Whenever I teach a class, I insist on building the project with the students. No shortcuts. No asking assistants to do my chopping. No afterhours CNC.
I do this for several reasons.
1. I want to demonstrate that the techniques I use are genuine. It would be easy for me to say: Do this. And then nitpick the students as they try to do my bidding. Screw that. If I can’t build it in the time allowed, how can they?
2. It makes me a faster joiner. When I build the project alongside the students I have to push myself to build it to a high standard. I have to be much faster than they are. And I have to float around the room and assist them as I work. I have to be able to produce tight joints while totally distracted. I have to do it while I’m talking. Honestly, I should be paying the students for the training this gives me.
3. It shows the students that anyone can do this. One of the frequent criticisms of my work is that I am “just a journalist.” That I don’t have “traditional training.” And I am not a “professional woodworker.”
All that is true. I don’t deny it. And I don’t care.
If I can build this stuff without some paper certificate, then you can, too. You can build stuff to a much higher level than many professional woodworkers, many of whom have to rely on pocket screws and biscuits to make a living (and there is NOTHING wrong with that).
It is the amateur class that can afford to make furniture to a crazy high standard. So bring it. Whether you are “just a programmer,” “just a firefighter” or “just an engineer,” you can build stuff that will last “just 200 years.”
An inquest was held this Friday on the body of a French Artisan who committed suicide under the following circumstances: Mr. John Wilson stated that the deceased had lodged with him for twelve months, and was apparently independent when he took the apartments. Lately he seemed to be pressed for money, and a fortnight ago told a witness he was an artisan who had saved money for the purpose of going into business.
The previous Saturday he brought home two large planks of wood and a large double handled knife, such as is used by tanners for scraping the hair off skins, but no notice was taken of it, the witness thinking it was for model-making.
On Monday his suicide was discovered, his head having been cut off by a guillotine. The two planks had been used as uprights at the top of which the knife had been placed. Grooves had been cut in the inner side of the planks for the knife to run easily and two heavy stones were bound to the upper side of the knife to give it weight.
By means of the pulley he had drawn up the knife and let it fall on his throat, the head being cut clean off. Confirmatory evidence having been given, the jury returned a verdict of unsound mind.
The Illustrated Police News – London 1876
Normally I would not publish material like this, but since Chris insisted on posting the Death by Roubo article last March, it is safe to say that this bridge has already been crossed. I’m not sure what he planned to do with all those leftover pieces of French oak from the FORP… though I have no reason to suspect that he is building his own guillotine. Besides, it is far more likely that Chris will meet his maker by some other means.
The Illustrated Police News (1864-1938) published a weekly penny newspaper featuring sensationalist stories about murder and crime. The illustrations were reminiscent of the 18th century publication The Newgate Calendar, or The Malefactors’ Bloody Register, originally a monthly bulletin of executions, produced by the Keeper of Newgate Prison in London. These tabloids were a popular form of entertainment for the working poor.
Anyone who has taken a class at Roy Underhill’s The Woodwright’s School knows that you don’t bring a tape measure to class. It will almost surely be confiscated and returned to you at the end of the class.
Today, however, Megan Fitzpatrick needed to cut down some 12’-long poplar sticks for a tool chest class she’s assisting me with this week. And she really wanted to use a tape measure to mark out her cutlines.
So while Roy was stirring the glue pot…
— Christopher Schwarz
P.S. You should see how she smuggled in a Japanese saw. Ye-ow.
Here you can see the color difference between the old mahogany and the new.
This week I’m finishing up a run of a dozen Benjamin Seaton try squares for friends and customers (sorry, they are all spoken for). Oh, and I’m going to talk about building them on “The Woodwright’s Shop” during a taping on Sunday.
The squares and the material I’m using are quite interesting in my opinion. Also interesting: The stupid mistake I made that led to a little detail about try squares I’d never considered.
The construction details of these squares comes from a must-have book for hand-tool nerds: “The Tool Chest of Benjamin Seaton 2nd Edition,” which is available at Tools for Working Wood and other retailers.
Seaton built three mahogany squares for his chest, and I’m replicating the small one, which has a 15”-long blade and a stock that is about 11” long.
Despite its simple appearance, this square is more challenging to build than the Roubo try square that I can now almost build in my sleep. Though the French square has more flash with its scrolled ends, the Seaton square has complicated joinery and wide chamfers that are tough to get just right.
The blade of the Seaton square is a two-pronged tenon that passes into the stock. The top tenon goes into an open bridle joint on the top of the stock. The lower tenon goes into a 1/4”-wide through-mortise.
The joint has to be bang-on to work. And when you assemble the square, you have to drive the blade in dead straight. Cock it at any angle and the blade splits.
In fact, all three of Seaton’s squares were split at this point – perhaps due to seasonal wood movement; perhaps to the assembly process.
The first time I built one of these squares in early 2012, I did a dumb thing. The drawings for the square are on the same page of the book as a profile drawing of Seaton’s scriber. At first glance, it looks like the drawing of the scriber is actually a drawing of the blade in plan view.
The reason I was so easily fooled by this gestalt is that the text indicates that the blades of the three squares taper in thickness. So I tapered the blades dramatically – like the taper of the scriber.
I discovered my mistake later, but in the meantime I used the snot out of the square and found that the tapered blade was ideal for hand work. When the square is applied to the edge of a board, the taper tilts the stock slightly so it reads only on the top corner of the board. This is nice if you are dealing with an edge that isn’t perfect or has lumps.
The Mahogany
Last year I bought a truckload of old wood from a retiring woodworker. As we were loading up the last of the stock, the woodworker’s wife implored me to take some old table parts that were cluttering up her garage.
They sure didn’t look like much – some busted tops and extension leaves that were covered in many coats of a black finish. I was hot, tired and ready to go home, so I threw the pieces on top of the pile in the truck and headed out.
Earlier this year, I pulled out some of the table parts to use as secondary wood on a campaign chest. The undersides of the pieces were covered with the tell-tale signs of handwork – no machine marks. Lots of sawblade marks from a large circular mill. All the hardware was let in by hand. Knife marks were everywhere. And the edge detail on the leaves was one that hasn’t been popular for a very long time.
Once I planed the finish off the boards, I was totally enchanted. The mahogany was darker, denser and tighter than any I’ve ever laid my hands on. And these boards were 30”-wide planks – not pieced together.
Even more shocking was what the stuff looks like with a little oil on it. It’s gorgeous and purple and dark – much like Seaton’s squares.
I still have two more planks of this stuff, perhaps enough for a small campaign lap desk.
— Christopher Schwarz
Here you can see the color difference between the old mahogany and the new.
At my current pace – about three significant pieces a month – I have enough rough lumber to keep me busy for the next two years.
But when I walked into Midwest Woodworking Friday morning, I knew I was going to buy more. Frank David and his employees had sorted through the shop’s stores and come up with a lot more incredible stuff, including a cache of 4/4 sugar pine that I’d never seen.
As we unpacked that particular pile, I pulled six 16”-wide (or wider) 100-percent clear 16’-long boards aside. At less than $5/board foot it was a steal. And I made it only one-third of the way through the pile.
Customers hit the amazing cache of 5/4 mahogany.
Then I hit the mahogany – I picked up enough 8/4 for eight Roorkhee chairs.
And then, the Sipo (Entandrophragma utile). Midwest has a half-dozen planks of 16/4 that are 24” wide and 14’ long. Beautifully figured. Clear. Completely dry. And about $9 a board foot.
Daryl of Midwest attempts to cut a Sipo plank on a radial arm so. No dice.Daryl tries a recip saw on a Sipo plank.
I bought a plank – about 128 board feet worth – and needed to crosscut it to get it into my truck. Neither radical-harm saw at Midwest would do the trick the Sipo was too thick. Then we tried a recip saw. It was slow. Finally, one of the other customers loaned me a little battery circ saw that was the solution. I cut through both faces with the circ saw. Then removed the waste between with the recip saw.
What’s the Sipo for? I am thinking ahead: H.O. Studley workbenches.
After hoisting each plank onto my personal pile, I said aloud: “That’s it. I’m done.”
Five planks later, everyone around started mocking me.
I took my wood home and unloaded it.
Today I returned to Midwest to help other customers. Somehow I ended up unpacking that pile of sugar pine again. And I got down to some 18”-wide boards that had been there for 40 years. After pulling every plank, I told myself: That’s it, I’m done.
Five planks later… I really was.
The wood and machinery sale was a bittersweet affair for me and Andy Brownell, who did a huge amount of work organizing the event. The owner, Frank David, was there on Friday and it’s clear his health has deteriorated. It was great talking to him and catch up.
He’s suffering from congestive heart failure and is staring death in the face with the same pluck and optimism he used to run Midwest for decades.
“They say people can live with this for eight to 10 years,” he said. “We’ll see.”
I’m not sure what is in store for Midwest, the lumber inventory or the machinery – it’s none of my business, really. But I can say that the legacy of Midwest Woodworking and Frank David will live on through my work for at least the next five years as I pick through the incredible pile of lumber that takes up an entire wall of my shop.
