Go old school and use the classic “head-over-grindstone”method. If need be, your dog can be a counterweight.
The point is: chose a method, learn it and use it to sharpen your tools.
Resources
On this blog go to the Categories drop down menu (on the right) and look for “Sharpen This.” There you will find Chris Schwarz’s full series on sharpening.
Many books published by Lost Art Press include discussions on sharpening. One place to start is Chapter 10 “Essential Sharpening Kit” in “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest.”
You can read about the woobie, ahem, “The SuperWoobie” here.
We’ve a plethora of woodworking classes on offer for the second half of 2019 – most of them from visiting instructors (some from far, far away).
In most cases, classes are limited to six students (the number of benches we have available, plus one for the instructor) – so the instructor has plenty of time to pay attention to you…whether you want that or not!
The storefront (837 Willard St., Covington, Ky., 41011) is located just south of the Covington, Ky., MainStrasse entertainment district, in a safe neighborhood with lots of food and drink options, as well as accommodations at various price points, from inexpensive Air BnBs to an awfully nice hotel (that honestly isn’t pricey by most big-city standards), all within walking distance.
Registration opens at 10 a.m. Eastern on January 21 for the classes below (click through to each for a description). Registration is free on Eventbrite (and I strongly recommend signing up for the waitlist if you don’t get into the class you want – cancellations do happen). About three weeks after registration opens, I send each instructor his or her class list, and you are billed by the instructor (not by Lost Art Press or me – unless it’s my class, of course).
And as I’ve written before, this is not a woodworking school; it’s a woodworking shop in which some classes are taught. Christopher Schwarz runs not only the editorial side of Lost Art Press out of the space, but also his own furniture business, and he kindly allows both Brendan Gaffney and me to use the space for furniture work as well. The classes are a lot of fun…but they are also a lot of work – amidst the other work – which is to say that while we’ll still have some in 2020, we will not be able to have as many. So if there’s one you’re eyeing below, be ready at your computer on Jan. 21 at 10 a.m., and type quickly (they do tend to fill quickly).
If you’ve any questions, shoot me an email at covingtonmechanicals@gmail.com (please do not send questions about classes to the LAP help desk).
Charles Wister was one of the early users of photography in Philadelphia and, according to notations in the APS archive, he took photos of Grumblethorpe. Did he take photos of his workshop? If so, and if they survived, the APS may have them.
