Antique Woodworking Tools A Guide To The Purchase, Restoration and Use of Old Tools For Today's Shop

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Antique Woodworking Tools

A Guide to the Purchase, Restoration
and Use of Old Tools for Today's Shop
BY MICHAEL DUNBAR
DURING THE eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,

virtually all furniture and homes were built with
out the use of machinery, depending solely on
hand workmanship and specially designed tools.
Now Michael Dunbar, a professional woodworker
who practices the techniques of pre-industrial
woodworking and who is the author of Windsor
Chairmaking, brings together infonnation about
the toob of the period for amateur and profes
sional woodworkers and collectors of antique
woodworking tools.He is a craftsman who loves
his work and wishes to share his experience with
others.
In his own words, "The reason why a modern

woodworker would want to practice his craft with
antique tools is a very subjective one ...a matter
of his personal preference ... a person who is
able to use these more demanding implements is
rewarded by a tremendous sense of satisfaction
...using pre-industrial tools is a more contem
plative approach that deeply involves the practi
tioner with both his craft and his medium."
In order to understand antique tools thor

oughly, one must place them in history and then
examine their role in the society that uses them.
Therefore any explanation must consider three
things: the medium they were used to work, the
men who owned them and the products made by
these craftsmen.The author covers these subjects
in a way to interest a variety of readers.For those
who wish to carry their interest into practice he
explains that the tool boxes, once carefully main
tained by proud American woodworkers, have
long since been broken up, their contents de
stroyed or scattered. What survived has lain about
idle for as long as half a century. Consequently,
pre-industrial woodworking tools always require
some restoration and regular maintenance. The
author not only describes how these tools were
used, but also the techniques of rehabilitating and
servicing them. (continued on back flap)
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Michael Dunbar

A GUIDE TO THE
PURCHASE, RESTORATION AND USE
OF OLD TOOLS FOR TODAY'S SHOP
by
Michael Dunbar
Photographs by Eric White
HASTINGS HOUSE . PUBLISHERS
New York 1 00 1 6
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To Pepe who was so patient and faithful

and
To Duncan who filled his place.
Copyright ( c) 1 9 7 7 by John Michael Dunbar
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise,
without the prior permission of the copyright owner or the publishers.
Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data
Dunbar, Michael. Antique woodworking tools.

Includes index.
1 . Woodworking tools History. 1. Title.
TTI86.D86 684'.082 77-23350
ISBN 0-8038-5821-3
Published simultaneously in Canada by

Saunders of Toron to, Ltd . , Don Mills, Ontario
Printed in the United States of America

Contents
Foreword 6
Chapter I Why Use Old Tools? 9
Chapter 2 How and Where to Buy Old Tools 25
Chapter 3 What Not to Buy 38
Chapter 4 Bench Planes 51
Chapter 5 Moulding Planes 85
Chapter 6 Special Purpose Planes 122
Chapter 7 Saws 153
Chapter 8 Boring Tools 173
Bibliography 189
Index 189
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orewor
The most difficult part of writing a book like this is defining

i ts parameters and then resisting the temptation to ramble. The author
knows what pertains, his problem is to decide what must be excluded.
If he is not careful the result is a ponderous tome so crammed with
disjointed information as to render it thoroughly unreadable. The topic
wanders through a labyrinthine discussion with as much continuity
as a trail of bread crumbs in a forest full of birds. However, if he
adheres tenaciously to his outline he risks being upbraided for having
been too meager.
This is the tightrope I walked in preparing this book. The knowl
edgeable reader is seeking only specific information that will fill the
occasional gaps in his otherwise complete understanding of a subject.
If an author attempts to presuppose all possible specifics he inundates
the beginner. The attention of the poor novice is quickly reduced to a
yawn. On the other hand , if he is too general his book is mere pap. My
decisions to include or ignore information concern the reader and it
is only fair that I explain to him how I arrived at those conclusions
and why.
This book was not intended to be the final word about pre
industrial tools. How could it be when I have already admitted that
some things had to be excluded ? Also, I doubt that any man ever knew
all about the subject. When woodworking trades and crafts were still
being practiced in their pre-industrial form, the topic was too vast for a
single human being to h ave even an overview of the entire industry,
never mind the complete knowledge. Rather, I intended to introduce
6
,
Foreword 7
the modern woodworker to a viable alternative and then, possibly even

convince him that this way was preferable. My hypothesis is that using
pre-industrial tools is a more contemplative approach that deeply
involves the practitioner with both his craft and his medium. If that
is so, then this method promises to be very s atisfying. I am a profes
sional woodworker and do use antique tools in pursuit of the very
traditional craft of Windsor chairmaking. I am proof that a craftsman
does not have to rely on machines to make a living in the twentieth
century. Also, my experience shows that antique tools remain practical
and functional.
The tool boxes, once carefully maintained by proud American
woodworkers, have long since been broken up. Their contents have
been destroyed or scattered. What survived has lain about idle for as
long as a century. Consequently, pre-industrial woodworking tools
always require some restoration and regular maintenance. It is not
sufficient to only describe how these tools were used. It is also neces
sary to explain the techniques of rehabilitating and servicing them.
Once the purpose of this book had been determined it was neces
s ary to limit the subject matter. Initially, I had considered discussing
every antique tool that a modern woodworker might conceivably want
to use. However, such an all encompassing approach would require
volumes and I was confined to j ust one. In the text I urge the reader to
restore and use antique tools and in doing so to rely on the information
given. It would not be right for this advice to be unsound. However, I
am a specialized woodworker and do not use every type of tool. As a
result, I cannot write with certainty outside of my own experience.
Consequently, the items that were included satisfy two criteria. I have
restored and use them. And , they are the principal general purpose
tools owned by pre-industrial woodworkers. For this reason , they
remain the most useful to modern craftsmen. I have ignored many
exotic implements which collectors find fascinating and have even
excluded a few of my own favorites. But if I have done so it is because
they fall outside the guidelines just established. The results of this
process of elimination will become apparent as one reads the book.
The knowledge that is missing from our understanding of pre
industrial woodworking is more than a mere gap. It is a trench into
which every writer throws but a shovel full. In order for my con
tribution to count for as much as possible I tried to avoid duplicating
information that was available elsewhere. I also did this for two
reasons. First, laying groundwork would have taken up space which
was already limited. Second, most woodworkers in my acquaintance
are voracious readers and have hungrily consumed every worthwhile
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8 ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS
book. I t was assumed that they are typical. Therefore , I omitted any
information that they have already had access to. In the event that
the reader feels I anticipated too much I beg his indulgence and recom
mend to him the bibliography.
Tools were the implements that built America and nothing could
have been done without them. However, they did not exist as an entity
unto themselves. In order to understand the subject thoroughly one
must place them in history and then examine their role in the society
that used them. Therefore, any explanation must consider three things;
the medium they were used to work, the men who owned them and
the products made by these craftsmen. I tried to do this. However, it
necessitated numerous asides. It is hoped that the reader will feel that
this auxiliary information was warranted and that any material he
would h ave rather read was not s acrificed for the sake of the superfluous.
Very few human endeavors worthy of consideration by other
members of the race occur, without some assistance. The value of this
one is left to the reader's j ud gement. However, I was helped by the

following people and wish to thank them. My wife, Carol, who gave
up many evenings and weekends to type the drafts ; Eric White , who
waited patiently as I continually changed my mind and still took
excellent photographs ; M ary Saucier, Craig Moulton and Larry Mc
M anus for reading the text to ensure it w as intelligible ; H ap Moore
for innumerable lead s ; Buzzy Dodge and Malcolm McGregor, two
excellent j oiners who lent tools and allowed us to photograph them at
work ; Dick Dabrowski and Ron Roszkiewicz of Woodcraft Supply Corp.
and ; Tommy McManus whose help was by no means secondary .
....... se 00 s?
"Why should one use old tools to do modern woodworking?". The

reader h ad probably asked that question even before opening the
cover of this book. But since there are no reasons why one should use
tnem i t is perhaps better to ask the question in this way. "Why would
a craftsman want to work with old tools?" The difference might not
seem important, but it is, even though it only amounts to one word.
Let me explain. The reason why a modern woodworker would want to
practice his craft with antique tools is a very subjective one. This
means that it is a matter of his personal preference. Old tools will not
necessarily result in a dramatic improvement of one's woodworking
and they are not always even easier to use. However, a modern wood
worker might want to switch to antique tools in order to experience the
enjoyment and challenge they offer. These tools perform equally as well
as do new ones, and often even better. But most of all, a person who is
able to use these more demanding implements is rewarded by a tre
mendous sense of satisfaction.
This satisfaction is not going to be enough reason for a framing
carpenter to empty out his carry box and start combing antique shops
for the old tools necessary to reoutfit it. Production shops are not
going to retool upon suddenly discovering that their employees are
more satisfied. However, the non-professional works wood for a very
different reason than does a man whose tools put food on his table and
keep the clothes on his back. The non-professional, whether he is just
a d abbler or whether he is highly skilled works wood because of the
satisfaction he obtains from it. For this reason he wants to find the
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method which will s atisfy him the most. Professionals should not feel
discriminated against by this statement because most do derive a great
deal of satisfaction from their work. However, what they experience
personally is simply not their primary motivation. I earn my living by
making chairs. The people who were photographed for the illustrations
found in this book are all professionals and make a living by working
wood. Each of us agrees that if our work did not give us an intense
s atisfaction no amount of money could compensate for the loss. In a
very short while we would be examining the want ads for a job that
was more fulfilling.
However, whether the woodworker is a professional or not, antique
woodworking tools are more satisfying to use because they present him
with a challenge. Modern tool manufacturers share their point of view
with companies who make electronic organs : the type that a neophyte
musician c an learn to play in less than an hour. Just as the organ
m aker has democratized music the tool maker tries to make wood
working e asy and consequently place it within the capabilities of more
and more people. In other words, someone working with these tools must
be able to obtain satisfactory results with only a minimum of
experience. This statement applies primarily to power tools, but it is an
attitude which makers extend to their modern hand tools as well. The
argument they present for the use of such tools is that they are both
labor and time saving devices. But time and labor are not the only
things a woodworker who relies on machines needs less of. Power tools
are also talent s aving devices. While demanding both less time and
effort woodworking m achines also require less skill to operate. No one
will deny that powered tools are necessary in a shop whose concentra
tion is on production. However, if one works wood for enjoyment's
sake these machines cheat him.
This is an example. Pre-industrial cabinetmakers usually preferred
wide boards for table tops and sides of their case pieces. Still, they
occasionally needed to j oin two boards together with a glued butt
j oint. In order to true the edges of both boards the craftsman relied on
a long wooden-bodied plane called a j ointer. The sole of this plane,
usually twenty-six or more inches long, removed all irregularities and
produced an edge which was a perfect right angle with the surface of
the board. With such an edge on both pieces of wood it was easy to
j oin them with an imperceptible j oint. Of course, skill is necessary to
use such a plane, but practice is even more important. In those days
a young l ad who aspired to be a cabinetmaker served a lengthy
apprenticeship which usually lasted seven years. During this time he
received ample opportunity to practice making butt joints. However,

Why Use Old Tools? 11
we live in a century when furniture is no longer expected to last a life

time and the average family replaces kitchen and living room sets
regularly. For this reason the woodworking industry is very attentive to
its costs. This industry has no time to waste training young workmen
to use hand planes properly. Also, in our enlightened age we frown on
indentures which bind the leaders of tomorrow with apparent servitude.
Instead of making joints with a hand plane the modern worker uses
a rather formidable power tool called, coincidentally, a j ointer. This
machine quickly produces an edge which is satisfactory for the j oining
of two boards and ideally suits the needs of an industry which is intent
on production. Another advantage of this tool is that a workman can
be taught to use it just as quickly. Assuming he can find the OFF-ON
switch he can with ease produce the same results as will a more skilled
craftsman using a hand plane.
Most of the processes employed by the twentieth century wood
working industry have been developed in an effort to eliminate those
three costly factors; time, labor and talent. Even an apparently simple
task such as making a table top by hand from rough sawn lumber
demands many fundamental woodworking skills. The craftsman must
be able to j oin two boards with a jointer, rough smooth them with a
j ack-plane , smooth the surface with a block plane and ( if he is using
hard wood ) finish it with a scraper. The ability to properly use these
tools also implies that the craftsman is equally c apable of maintaining
them. This means that he knows how to produce a razor edge on a
plane blade and a sharp burr on a scraper. The craftsman has to know
enough about wood to be able to select a workable piece. He will not,
for example , try to plane against a rising grain , nor will he j oin his
boards with their grains running in opposite directions. However,
today, satisfactory table tops can be produced more quickly by a work
man who has access to only several basic woodworking machines. Of
course he does not need to know how to maintain these power tools
and since they are oblivious to such nuisances as an uncooperative
grain the woodworker needs to have only an elementary acquaintance
with wood characteristics. It is more important that he know enough
to keep his fingers out of the way of spinning blades. A jointer, thick
ness planer and a belt sander are all the production shop needs to turn
out an unlimited succession of acceptable table tops while still avoiding
that costly trio: time , labor and skill.
Of course professionals will argue , and rightly so , that they need
these machines to keep down their costs in a market place where
money is very much an object. If a woodworker has built his clientele
and reputation around his ability to produce quickly and inexpensively
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it would be economic suicide for him to try to convert to hand tools,

and antique ones at that. The craftsmen who were photographed to
illustrate this book are known for the fact that they are specialists in
restoration carpentry and they do their work by hand with antique
tools. Conversely , their market would not tolerate power tools when
they advertise that they do not use them. The non-professional does not
have to concern himself with a market and its very fickle demands. He
works wood simply for his own enjoyment and the method he chooses
need satisfy no more than his own personal requirements.
However, the non-professional often starts out on the wrong foot
and finds that he has worked himself into a corner. His woodworking
begins to deny him the satisfaction he seeks. Since my shop is in a
museum and is open to the public I talk with several hundred wood
workers a year. They often have the same complaint. When beginning,
they thought that they simply could not do without a shop full of
powered tools. They outfitted their basements and garages with table
s aws, j ointers , thickness planers, shapers and sanders. Since it is very
easy to learn how to use these machines they could in a very short time ,
produce satisfactory results. The situations they find themselves in are
usually similar because the more a woodworker uses a machine the
more routine it becomes. In only a while he is able to produce a string
of small pieces of furniture. These items were very satisfying to make
when he was j ust starting, but the skills he developed by using his
machines were too watered down and they are no longer satisfying. He
finds himself in the same position as the fellow in the cigarette com
mercial who is smoking more but enjoying it less. He tries to recapture
the old satisfaction by tackling larger and larger pieces. He graduates
from end tables to highboys but while still using the same techniques
all he is really doing is in creasing the grandeur of the project. He
mistakes quantity for quality. This becomes expensive in terms of
materials and he quickly runs out of space in both his workshop arid
his house.
The satisfaction of his early achievements did not disappear for
no reason at all. Woodworking became less satisfying simply because it
became too easy. The challenge was gone. With all those machines the
woodworker needs nothing more than a book of measured drawings
and no project is too big to handle. However, he could have derived
more satisfaction if he had built a simple candle stand with antiquue
woodworking tools rather than a highboy with machines.
More and more woodworkers are realizing why the enjoyment has
gone out of their work and are switching to hand tools. Curiously, this
is one of the observations they all make. They never realized how noisy

their powered tools were and are surprised how much more contempla
tive their pastime has become. They spent so much time keeping their
fingers away from spinning blades that they were not able to enjoy
their work. Safety is a definite advantage of hand tools. One m ay
suffer small cuts from being careless with sharp blades but I have
never of anyone losing a finger on a block plane. However, several of
my friends who use power tools cannot count as high on their fingers
as I can. The gentle swish-swish of a hand plane will not cause a
craftsman to suffer from noise poisoning, nor can he throw his back
out by lifting it. I am reminded of the fellow who once wrote to me
inquiring about employment. He had been put out of work when his
employer suffered a double hernia while loading his table saw, j ointer
and thickness planer onto his pick-up truck. Of course, the threat of an
amputation or even a hernia will not usually be enough to convince a
woodworker that he should switch from power to hand tools. Usually
the lack of satisfaction is why one's machines end up in a corner cov
ered with dust.
The transition from power to hand tools is an important one in
the development of a woodworker's skills. It is a maj or shift in attitude
which immediately separates him from most of the herd. Remember,
one who uses hand tools can easily switch to power, but the opposite is
not necessarily true. Those who have learned to work wood with
machines are often lost without them. H and tools make the wood
worker a craftsman. Those who are only able to work with power tools
are really j ust workmen and machine operators. A craftsman is one
who has the ability to use hand tools and who takes the time to add to
his work the finishing touches that machines are incapable of doing.
In the last couple of years taking up a handicraft has become the
thing to do. People sometimes find that relaxation and satisfaction are
a result of working with their hands. However, as is true of anything
that has become a fad, one has to wonder how much of it is really
sincere. It is the current popularity of crafts that make i t very difficult
to define a craftsman. The popular concept is the basest definition of
all. It would extend the once proud title of "craftsman" to anyone. The
person who cuts the bowls off silver spoons and bends the handles
into rings is no more a jeweler than the person who can pick out a
tune on an electric organ is a musician. Someone who glues greeting
cards lo a tin can cannot claim to be an heir to the once important craft
of making lacquered ware. And , just because someone owns a j ointer,
table s aw and belt sander, he is not necessarily a cabinetmaker. This
does not mean that the use of machines reveals a professional wood
worker to be a charlatan , but as is too often true of any craft, the
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ability to quickly produce sometimes disguises limited t alent. I t would

be an effort in futility today to try to define the word "craftsman "
but I simply c annot swallow the thought of extending the recog
nition to everyone who makes a product. The word is a title, a
proud distinction reserved only for those who are highly skilled.
A similar debasemen t has occurred with the word "master crafts
man , a term that once acknowledged those whose abilities were
outstanding even among their peers. Today, the word master is at
tached with ease and there are currently more master cabinetmakers
and master c arvers than ever existed back when the word had
meaning. Both terms, craftsman and master, are so abused that many
t alented woodworkers worthy of being called by either one , or both,
avoid them. They are afraid that they will be judged guilty by their
association with those who are less demanding of the definition.
Here, the word craftsman is limited to its archaic meaning and
when we say that a woodworker becomes more of a craftsman when
he learns to use hand tools it is because he becomes more skilled.
Being more capable than his contemporaries is only one indication of
a craftsman. Devotion to his craft and pride in his work are others. A
craftsman's product can usually be recognized by his concern for de
tails which add nothing to the function of the piece but rather, serve
only to enhance it aesthetically. An example of such a detail might be
a bit of c arving, inlay on a piece of furniture or even something as
unnoticed as a chamfer to relieve a sharp edge. Some details may not
even be discern able. The viewer simply knows that something elevates
the piece made by a craftsman above another made by a workman.
This is the mark of the craftsman. Since such elaboration always re
quires h and work it will be ignored by the woodworker who is not
equally concerned with the success of his product or whose dependancy
on machinery renders him unable to do it. These details will never
appear if the workman 's only concern is production , because handwork
requires too much time. Shaker furniture , for example, probably re
ceives more attention from the woodworking industry than does any
other style. I t is l auded for its elegant simplicity and its timeless ness. I
wonder how much of this praise is actually the red herring of rhetoric
intende d to draw attentio n away from the real reason furniture makers
like Shaker styles. These pieces usually have either straigh t lines or
very simple ones which lend thems elves to produ ction with table saws
and other woodw orking machinery. In a produc tion shop Shaker repro
ductio ns can be crank ed out at a rate which would be impossible with
more elabor ate furnit ure. While praisi ng Shake r crafts men for the
integrity of workm anshi p and design such shops miss the irony of their

j
situation. They emulate men whose craftsmanship they claim to

admire, while trying their very best to eliminate all craftsmanship from
their production.
In a pre-industrial cabinetmaking shop a furniture masterpiece
was not necessarily made by the master. B ack when the distinction
between master, j ourneyman and apprentice had meaning menial l abor
in any shop was done by the apprentices. The bulk of the work was the
domain of the j ourneyman. While their role demanded only general
skills it was these workmen who actually made the furniture. The
master had time to do only the most demanding work, that which was
beyond the training and ability of his employees. For example , the
type of chair m ade by the firm of Duncan Phyfe with p aw feet and a
carved lyre in the back is readily recognized as a masterpiece of
American furniture. But it is quite conceivable , and even probable ,
that the chair actually was made by one of Phyfe's j ourneymen while
Phyfe himself was only responsible for the finishing touches. However,
it is j ust these touches, these intricate details wrought by the master
with his c arving chisels, that elevate the chair from what would other
wise be only a good example, to that of a masterpiece . Once again, that
which is most worthy in woodworking is that which is done by h and.
No machines will ever be able to duplicate these skills. Machines have
always had limitations. These limitations mean that power tools are
only useful to the woodworker who relies on them to save labor
while roughing out work. A twentieth century m aster cabinetmaker
may use power tools to perform the menial labor once done by ap
prentices, but relies on his hand tools to produce the details that make
his work distinctive. Anyone who depends on machines to produce
finished work becomes a slave to them and is fettered by their limita
tions. Since machines only conserve the labor that was once performed
by apprentices the woodworker who is bound by them is only working
at that elemental level.
A craftsman who uses h and tools may not yet deserve to be
called a master, but they do make him a master over his medium. A
sharp edge tool enables him to work his will on the wood in a way that
no machine can . A table saw will continue to cut as long as its switch
is in the ON position. It moves through the wood regardless of whether
it is cutting beyond where it was supposed to or through something
that was not intended, such as a finger. In the hands of craftsman a
hand s aw will cut only where he wills it. His skill and ability prevent
it from going anywhere else. If a hand tool fails to perform, it is be
cause the man using it does not know how to make it do otherwise.
A hand tool is an extension of the craftsman's mind. It realizes for
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him images conceived in his brain and the results are the actualizat ion
of his genius. The genius of a power tool belongs to the enginee r who
designed it and the machinist who produced the prototype , not to the
workman who uses it.
By now the woodwor ker may be willing to admit the benefits of
hand tools. He now understan ds why the discipline of learning to use
them correctly and to their best advantage is a major step in the de
velopment of craftsman ship. Still, a legitimate question may be ,
"Why use old one s ? ". Anyone who has ever poked around in an antique
shop and h as seen old planes can immediately tell that a blade held
in place by a wooden wedge would be a devil to adjust. And if some
one really want to torment himself by using such difficult and in
efficient tools, why not simply buy the new ones ? Most woodworkers
are aware that modern copies of old tools are widely advertised in tool
c atalogs.
This is the answer. In spite of appearances antique woodworking
tools are not inefficient. Sometimes the truth is j ust the opposite. In
many cases they are even more efficient than similar examples being
produced today. The finest furniture the world has ever known was
made by American cabinetmakers during the eighteenth and e arly
nineteenth centuries. Only a matter of personal taste would allow one
to refute this statement. An art critic may think that eighteenth cen
tury European furniture is more worthy of the distinction , but he
could never s ay that American workmanship was not at least equal
to the best that Mankind has ever produced. Quality in workmanship
is a fact and is not subject to the whims of taste. This period was the
apex of M an's woodworking development and at this time master
c abinetmakers of unparalleled ability were using the very same tools
that are recommended by this book. The eighteenth century ( and by
extension of the same technology the early nineteenth century ) has
been called the "Age of Cabinetmakers" so often that the phrase is in
d anger of becoming a cliche. Still, it is true. During the eighteenth
century the Western world poised itself in preparation for its leap into
the Iron Age and the Industrial Revolutio n. The skills developed by
woodwork ers in both Europe and America were the result of milennia
of tradition dating back to the Romans. The abilities these men pos
sessed were the sum of the experience of tens of generatio ns of wood
worker s. These are the reasons why the best cabinet makers of this
period were the greates t woodworkers who have ever inhabit ed the
e arth.
One need not be a studen t of antiqu e furniture to start a long list
of the n ames of these worthie s. It would contain Chippendale, Hepple -

17

Why Use Old Tools?
white, Sheraton, the brothers Adam, the Goddards, the Townsends,

the Seymores, Phyfe and McIntire. No matter how complete we tried
to be we would cheat dozens of masters by excluding them. Each of
these men worked a lifetime. Each regularly produced furniture that
was so beautifully conceived and so finely executed that examples of
it are always displayed in museums alongside the modes of ex
pression more often called Art. The ability of these men holds up even
under the demand of the twentieth century for m achined perfection.
They still successfully challenge our mechanized society to create a
single product in wood which rivals what they once regularly pro
duced by hand as quickly and as often as the m aster could complete
e ach piece. Such men m ade furniture which remains unrivaled , by
using tools that a modern craftsman avoids for fear that they might
be inefficient. What irony ! Men who were as accomplished in their
medium as were cabinetmakers of the eighteenth and nineteenth cen
turies would never h ave tolerated tools which did not meet the de
mands they made on them.
Early Americans are m aligned by the distorted, but popular
image, of a pioneer dressed in buckskins, living in a log c abin and
shooting five Indians each d ay before dinner. Nothing could be further
from the truth. The society which resulted from the English coloniza
tion of North America was extremely sophisticated and very conscious
of good taste. Competition among the members of the very erudite and
cosmopolitan upper class meant that nothing would be accepted from
indigenous craftsmen that did not equal what could be imported from
Europe. We may like to imagine our ancestors as h aving been quaint
but they had no such ambitions. Those who patronized master c abinet
makers accepted nothing but the finest workmanship. The craftsmen
who m ade these products for such a demanding clientele would not
have been able to produce such quality if they had not used tools that
were equal to the job.
The men who made the woodworking tools of the pre-industrial
period supplied a very sophisticated market. The woodworkers who
used these tools recognized the best and accepted nothing less. Their
insistance insured that tools were efficient and furnished the u ser with
a maximum of performance. The ability of these craftsmen to recog
nize good tools and their demand for them resulted in a competitive
marketplace which made tool makers very jealous of their quality and
reputations. But there is a reason other than competition that explains
the efficiency of antique woodworking tools. Just as woodworkers were
the heirs to an unbroken tradition of craftsmanship predating modern
European civilization, tool makers shared an equal and often intersect-
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ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS
ing heritage. The tools made by European tool makers remained

b asically unchanged for two thousand years. The planes used by the
Roman carpenters who accompanied conquering legions into Western
Europe are easily recognizable to us today. Their chisels and saws did
not differ from ours and a modern observer is surprised at their simi
larity and sophistication. As tools and tool design evolved during the

centuries few changes in the basic implements occured. An unavoid
able result of the use of the same tools by sophisticated craftsmen for
more than two thousand years is refinement to maximum efficiency.
This is where tool manufacturers stood on the eve of the Indus
trial Revolution. They were the direct descendants of two thousand
years of experimentation with the same forms. For centuries tool
m akers had been learning to make handsome , efficient tools that felt
comfortable in the h ands of the craftsmen who used them. And more
importantly, these tool makers were woodworkers themselves. They
used saws , chisels and planes to make their products. Tool makers
were members of the immense woodworking industry. Like the men
they supplied they also understood the need for efficient tools and
were as capable of recognizing them as they were of producing them.
By the eighteenth century many tool firms had consolidated their
operations, had brought these highly skilled craftsmen under one roof
and employed near modern mass production techniques. The tool en
terprises that gathered in such towns as Sheffield, England, were them
selves as sophisticated in their means of production as were the wood
workers they were supplying.
The Industrial Revolution evidenced itself early in the woodwork
ing industry. If Rip Van Winkle had been a woodworker and had
fallen asleep in 1 830, upon awakening in 1 850 he might have had
trouble recognizing the industry of which he had once been part.
Twenty years is a short space of time for such a radical change to
take place. However, the machines which were j ust making their
debut when Rip lay down beneath the tree, were in common use by the
time he woke up. The steam en gine had been perfected and was
running machinery everywhere. Some hand tools were still needed for
some operations and tool makers did continue to supply them. But
this w as the Iron Age. Once, iron had been very expensive and could
only be used to make the blades and cutters of tools. Now that it could
be cheaply extracted and refined, entire tools were being made of it.
Tool manufacturers were producing for the new woodworking indus
try, not the old. The master craftsmen who made wooden tools were
suddenly as out of date as were the c abinetmakers who used them.

They were the last of their species and when they died uncounted
generations of tradition and knowledge were lost.
The new tools were mass produced on the very assembly lines
which had become the heart of the factory method . Each implement
was literally stamped from the same mold, and each was so identical
that a workman could not tell them apart. Today , there is no difference
in the feel of two planes made by the same manufacturer. No in
dividuality exists to inform the craftsman that he can work better
with one plane than another. No matter which iron plane is chosen
it works and acts just like the one beside it. This was not so in the
days when tool makers made wooden parts by hand . Their work ex
hibited the usual variations that are typical of hand crafting. A pre
industrial woodworker learned to work with his own tools. His skills
developed in conj unction with a comfortable familiarity he felt for
only these. He could undoubtedly work with someone else's, but found
that his efficiency and working rhythm could only be maintained at
their peak when his own tools were in his hands.
For this s ame reason the modern woodworker who uses old tools de
velops the same comfortable dependency. His woodworking techniques
and skills become highly individual. But, this familiarity with one's
tools is the result of more than j ust using them. When one finds an
old tool, such as a plane, it clearly evidences the years of abuse it h as
endured. Wooden tools were despised when they were replaced by the
new metal ones. After all , the only people who could use them were
old time woodworkers and they were dying off. As their estates came
up for sale their tools were sold . Garland Patch, the well known col
lector, whose tools now make up the Patch Tool Collection at Straw
bery Banke, used to tell of the auctions he had attended. Barrels of
wooden planes had been sold for pennies as fire wood and their irons
sold as scrap. What lovely fires they must have made and how well
they must have burned ! Each was impregnated with the oil of the
owner's hands worked in by countless usings. Each was made of a slow
and even burning hardwood , j ust stove size , which had been carefully
selected by the tool maker. But even when old tools were not wantonly
destroyed they were often stored in damp cellars or dry attics. Often,
the craftsman's less skilled descendants used them for purposes that
were unintended by their makers. Consequently, many antique tools
that are found today are beyond restoration and are best suited for
display on a mantel. This is a fitting repose for them. Because they
were designed and made by skilled craftsmen they remain objects of
beauty to the discerning eye. In spite of the number that were de-
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stroyed many antique tools did survive. They preserve for the modern
craftsman who wishes to collect and use them the continuity of tool
design which could only result from two thousand years of toolmaking.
Such a tool can be made functional once more and it is worth the
woodworker's while to take advantage of the performance and s atis
faction it can give him.
An antique tool such as a plane requires several hours of rework
ing in order to restore its old efficiency. For example , the mouth may
have been worn until it is too wide to remove a paper thin shaving.
To correct this a patch may have to be carefully placed in the sole.
The wedge m ay be missing and a new one is needed. Properly fitting
the wedge not only gives the woodworker a feeling for the plane but
it helps him appreciate the skill of the plane maker. Such planes al
w ays need to be rubbed down with linseed oil to return life to the dried
out wood. The handling, examining and reworking needed to restore
a plane makes the user more familiar with it than he could ever be
come with a modern one which is in working condition as taken from
the hardware store shelf. The tool becomes as familiar and as com
fortable as an old friend. Before he begins to use it the woodworker has
already tested it and knows its heft. Its feeling is good in his hands and
he knows j ust how and where to hold it for m aximum comfort. By the
time the first shaving exits from the plane's throat the tool and the
craftsman are sharing a oneness, a singularity of purpose that makes
the tool an extension of himself.
This is an experience the craftsman will never have with a new
tool. It may sound mystical, or at best overly romantic. But much of
the s atisfaction that one derives from working wood is a result of the
deep feeling he has for the material. Eric Sloane named it a reverence
for wood , but no matter what it is called any woodworker who does not
feel an intense appreciation and respect for this medium will be hard
pressed to become an accomplished craftsman. Wood is a wonderful
material. As long as M an has been working it he has realized that all
his efforts only serve to enhance its natural beauty. No observer is
more fortunate than the craftsman for wood is most beautiful when
it is freshly worked. The color and depth of a newly planed or chiseled
surface will often make me stop to linger over it. Wood is like a fish
which has j ust been pulled from the water. The colors of the living
creature are fresh and brilliant. But as it slowly dies the colors change
and become dull. Wood begins to quickly oxidize after it has been
worked. Exposure to air causes these lively irridescent colors to quickly
dull and fade. No varnish, oil or shellac can ever return them to that
momentary brilliance so pristine and so clear that one feels he can actu-

I
21

Why Use Old Tools?
ally see deep into the wood itself. It is a spectacle reserved for only the
craftsman who uses razor sharp hand tools. Those who u se wooden
tools even swear that the soles of their planes burnish the new surface,
actually making the colors more astounding. But whether this is tru e
or not, he who depends on powered tools never sees it. Machines
abrade the wood's surface instead of cutting it. Even sandpaper leaves
nothing but microscopic scuff marks which diffuse the radiance of
freshly worked wood.
The c ase for using old tools is not yet closed . In the same way
that the challenge of woodworking is diminished by powered tools,
manufacturers seek to make even their hand tools as e asy to work
with as possible. Old tools not only require more skill to use than do
their modern counterparts, they require a knowledge of how to m ain
tain and adjust them. It is much e asier to set the blade of a modern
plane than an antique one. The adj ustment knob of a metal plane is
usually behind the handle. The iron is raised or lowered by simply
turning this knob. An iron held by a wooden wedge is more difficult to
to set in the desired position , at least until the craftsman has learned
how. The only place the average person will ever see a craftsman
setting a blade in a wooden plane is an e arly American museum such
as Sturbridge Village or Colonial Williamsburg. Adjustment is made
by lightly tapping either the back of the plane or the top of the blade.
In this manner someone who is familiar with his tools c an set the iron
as quickly and as exactly as c an a workman with a modern plane. It is
a pleasure to watch someone who knows a tool so well that by tapping
it with j ust the right force he can raise or lower the blade at will. It is
a skill possessed by very few and it is one more ability that working
with old tools imparts to the modern craftsman. There is a great deal
of satisfaction in being one of only a handful who can perform such a
difficult task but still do it well and with ease.
The same skills can be learned j ust as quickly with the new
wooden bodied planes that are now popular on the tool market . But
as much as these tools try to duplicate the old ones there is still a lot
missing. Old tools were the result of two thousand years of inherited
skills. Changes only came about as tried and accepted improvements.
When the last old tool makers died both their skills and this milleni a long
tradition terminated with them. I t is not reasonable to assume that in
one generation, or even several, the information which was once
passed to apprentices by word of mouth, and more often, by simply
observing the hands of the master, c an be reassembled. There were
nuances known by these craftsmen that mere copying can not dupli
cate. A good example might be for the modern craftsman to simply
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hold an old s aw. The h andle is shaped and molded so not a single
uncomfortable edge or excess amount of wood is left. This contrasts
sharply with modern tool handles made by people who h ave forgotten
the old forms and designed by people who are not woodworkers them
selves. Such a nuance of design might be nothing more than a
chamfer to relieve the outline of a plane body, making the tool more
comfortable to hold and making it visu ally less "blocky". Or, the
superiority of an old tool might be something as noticeable as a sweep
ing handle of dynamic reverse curves which make it fully as elegant as
the pierced scroll work on a piece of formal Chippendale furniture.
But, besides being wonderful to look at the tool is, most of all , com
fortable to hold. The tool maker and the woodworker he supplied ex
perienced a pride of workmanship and a pride of ownership. Remem
ber, the tool maker was a woodworker himself and he was well aware
of this. The tool maker was proud that his designs were aesthetically
pleasing and functional. The woodworker was proud to own such a
handsome and efficient tool. For the same reason a modern wood
worker can be pleased to display such carefully conceived and beauti
fully executed designs in his own tool box. While its true that the
difference between some antique tools and their modern counterparts
is simply a matter of form or comfort in the craftsman's hands, there
is not much difference in performance. The modern woodworker, who
himself produces beautiful objects , will usually choose to surround
himself with and work with tools that are conceived with as muh
concern and consideration as are his own products. Consider this
statement with the photograph of the saw handles in mind. On the
other hand , there are modern hand tools made as copies of old ones
that are not anywhere near as serviceable. Once again , this is the re
sult of the hiatus that occurred during the Iron Age and the Industrial
Revolution when the continuity of the tool making tradition was
broken. A good example of such a modern tool which consistantly fails
to duplicate the efficiency of its antique prototypes is one that I work
w.ith every day. The scorp or the scorper as it was once known, was
used in the pre-industrial period by chairmakers to hollow their seats
and by coopers and bowlmakers to shave concave surfaces. There are
a number of markets which offer scorps to modern woodworkers. But
if the failure of modern manufacturers to make an acceptable copy is
not obvious by simply hefting the tool, an attempt to work with one
quickly makes this apparent. Of all the modern scorps that I have seen
there was not one that worked satisfactorily. However, the eighteenth
century scorp I do use not only feels as if it had been made for my

hands but with it I can produce a shaving so fine it might have been
made by a plane.
Besides giving the modern woodworker extremely efficient per
formance antique hand tools also give him a feeling for his roots.
Tradition is not much in the way of a tangible advantage, but it is
something that a woodworker can never understate. With the possible
exception of chipping flint knives his craft is the oldest known to M an.
Many historians accept the eighteenth century as h aving been Europe's
finest hour. But besides being the Age of Reason, the Age of States
men, the Age of Enlightenment it was also the Age of C abinetmakers.
If woodworking was not the finest and most sophisticated form of ex
pression of this period it was the most wide spread. The most power
ful nations produced the best and most capable woodworkers. Thus,
the greatness of woodworking lies in its past. The eighteenth century
produced dozens of great names that quickly come to mind . The nine
teenth century developed fewer famous furniture makers and wood
workers. The twentieth century has failed to offer more than a handful
who could even walk tall among the giants of the past.
A feeling for tradition in woodworking is very important to the
modern craftsman who would also be a designer. The commercial
furniture which is sold as Early American or Colonial is a good ex
ample of what can occur when one does not properly understand
tradition. Just as the Greeks maintained orders in their architecture
and did not use incompatible motifs, furniture m akers in the pre
industrial period were consistant in their designs. A designer who does
not recognize these consistencies will make ludicrous errors. Designers
have been known to put Queen Anne legs on a Sheraton chest and
advertise the whole mess as Colonial. Some of their laughable creations
look as if they put all possible designs into a bag and shook them up
until assembled freaks fell out. These pieces look like Picasso paint
ings from his Cubist period. Placing rope turned columns over cabriole
legs is like putting a foot where a person's nose should be.
Designers who want to be bold and innovative can also learn from
tradition. Great designers have always been scarce and they were al
ways themselves accomplished craftsmen. Chippendale was one of
London's foremost furniture manufacturers. Duncan Phyfe was the
most capable cabinetmaker in Federal New York. It is just not reason
able to think that one who does not understand a medium can success
fully design in it. It is first necessary to develop the essential
woodworking skills before a furniture maker can become a craftsman
designer. There is probably no discipline that will make him more pro-
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ficient as a woodworker than will working with hand tools. As Thomas

Edison said , "Genius is 9 9 % perspiration and only 1 % inspiration. "
Working with antique tools might not stimulate great design, but it
will most certainly make one perspire. Most importantly , using old
tools and understanding them makes a woodworker aware of where
he and the craft h ave come from and with such knowledge he may
find it easier to go on from there in the direction he chooses.
Beyond a doubt the greatest s atisfaction a woodworker can re
ceive from using old woodworking tools is the realization that he is
able to obtain an acceptable performance and results from the types of
tools that were once used by the greatest cabinetmakers who ever lived.
He is like the musician who is able to play Beethoven but who could
never write the music. Most non-professionals do not spend enough
time working wood to become even the equal of an ordinary country
c abinetmaker of the pre-industrial period. A professional woodworker
c an not usually take enough time to practice and train with hand
tools to the extent that his skills equal those of an eighteenth century
craftsman. But both can use antique tools and obtain results that are
as good as those given by modern equivalents or machines. In learning
to do so they develop the skills needed to use these more demanding
tools and learn the accompanying ability of caring for and adjusting
them. They also develop the unique relationship that comes from using
such highly individual implements. These handsome, well designed,
tools create a pride of ownership, something they never experienced
with modern examples. Even if a woodworker is never able to duplicate
the abilities of old craftsmen he will be able to share these things in
common with them. Through his old tools he can touch a former great
ness which Man has lost probably never to regain.

ow an ere
to 00 s
Once a woodworker decides to try using old tools he is faced with

the problem of finding some. He will quickly discover that shopping
for these tools is quite a bit differen t from what most of us are used
to. Previously, when he needed a certain tool he most likely bought
it at a hardware store or ordered one through a tool c atalogue. It is not
so quick and easy with old tools. They are antiques and like all other
antiques, time and neglect has scattered them. H unting for them is
similar to what the old prospectors said about gold. It is where you
find it. Because they h ave been unused and unappreciated for genera
tions old tools often surface in some very unexpected places. When
they appear under unlikely circumstances they are usually unrecog
nized and are under priced. For this reason it is well worth the wood
worker's while to familiarize himself with old tools and always keep
his eye open for what others h ave not noticed. Even though
they still regularly pop up in surprising w ays and in surprising
places, during the last decade the bulk of surviving antique tools h ave
entered the m arket. This means that most of the items a woodworker
can expect to purchase are already in antique shops. For this reason
that is the most likely place for him to look. Dealers recognize these
tools and acknowledge them as legitimate antiques. They are aware
that there is a steady demand for them and for this reason most shops
will try to keep at least a small selection on hand at all times.
If the woodworker is not already an antique collector he is prob
ably not familiar with the market place. However, he will nol look
long before he discovers that when it comes to old tools there are
25
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26
three differen t types of antique shops. The first type is operate d by

the j unk dealer. In this shop tools are given no regard at all. When
one of these dealers is asked if he has any for sale he will point to a
number of battered cardboard boxes either piled in a corner or stacked
under a table. Since this man considers old tools to be the dregs of his
stock the contents of these boxes is usually very disappointi ng. Most
contain no more than clogged files, numerous mechanic's wrenches
and worn out screw drivers. However, the law of averages governs here
and if the woodworker has the time and inclination to sift through
many cardboard boxes in many junk shops he occasionally turns up a
good tool. He should not count too heavily on finding something excit
ing such as a molding plane, since these dealers recognize anything
that is worth money. Their problem is that they never know what
price to charge. In order to compensate for their ignorance of current
market values and to insure that they are not denied any possible
profit ' they overprice anything they suspect of being desirable. In the
event such a dealer does stumble onto a wooden plane it is almost
always a common form and has almost always been severely abused.
In such a condition a wooden plane is valueless. However, the j unk
dealer knows when he has found something that is similar to what he
has seen in legitimate antique shops. He assumes that he has a treas
ure on his hands and prices it accordingly. Such dealers never seem
to .ask themselves why their great discoveries do not sell. Apparently
they do not wonder about this because j unk shop always exhibit the
same pattern.
The woodworker who frequents j unk shops in hopes of finding
something valuable will almost always be disappointed. Such things are
quickly recognized and are predictably overpriced. What he can ex
pect to find in these places as bargains are tools that the dealer con
siders worthless. Among the wrenches, files and screwdrivers one can
occasionally find chisels. These are usually minus the handles and
very often some dubber has pcunded the empty socket with a hammer.
The socket walls are peened over irretrieva bly. But if one is lucky, an
undamag ed morticing chisel, a firmer or gouge might be keeping
company with all that scrap metal. Of course these have been tossed
around for so long that they are always dull and rusted . Their bezels
m ay have to be reground , but any woodworker is capable of sharpen
ing his own tools and steel wool will quickly remove the rust.
Saws are anothe r type of tool that is commonly found in junk
shops. Usually the blades have buckle s and kinks in them put there
by carele ss users and careless dealers who regard them as junk. Just
often enoug h to make it worth lookin g a good back or panel saw made

How and Where to Buy Old Tools 27
in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries will be discovered in a stack

of worthless modern ones. All the woodworker needs to make such a
find is the time and stamina required to hunt for antique tools in
places such as this.
A far more rewarding way to search for old tools is to look in
legitimate antique shops that carry a general line of antique mer
chandise. Dealing in antiques is not an e asy way to make a living.
This is so for the same reason why shopping for antique tools is so
much more difficult than it is to buy new ones. In order to renew his
stock it is necessary for an antique dealer to search continuously.
This means that he manages to be invited into numerous attics, cellars
and estates that are normally closed to a woodworker looking for old
tools, even if he knew about them. The dealer who runs an antique
shop will often buy the entire contents of a building and old tools are
included with the deal. But no matter where he finds his stock he
usually makes his living by handling a general line of antiques. He
does this so that his shop will appeal to as many different customers as
possible. Since there is a brisk trade in old tools on the antique market
dealers like to keep at least a small selection on h and so that tool
collectors will frequent their shops. Unlike a j unk dealer, the liveli
hood of the proprietor of a good antique shop depends on his ability
to turn over his merchandise quickly and regularly. This means that
he cannot afford to price a tool unrealistically and then own it for an
eternity. More than likely, he will mark a tool a certain percentage
over his cost and sell it for that.
It is much more agreeable to search in one of these shops. In spite
of what has been written questioning their honesty antique dealers
are enjoyable people. Since they make a living by selling antiques they
are aware that a surly disposition will chase customers away. Con
sequently, they are usually very helpful. Still, the woodworker will
find that shopping for antique tools in these places is not without its
drawbacks. Because these dealers purchase their tools in a piece meal
fashion they seldom have a wide selection. This means that in order
to see a quantity of old tools the woodworker will have to visit many
antique shops. This takes time, and for the professional time is money.
The non-professional may be more willing to simply excuse the hours
he spent searching from shop to shop as being part of his hobby. He
can conSider the time spent looking for antique tools as recreation. It
is even quite possible that the collecting bug will bite him and he may
discover that he gets as much of a kick out of looking for old tools
as he does from using them.
Another difficulty the woodworker will experience by visiting this
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type of shop is caused by the fact "old tools" often mean different
things to different people. Without intending to be deceitful a dealer
who specializes in primitives may claim to have a nice selection of old
tools. Instead of planes, saws and chisels these old tools m ay turn out
to be no more than hay forks, meat cleavers and even ice tongs. The
confusion is the result of the current popularity of this sort of thing.
The fashion is to euphemistically refer to them as accent pieces and
decorator items. They are mistakenly called primitives by the people
who buy them, but in reality a true primitive is something very differ
ent. Displaying these implements has become a way to show friends
how much one "simply adores antiques". When a selection of such
items is offered to a woodworker as old tools it is because the dealer
thought he wanted something to hang on his wall. It is the way to
show off your good taste , Charlie. When someone h as decided that
such a device is a nice primitive the current fad is to cover it with
varnish ! Any old wood is sanded smooth and the pitted rusty iron is
buffed. Then, the whole thing is given several coats of polyurethane.
This craze would be of no interest to the woodworker who is looking
for antique tools except that it does not always limi t itself to ice tongs
and hay forks. Occasionally, some very serviceable tools are caught
up in this madness. When that occurs it is always just the moulding
plane the woodworker needs or a mortice chisel of j ust the right width.
Before a tool which has been treated in this way can be used for its
intended purpose heavy coats of varnish must be removed from both
the wood and the blade. The insult heaped onto the injury is that the
dealer will actually charge the woodworker more money in return for
having prepared the tool for his kitchen wall. I once visited a shop
that specialized in varnished primitives. After having quietly lamented
over some plastic coated woodworking tools that deserved a better fate
I asked the dealer if she did her own refinishing. "Oh yes", was the
reply. "You j ust can't rely on anyone else to do it right. "
The third type of antique shop is what the woodworker who is
making the transition from new tools to old will enjoy most. This
dealer specializes in antique tools. His shop may contain some general
line antiques meant to attract other customer s but the specialty of the
house is old tools. If the dealer expects to be successfu l and develop a
good reputat ion he knows that he must keep his shop continu ously
stocked with the widest possible selection . In just one such shop a
woodworker will see as many tools as could be found in dozens of
general line antique enterprises. The dealer may make his living by
selling antique tools, but very often he either collects or even uses
them himsel f. Also, he is usually a member of the several organiza
tions that have been formed to promote the study of antique tools. This
,
-
The dealer who specializes in antique tools must m aintain a well stocked
shop. In such a place the woodworker has a good chance of finding
what he needs with a minimum amount of searching.
Courtesy Hilton's Antiques, North Berwick, Maine.
means that he is very knowledgeable and that the inquiring wood

worker will not be offered varnished primitives. Instead, the dealer
will be as helpful as possible in finding the tools the woodworker needs,
since he stands to gain a regular customer.
But there is a drawback to even this type of shop. There are
seldom any bargains to be found. Because his livelihood is dependant
On old tools the dealer is very much aware of the current market value
of his stock and will mark it accordingly. He is visited by a steady
stream of tool collectors who are always willing to pay the going price
for a good example. Tool collectors are as serious about their hobby
as are coin, stamp and antique collectors. The eagerness with which
they seek new additions for their collections and their willingness to
pay fair prices for good tools sustains a brisk trade and a steady
market. While it is always desirable to find a bargain, the professional,
or even the non-professional with limited time, appreciates the advan
tage of avoiding a long search for an urgently needed tool. If one
knows of a shop which maintains a large selection of stock he can
usually find just the right item and be back to work with it in several
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30
hours. Professional woodworkers realize that the time they save is well
worth the extra expense. The advantages of doing business with a shop
that specializes in antique tools far outweigh that single drawback.
Since most of his customers are collectors this type of dealer is
usually happy to meet someone who actually uses his tools. He will be
very curious about the woodworker's chosen craft and will have plenty
of questions to ask. He will want to know, for example, which tools are
preferred ; which of the old tool companies produced the most efficient
products and which tools gave the best performance. The dealer is
deeply involved with antique tools. Unless he himself is a woodworker
his customers h ave had experiences that he has not and they are his
only access to information which is not available elsewhere. It is well
worth the woodworker's while to take the time to know such a dealer.
If one becomes a preferred customer or if the dealer is interested in his
work he may give discounts. But more importantly he is perhaps the
best possible source for hard to find tools. Each month he comes in
contact with hundreds of them. He is a potential storehouse of pro
ductive leads.
Two other sources for old tools remain to be discussed. They are
those institutions which have become such a common part of the
American landscape ; the flea market and the yard sale. Hunting for
antique tools at flea market is annoying because the dealers who rent
spaces here are on a par with the fellow who runs the j unk shop.
Flea marketeers iIJ.variably know just enough about antiques to recog
nize them, but somehow they always think that run of the mine is
gold. If one of these dealers does man age to purchase a good tool he
will price it so outrageously that the woodworker cannot afford to buy
it. One will not find wooden planes or other easily recognized antique
tools at flea markets, but as occasionally occurs in junk shops simple
items, such as chisels, can be located at bargain prices. The advantage
of a flea m arket is this : The equivalent of m any j unk stores are all
brought together in one place. Driving to one flea market is much
e asier than combing the countryside for individual shops.
The old fashioned yard sale is quickly disappearing before an in
vasion of people who have made this discovery. They can avoid the
rental fee of a booth at a flea market by setting up a shop in their
garage. These people comb j unk shops , flea markets and even each
other's yard sales in search of the predictable cast offs that make up
their merchandise. If a woodworker who is looking for old tools should
stumble onto one of these set ups he is assured of not finding any
good buys. The permanent yard sales are run by people who are a cross
between the j unk dealers and the flea marketeers. If something they own

How and Where to B uy Old Tools 31

remotely resembles anything they have seen in antique shops they

expect i t to m ake them rich. Because their operation is usually only a
weekend thing these people never h ave even a selection of rusty files
and screw drivers to sort through. Woodworkers are better off to avoid
this situation and spend their time looking for old tools at honest-to
goodness yard sales.
A legitimate yard sale is held after a relative has died and the
heirs wish to sell the remnants of the estate ; when a family is moving
and does not want to transport its accumulation ; or when a group of
neighbors has decided to clean out their garages and attics. A wood
worker who is looking for old tools can easily distinguish between a
genuine yard sale and the permanent set up by scanning the range of
merchandise. The side yard flea marketeer never has any of the honest
accumulation that is the inevitable result of living in one place for
many years. A table heaped with old clothes, a dog dish , snow tires
and maybe an old kitchen range indicate to me a true yard sale. The
possibility exists that if I ask to see Grandpa's tool box I might find
something I w ant to use at the price I want to pay. However, if I
spot a c ard table covered with nondescript china, surrounded by a few
pressed oak chairs and a number of mediocre crocks I immediately
return to my car. A woodworker who drives from yard sale to yard sale
looking for old tools will most often be disappointed . Antique tools
are simply not so common that some are contained in every attic.
However, from time to time something unrecognized will surface and
will be sold for a fraction of its value.
The woodworker has probably determined, and correctly so, that
there is no sure-fire place to look for antique tools, and moreso, that
by their very n ature there is n o guarantee that they will necessarily
be found anywhere. The only statement that could be accurately made
is this : Antique tools are where you find them. The woodworker who
has trained his eye will stumble across them in the most unexpected
places. If he is on the spot with a few dollars in his pocket he will
make the purchases that others only hear about when friends gather
to talk shop. Usually one's success at finding and purchasing antique
tools will be determined by the time-money relationship. This is one
of the fundamental laws governing the antique market. In order to be
successful a collector needs either a lot of time or a lot of money. In
other words, the woodworker who wants to pay little for his antique
tools will have to spend a lot of time looking. The prices paid by the
man who has little time always include the dealer's profit. Bargains
will only be consistently discovered as a result of the persistent in
vestigation of every possible source . If the woodworker equates his
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32
time with money, as professionals need to do, it is advisable for him

to frequent shops that specialize in antique tools. However, the wood
workers whose photographs are used as the illustrations for this book

are professionals and incurable ferrets when it comes to finding

antique tools. One of them likes to tell this story : He w as recentl y in
vited into a cellar owned by a man who had gathered antique tools
for more than forty years. This man did not collect them, he j ust
gathere d. His fascina tion with old tools had resulted in an accumu la
tion that required rows of shelves to display. He owned hundreds of
wooden planes of every description. My friend was able to purchase
complete sets of moulding planes in perfect condition at prices that
averaged only several dollars apiece.
I remember the d ay that an old timer knocked on my door. He
was cleaning out his barn and had decided to sell a box of old
wooden planes and other assorted items. He had heard that I worked
with old tools and brought them down to sell to me. He insisted that
my first offer was too high and that I cut it in half. "You will never
get anywhere until you learn not to throw your money around ," he
warned. I bought more than twenty planes, many made of lignum
vitae for little more than a dollar apiece. Of course such situations
do not occur every day and probably by the time I have another story
to tell which is as good as that one my friends will be quite relieved.
They hear it whenever we talk shop. However, when anyone is able to
buy an antique tool at a price that is lower than what he is willing to
pay he has a bargain in my opinion. And situations like this do occur
every day.
After having tried to convince woodworkers to switch to old tools
and especially after having recounted some stories that involve prices
the reader will think it unfair that at least some advice as to what he
should expect to pay is not included. However it would be foolish
for this book to try to make woodworkers aware of the value of an
tique tools because anything I write will be out of date before it can
be published. There are many factors which affect the prices tools
bring. Basically, they are supply and demand . Supply of old tools
varies from region to ragion as does the demand for them and the
result is that prices are continually changing. The only trend which has
been established is that prices continually increase. Five years ago in
New England one could buy wooden planes for a dollar or two apiece.
The prices paid for old tools have increased to the point that today
some dealers are actually able to make a profit by importin g Europea n
examples to sell to insatiable collectors.
Woodworkers migh t want to let this rule of thumb govern their

How and Where to B uy Old Tools 33
purchases of antique tools, at least until they h ave become more ex

perienced : Never pay more for an old tool than it would cost to pur
chase an equivalent modern one. Of course , there are so many
exceptions to this rule that it must be considered as just a guideline
for the novice to use until he is more familiar with what he wants to
collect and what he should pay. Generally, the current market value
of common tools such as chisels and wooden bench planes is well be
low their replacement costs with new ones. Any woodworker who is
experimenting with old tools will probably begin with these basics.
Later, if he experiences the satisfaction that this book has predicted
he may wish to expand his collection . By that time he will h ave de
veloped enough of an idea of what he should pay in his region of the
country so that he feels comfortable in making larger purchases.
Another factor the woodworker should keep in mind before be
ginning to search for a specific item is the popularity of certain tools
with tool collectors and the people who like to varnish so called prim
itives. For example , if it is a woodworker's ambition to become a
cooper he has already bitten off a sizeable mouthful in j ust the amount
of work which is required to learn the trade. His problems will be com
pounded by the fact that cooper's tools are currently very popular.
An aspiring cooper would h ave to pay an arm and a leg for a sun
plane , a howel and a croze. These tools h ave always been in demand
and are immediately recognized by every dealer. Consequently, these
planes are not Hkely to be found at bargain prices. A similar situation
has occurred with the lowly froe. This is a simple tool, but it is essential
to anyone who needs to split wood. Froes have tripled in value since
one was illustrated on the cover of a book about tools several years
ago. Their prices are going to increase as more and more people de
cide to try making their own riven clapboards and shakes. Also , since
these are such simple tools, they are often mistakenly l abeled as
primitives and end up covered with varnish.
A woodworker who would like to try working with old tools should
not be overly concerned by the fact that he is unfamiliar with the
antique market . Until such time that he is sure that he w ants to re
main committed to collecting and using old tools he need only be care
ful of what he buys. The time that will be required for him to purchase ,
restore and learn to use j ust the basic tools will be enough for him
to gain more confidence. If at any time he changes his mind and de
cides to return to the way he worked before, his antique tools need
not be a w aste of money. They are like any other type of antique. Be
cause the supply is constant and the demand is continually increllsing
anyone who buys wisely always gets at least his money b ack. As long
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34 AN TIQ UE WOODWORKING TOO LS

as he is prude nt, the mone y a woodworker inves ts in old tools migh t

as well be in the b ank. The rising prices being paid for these tools
insure s that a profit c an be m ade on those that are c arefully pur
chased . As a matter of fact, the woodworkers I know who use antiqu e
tools are as up to d ate on curren t values as are the dealers . They al
w ays h ave their eyes open for a tool which will allow them to turn a
dollar even if they have no intentio n of using it. A friend purcha ses
wooden planes wheneve r he finds one that is underpri ced. He cleans
and stores them until he has gathered enough to invite in a tool dealer
who makes an offer on the lot. He explains that he knows of no other
investme nt that would equal the profit he makes by carefully buying
and selling old planes. Another friend prefers to keep on hand several
well bought planes to be used as trade items in exchange for tools he
really w ants or needs. In this way his profits are realized in the form
of sizeable reductions in the actual cost of the tools he trades for.
Before a woodworker makes the decision to convert from new
tools to old it would only be reasonable for him to ask just what he
c an expect to find. This is a difficult question to answer and in fact it
might be e asier for us to first eliminate what the woodworker will not
find. General m anufacture of the types of tools we are discussing
ceased shortly after the Civil War. The actual tools have probably
been in disuse since the final quarter of the nineteenth century. This
means that in most cases nearly one hundred years have passed since
these tools were last given any regard. When they were being used and
maintained by their owners these tools often came in sets. However,
nearly four generations of Americans have abused, dispersed and de
stroyed the incredible number of antique tools that once existed. Tool
boxes of proud but long dead craftsmen have been scattered all over
the country. Complete tool boxes are not often found. When one is dis
covered, dealers know enough to not break it up, for there are col
lectors who are willing to pay enormous sums for a tool box which h as
survived intact. The few that have come to my attention in the l ast
several years have not waited long for a purchase r who is willing to
pay whatever price is asked.
Today, a single chisel may be all that remains as the sole repre
sentative of a comple te tool box once owned by a pre-ind ustrial
tradesm an. This means that a modern woodworker who is trying to
assemb le a set of firmer chisels will probably end up with six or
eight differen t sizes, all made by as many differen t tool compan ies
and originally owned by as many different craftsm en. He may want to
mark in "red on his c alenda r the day when he discovers even severa l

35

How and Where to B uy Old Toos
beading planes that were once part of a set. More than likely , any
graduation of moulding planes he will gather will represent as many
different makers as he h as planes. This means that a woodworker
will be disappointed if he hopes to quickly outfit his shop with antique
tools. Anyone who cannot enjoy the pursuit of old tools had perhaps
best remain with new ones. The desire to work with old tools implies a
willingness to exert the effort required to assemble them. In order to
be successful the hunt demands a certain amount of devotion. The
woodworker who is dedicated enough to his woodworking to search
for the most s atisfying way of practicing it will not be deterred by the
fact that assembling sets of old tools requires more effort than it
does to outfit with new ones.
Great and important discoveries are something a woodworker may
hope to make while gathering his tools, but he should not count too
heavily on it. For example, a modern craftsman may emulate Duncan
Phyfe and in practicing his craft strive to equal the abilities of this
renowned Scottish-American cabinetmaker but he might as well never
hope to own a Phyfe tool. Phyfe's tool box is intact and has been
preserved by his descendants. Winterthur will be delighted if someday
someone should stumble onto one of the missing tools that were once
part of the Dominy family collection. Some items are known to have
existed because they were mentioned in account books but were lost
between the time the Dominy workshop in Long Island fell into disuse
and the time it was reconstructed at the Delaware museum. Most of the
tools a woodworker will gather originally belonged to unknown crafts
men whose location , lack of great talent , or fate destined them to
obscurity. On the other hand , most nineteenth century toolmakers
marked their products and it is often possible to determine who made a
tool. Recently, some good lists of toolmakers have been published and
they are of invaluable assistance to a woodworker who is curious about
what he has found. Some of these books are listed in the bibliography.
In spite of the fact that pre-industrial woodworkers commonly stamped
their tools with either their names or initials , they themselves remain
obscure. Most often the woodworker knows the n ame of the man who
originally owned a tool but can find no history to attach to it. This is
an ironic contrast to the situation that antique collectors find them
selves in. They own the furniture some of these very tools were u sed
to make but have no n ame they can attach to their pieces. Still, acci
dents of history occur and do so just often enough that it is worth
mentioning them. A friend recently purchased three moulding planes,
each stamped "J . Dunlap". If indeed those planes did belong to Major
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John Dunlap, the founder of the famous New H ampshire cabinet

maki ng family, or one of his several sons and nephews whose names
began with the letter J , it is a great and rare discovery .
Sets of antique tools and importan t examples are two things
woodworke rs will probably not discover while making the transition
from new tools to old. What they can expect to find are plenty of good,
service able, general purpose tools. Even though the American pre
industrial society that produced these tools flourished during the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries it still relied on a medieval
technology. This does not mean that people wore armor and enjoyed
j ousting. A medieval technology is one that is dependant on muscle
( either human or animal ) for most of its power and which relies on
wood rather than metal for the raw material from which most of its
products are m ade. In a pre-industrial society with a medieval tech
nology most of the tradesmen still worked in wood. Consider what was
made with wood in e arly America. There were w agonwrights, cart
wrights, housewrights , millwrights, shipwrights, wheelwrights, not to
mention carpenters, joiners, cabinetmakers, chairmakers, toolmakers ,
wet and dry coopers, carvers, etc. Nearly everything early Americans
used , from the plates they ate off to the cogs in their machinery was
m ade of wood. When one considers how many tradesmen owned and
used woodworking tools in pre-industrial America he is not surprised
that so many examples have survived. But it is surprising that many,
many more of these tools are not still extant. Their destruction was
wanton and thorough. An accurate estimation would be impossible to
make, but it would not surprise me to learn that as little as one
wooden plane of every hundred made before the Civil War still
surVIves.

In spite of the thorough manner in which old tools were ravaged,

this was not done so completely that they are scarce. Any antique shop
man ages to have several for sale at any one time. There are still
enough so that tool dealers are able to make a living. It is reasonable
to assume that old tools still exist in the same ratio, one type to
another, as they did when they were being made. In other words, every
tradesm an needed a j ack plane and a smoothi ng plane. Consequ ently,
these tools what the woodwo rker will find most often. Only c abinet
makers, interior joiners and occasion ally housewr ights needed mould
ing planes. Men who built elabora te homes and the men who made
elabora te furnitu re to put in them used the same basic planes as did
country craftsm en who produc ed much simpler work. Howev er, only
the cabine tmaker s and j oiners needed the most exotic mould ings.
Therefore one can reason ably expec t to find many plane s which make

How and Where to Buy Old Tools 37
beads, rounds and hollows , as these were used in both elegant and
simple woodworking. Only very skilled and highly paid craftsmen
used the complex planes that made elaborate mouldings and bands.
Consequently one c an expect to find fewer complicated planes. A brief
examination of a tool dealer's stock shows that this assumption is
accurate. Special purpose tools such as scorps and sun planes were
used by only a few trades and one can expect them to appear on the
market with much less frequency. Bit braces , draw knives and chisels
were u sed by every craftsman and consequently they remain plentiful.
Most modern woodworkers who are converting to old tools will
want to use them in either makin g furniture or restoring building
interiors. It will be easier for these craftsmen to make the transition
since the tools they will need have survived in the greatest number and
are the easiest to find. Any woodworker who wants to experiment with
old tools will probably begin with the basics. To most this means a j ack
plane and a smoothing plane. These two types of planes are the most
common tools on the antique m arket. Because there is a l arge supply
of them their prices are low. Consequently, a modern woodworker does
not need to make a large expenditure before beginning this adventure.
He can experiment with an antique wooden j ack and smoothing plane
and if he enjoys them allow his collection to grow until it includes
scarcer, more expensive tools.
The more exotic the craft the woodworker h as chosen to pursue,
the more difficult it will be for him to outfit with old tools. Our
example, the man who wants to be a cooper, will have his problems
cut out for him , while another who only wishes to make furniture will
have a much easier time . The c abinetmaker who is content to build
Shaker reproductions will find all he needs in the way of old tools
much sooner than will someone who wants to copy more elaborate
furniture or who wants to specialize in an area such as Windsor
chairs. H owever, even though a would-be chairmaker has to search
for rarer tools he is aided by the fact that there is less competition
with other woodworkers for these items. But no matter what tools the
woodworker is seeking the supply can be expected to remain s teady for
years to come and to do so in spite of rising prices. Even when barns
and attics have been finally picked clean and no more tools are enter
ing the market there will still be enough to fill the needs of wood
workers. Tools will continue to be bought and sold as collections are
upgraded and dispersed . The woodworker who has m ade the transition
from new tools to old has no reason to worry that he will not be able
to find what he needs.
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ot to u
The woodworker's primary objective in collecting antique tools

should be to obtain those which give him the best possible performance.
In the search for old tools he is going to see and examine a tre
mendous variety, but out of all these he will eventually purchase and
use only the smallest fraction. This means that for one reason or
another the majority of available old tools will not be suitable for his
needs. The goal of this chapter is to explain why he will have to reject
most of what he sees or pass it by until such time as he is more
familiar with old tools, their values and the antique market. When the
format of this book w as planned, a separate chapter was to be set
aside to describe the restoration of each type of tool and the possible
flaws which the woodworker should be able to recognize. However,
there are some warnings and some general advice which are pertinent
to all old tools. So that it is not necessary to reiterate this information
in e ach chapter, it was decided that it would be e asier to treat it now
on its own.
It is an unusual occurance when one finds an antique tool which
is still in serviceable condition. The word "serviceable" means that
only its edge needs to be honed and the wood be given a light coat of
linseed oil before the tool can be put into use. Tools which remain in
a good state of preservation occasionally surface on the antique
market and if the price is reasonable they are well worth buying.
However, most antique tools have not been in regular use for the last
several generations. Probably not since their last professional owner
either retired or died. In most cases this means that the tools the
38

What Not to Buy

39
woodworker can expect to find have been shuffled around and abused
since late last century. Due to this long period of mistreatment most
old tools are in need of repair. The obj ect of this chapter is to help the
woodworker to be able to determine which tools are so badly damaged
that restoration is either impossible or not worth the effort.
This is the first question anyone who is planning to use a damaged
antique tool should ask before purchasing it. "Can it be repaired ? " I t is
nearly impossible to find someone else who is able to mend an old
tool for you. Modern workmen cannot usually be relied on. They have
no familiarity with old tools and seldom have any reEard for them .
This means that they will not treat them with respect. Even if they
are capable of doing the work their lack of concern is an indication
that they will not do it well. A t a flea market I once purchased an
early nineteenth century back saw for a dollar. It was not serviceable ,
since it had a crack in the cast steel blade. However, I felt certain that
with all the wonders twentieth century technology has made available
to us I would be able to find someone who could mend it for me . I
took it to a machine shop that employed a heliarc welder. The man
said the repair would be difficult to do and added that he could not
understand why I w anted it done in the firs t place. His disdain for
what he considered to be merely an old saw was obvious as he ex
plained that I would be able to purchase a new one for what he would
charge me to repair the old. He did not change his attitude in spite of
my attempts to explain that the saw was nearly as old as the U nited
States itself. He continued to regard it as a piece of j un k and thought
that his work would be a fool's errand. Since he was unable to appreci
ate the tool for what it was I decided not to leave it in his c are. It is
j ust this attitude that most woodworkers will experience if they depend
on others to do their repairs for them.
With this incident in mind a second question must be asked and
answered before a damaged tool is purchased. "Can the woodworker
make the repair himself?". This is an example. Many wooden planes
have been mistreated by people who tried to use them but who did not
understand how they work. Their irons are held firmly in place by a
wooden wedge. It is common to find a plane whose wedge has been
driven too tightly. The result of this is that the wood splits along the
sides of the throat. There is no repair that can be done which will ever
make the wooden body of the plane as strong as it originally was. It
will never again be able to withstand the pressure required by the
wedge to hold the iron properly. Descendants of pre-industrial trades
men who inherited their ancestors' wooden h andled chisels invariably
drove them with a hammer when they used them. Further blows from
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the hammer peened over the metal until it looked like a mushroom.
If the flattened metal is ground away the socket is too shallow to hold
a new h andle securely. In some cases the damage is so extensive that
even a blacksmith cannot re-form the socket. Planes or chisels in these
conditions are both examples of tools that cannot be repaired and that
the woodworker should pass by.
Another situation which is often encountered is the antique tool
which c an be restored but which would require more effort than it is
worth. This is usually the case when more time , translated into
monetary terms, is required to repair a tool than it would be simply to
find another and pay the market value. Consider the example of a
wooden block plane which is missing both its wedge and iron and
which has j ust been purchased by a professional woodworker for use
in his work. Its sole has been worn out of true. This has resulted in a
mouth that is so wide that when it is used the plane tears the wood .
The woodworker can usu ally find another iron and he certainly pos
sesses the skill required to make another wedge. The sole can be run
over a mechanical jointer or a longer bodied plane and a patch can
be fitted into the throat. Wooden block planes are common antique
tools and in good shape they usually sell for under $ 1 5. 00. However,
when the professional restores a plane which was in the condition
just described he spends much more in his own time and labor than
it is worth.
The value a non-professional places on both his time and efforts
are an individual matter. I t is possible to derive a great deal of
enjoyment by restoring an old tool such as this block plane. For no
other reason than the sake of this enjoyment the work may be worth
doing. Obviously, whether or not a tool is worth restoring depends on
many factors, some of them quite subjective. How badly does one want
and need a certain tool ? How quickly and how completely can it be
restored ? One may question the wisdom of the extensive repair of a
block plane. However, the replacement of the handle of a good chisel
is an example of a job which is always worth doing. Even if the wood
worker does not have access to a lathe he can e asily fashion an
octagonal handle with a draw knife. But let us maintain the continuity
of our example by considerin g another plane which needs restoratio n.
The same work which was necessary to return the block plane to
working condition would be very worthwhile if the plane were a rarer
type. Restora tion carpenters and joiners who specialize in interior
work recognize the value of a good cornice plane. These planes are
rare and when they do appear on the market they comma nd prices
which most woodworkers find prohibitive. If one discove rs the body of

What Not to B uy 41
such a moulding plane for a price that is only a fraction of the

value of a complete example it would be well worth the time required
to grind a replacement iron, make a new wedge and fit a patch into
the sole.
I t is usu ally within the capabilities of a woodworker to either
repair or duplicate the wooden parts of dam aged antique tools. How
ever, as was the case with my saw or a peened over chisel socket , the
abilities required to restore metal parts are not usually within his
experience. For this reason the condition of the blades of edge tools, or
their absence, determines to a great extent whether or not the item is
worth purchasing. However, a brief digression is necessary before this
topic is developed any further. There is a myth about antique tools
which must be dispelled. It is common to hear these statements
wherever antique collectors and Americana buffs gather. "They just
don't make steel like they used to", or "The steel in old tools is so
much better than what can be made today". In the pre-industrial
period steel was produced according to involved procedures which
had to be worked out by trial and error. Today , these recipes seem like
alchemy. At furnaces and forges smiths m ade their steel with compli
cated formulas and then had to feel or see if i t was right. I t is not
reasonable for us to think that such inexact techniques could surpass
the capabilities of modern metallurgy. Our technology allows u s to
manufacture steel which is harder and more consistent than that which
was prepared for u se in antique tools. However, today cheap tools are
being m ade for the home h andyman m arket. The 79 chisel m ade in Tai
wan will not contain good steel. But a sharp edge is not necessary for
such a tool since i t w as intended for use by the unskilled who will drive i t
with a h ammer through knots , n ails or anything else that gets in the
way. On the o ther h and, good Swiss or German c arving chisels that cost
$ 1 0. 00 apiece will contain fine s teel, which will be consistent from tool to
tool. Most people never use expensive modern tools and they are un
aware of the q u ality steel that metallurgy has made available. However,
everyone is familiar with cheap imported and domestic tools. There
were no counterparts to these shoddy tools in the pre-industrial
period. Woodworkers relied on their tools to gain their livelihood.
Tools were carefully made and as a result they were expensive. These
men expected an acceptable performanc e and consequentl y, tool mak
ers used-only the best steel they could obtain. Even if that steel was not
always as good as what is available today, and not always as con
sistent, i t was more than satisfactory for the work required of it.
Therefore , a woodwork er c an expect that the q u ality of the steel in the
antiqu e tools he purch ases will be up to snuff .
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How ever, when old tools fell into disus e and were mist reate d their
blade s were also abuse d. In order to recognize a blade which still
h as servic e in it the woodworker must first under stand how they were
m ade. Becau se of the involved and time consu ming proce sses used to
m ake steel it was an expensive produ ct. Its manuf acture was difficu lt
and consis tency was impos sible to maint ain. In order to economize on
the use of this costly metal , smiths and tool makers regularly made
only the edges of their cutting tools with steel. The bulk of their blades
were fashion ed from wrough t iron which was softer, but less expens ive.
A steel strip, usually about an inch wide, was forge welded onto a
wrought iron blade. When the final shaping on the anvil had been
comple ted, the steel was tempered and the blade mounted with either
a wooden body or a wooden handle depending on what tool it was made
for. During the eighteen th century a method for maufactu ring steel
in the crucible was developed in England. The steel was cast into ingots
and w as hence called "cast steel". These two words often stamped
onto the blades of antique tools do not indicate, as many collectors are
inclined to think, that the blade was cast to shape . It had been wrought
by a smith , but the steel was obtained from an ingot which had been
c ast. This new material did not become popular with tool makers
until the early nineteenth century, and when it did tool blades were
made entirely of it.
Most of the damage done to the blades of antique tools is the
result of both the high speed grinding wheel and the use of these tools
by people who either did not know how or did not care to maintain a
proper edge. Such people achieve a working edge by grinding it on a
wheel. This produces a microscopic wire edge which causes the user
to mistakenly believe that the tool is sharp. In reality this nearly in
visible, serrated effect cuts like a tiny saw, but it quickly we ars away
making it necessary for the user to return the tool to the grinder in
order to restore it. A workman who carE S about his tools USES a wheel
only to hollow grind his blades. This way, when the tool becomes dull
he can quickly restore a razor edge ( rather than a wire edge ) by first
honing the blade on an arkansas stone and then stropping it. A hollow
ground bezel can be used and maintained for a period of time that is
only determined by how often the tool is used. This was the method of
sharpening used by pre-industrial woodworkers. When one of their tools
which has man aged to escape abuse does come to light just a quick hon
ing and stropping will immediate ly restore the edge. When maintained
in this way a strip of steel an inch wide will last indefinit ely. However , a
grinding wheel will quickly remove it if the tool is commonly used by
an unskilled woodworker who relies on this method of sharpening and

What Not to Buy 43
its resulting wire edge. A good smith can reweld another strip of
steel to the blades of some antique tools such as a plane iron or a
chisel. The difficulty the woodworker faces is in finding the smith.
Welding another piece of steel to a blade is more difficult with such a
tool as a draw knife since the handles must be taken off. The process
is nearly impossible with a scorp. Not only must the handles be re
moved, but the blade must be flattened before the weld c an be m ade.
It then has to be reshaped. Assuming the woodworker is even able to
find a competent smith who has time to do the j ob it would be much
easier for him to simply order a new blade. After all, a scorp which has
been remade in this manner might as well be new.
There are other difficulties that result from excessive grinding and
which should be kept in mind. Sometimes too much steel is removed
to leave a workable tool. This often h appens to draw knifes and to
spoke shaves. Plane blades made in the nineteenth century had a chip
breaker which was attached by a large flat screw. This required that a
rectangular slot be cut in the iron. If the edge is ground too far back
this slot makes it necessary to retire the blade.
Pre-industrial woodworkers were proud of their tools. They
acquired the fines t examples they could afford. If it was within their
means these men worked with tools which were made of exotic woods
and which were elaborately inlaid with brass or other decorative
materials. By making the transition from new tools to antiquEs a
modern woodworker can capture and experience the same pleasure of
owning and working with such implements. These elaborate examples
were truly the apex of the tool maker's craft and like other products
made by artist-craftsmen , they appeal to our aesthetic sense . Un
fortunately , they also appeal to tool collectors who vie for them
vigorously. The desire by these people for such tools as well as their
willingness to pay prices which woodworkers can not generally afford
makes them expensive indeed . Antique dealers are very much aware
of the value of these decorated tools and the demand which collectors
have created for them . As a result, they are usu ally priced accordingly.
If a woodworker is able to find such a tool for a reasonable price he
should not hesitate to buy it, if for no other reason than as an invest
ment. I do know of an adjustable plow plane which was made in Boston
and which was purchased for $5.00 off the back of a picker's truck. I t
had so much brass on it that Paul Revere could have cast it into a
church bell.
Sometimes ivory was used as a decorative inlay in the place of
brass. Since this material is more rare it is more expensive. Some
species of foreign woods are superior to native varieties for use in tools.
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This group of scarps, a tool used by a number of different craftsmen
represents three different levels of tool making ability. The primitive
little example on the left was hammered out by some frugal early American
from an old scythe blade. Although it probably suited his needs a crafts
man would find it useless. The middle scarp may also be American. It
was fashioned by a skilled blacksmith but not a trained tool maker. And
although it performs its task satisfactorily the u ser is not inclined to
praise it. The third example is English and is definitely the product of
a trained craftsman. It is comfortable to hold, it performs precisely and
its circular blade, mounted with boldly turned handles invites the viewer
to feel its heft.
This is especially true of lignum vitae which is a tropical vine. As is

true of most vines its wood is extremely dense. Because it has been
claimed to contain its own n atural lubrication which decreases friction
and wear, it was sometimes used by toolmakers for the bodies of their
planes. The wood is so heavy that it actually will not float in water.
The yellow and brown streaking of its grain makes it particularly
handsome and for this reason lignum vitae tools usually end up dis
played on shelves in expensive collections. Other exotic woods that
were used by tool makers include boxwood, rosewood and ebony. All
three work like petrified soap and wear as well as does lignum vitae.
Boxwood and rosewood were often made into marking gauges, some of
which were l avishly bound with brass. There was a miniature ebony
compass plane in a box of tools I once bought. Although well used
it still performs with honor.
Ornamented tools are one area of collecting where a woodworker
c an spend a lot of money. Before involving himself with them he
should first become familiar with the m arket, as any area where large
sums of money change hands is no place for a novice. Invariably, he
What Not to Buy 45
will be the loser. I t is much better for a woodworker to experiment and

learn with more common tools. If in the process of learning to restore
tools he ruins one of these, less damage is done. L ater his e arly pur
chases c an be used to finance the collecting of better tools, but i n the
beginning it is usually a mistake to substitute brass for function.
Simple tools will work equally as well as will the more elaborate ones.
Even though Duncan Phyfe owned a box of fancy tools his journeymen
( who did the bulk of the work ) did not. They owned and u sed what
they could afford. These are the very same antique tools which
beginning woodworkers collect today. There is no need to apologize for
them as they are simply the more economical line and were often the
products of the same tool makers. The skill possessed by the craftsmen
who made these tools insures that although they are less elaborate ,
they are h andsome and are comfortable in a workman's h ands. The
more simple tools m ay lack ornament, but they do not l ack beauty or
function.
The s ame caveat which was made in regards to brass and exotic
woods applies to primitives. The reader m ay remember that there are
collectors who purchase all sorts of old implements. These objects are
erroneously classified as primitives , but ice tongs and h ay forks simply
do not qualify. A tool which was not produced by a tool m aker and
which consequently lacks sophistication and function is a primitive.
Such tools were usually made by farmers or non-woodworkers to per
for simple t asks that they did not h ave to do regularly. I t did not
matter to its maker that the tool did not perform well because both it
and its intended u se were temporary or occasional. A good example of
such a tool is the primitive scorp illustrated alongside finer, more
functional examples. The scorp which was made by a tool m aker is
obvious, since its design is the most sophisticated. The other one was
probably produced by a domestic blacksmith and is functional , al
though it l acks the more developed form of the first. The primitive
scorp does not possess either quality. It was made from an old scythe
and the steel is too thin for its purpose. The blade chatters when
cutting wood and the result is an irregular surface. The handles are
too close together and are not set at the proper angle. One c an not
hold it with two h ands as was intended and w hen it is used the
handles drag on the work. I t probably performed satisfac torily for the
farmer -who made it since the demands he placed on his tool were not
exacting. However, this scorp is totally useless to a professional wood
worker since it is too poorly designed for any degree of comfort and
it does not produce an acceptable surface. Besides the h ay fork and
ice tongs people there is a well established group of collectors who
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actively seek true primitives of all sorts. Primitive tools such as the
scorp p articularly appeal to these buyers. In its own right this scorp de
serves to be collected and preserved . I t is an interesting p art of the story
of America's development. I t was made by some resourceful, thrifty
farmer who saw to his own needs rather than relying on someone
else. It is the product of a man who was self sufficient in a way that
few of u s are today. However, in spite of its interest and value as a
primitive, a woodworker would not find it functional. I t simply does not
perform as well as is necessary for the manufacture of furniture or
other saleable wooden obj ects.
Both the people who enjoy true primitives as well as those who
purchase the ersatz primitives that are riding a wave of current
popularity are like tool collectors in that they e agerly seek what
interests them and are willing to pay ever increasing prices. It may
seem silly to buff and varnish commonplace implements made only
several decades ago, but this is of no concern to the woodworker.
What does concern him is the need to avoid primitives. They are
certainly appealing, as is the little scorp, but they do lack the con
tinuity of a tool making tradition. It was just this continuity and the
slow evolution of tried and accepted adapations which resulted in the
ability to manufacture fine tools. Primitives are charming and it is
this feature that collectors seek. The woodworker who makes the
mistake of competing with them for primitives will pay dearly for this
intangible and unserviceable attribute which will never benefit him.
Furthermore , he will end up paying inflated prices since these pieces
are in such demand. As is true of elaborated tools a woodworker who
is familiar with the antique market and has trained his eye may
occasionally pick up a sleeper for a very low price. But unlike an
elaborated tool the woodworker will probably want to turn a well
bought primitive into profit. It can be sold outright, or traded for some
thing more useful. Antique dealers are usually agreeable to a trade if
they think it might be to their advantage. Consequently, trading well
bought primitives is one way to keep down the cost of functional tools.
On the other hand, the craftsman might find that he himself enj oys
primitive tools and might decide to collect them as a hobby separate
from woodworking. Considering their appeal and charm, it is not un
imaginable. Without wanting to use these tools one can easily become
enchanted with them. But I repeat, unless he collects primitives it
is an expensive mistake to substitute the quality of charm for function
because ultimately a woodworker can not expect his work to be any
better than his tools. The fine furniture that was created in the pre-

,
What Not to Buy
47
industrial period was not done by unsophisticated workmen using

primitive implements.
Once a modern woodworker has started to collect and work with
old tools he becomes an antique collector even though that might not
have been his intention. In order to become successful at finding and
purchasing the old tools he needs to use in his work he must first
develop the skill and cleverness which is such an intregal part of
antique collecting. The only difference between the woodworker and
the person who furnishes his house in antique furniture , or who has
shelves full of glass and pottery ware , is what he collects. Otherwise,
they are all antique collectors and their purchases help sustain an
active marketplace which is no small part of the American economy.
One of the first lessons an antique collector learns is that because of
rarity, fragility or superior workmanship there are some antiques which
must not be endangered by the hazards of daily use.
Rare antiques have a double value. The first is the most obvious
and can be appreciated by even those people who do not understand
or simply do not care about the second value . Rare antiques are worth
more money than common examples because of the very simple
relationship that exists between supply and demand. Moreso, rare
antiques are important because the few examples that exist m ake a
statement about a h andful of accomplished craftsmen whose art has
otherwise perished. These pieces allow us to understand that statement
and prevent it from being lost irretrievably. In other words, rare
antiques, besides being worth more money , edify our presence on this
planet by preserving something of those who were here before us, and
something that we would not otherwise have.
Fragile antiques are not able to endure daily use. Subjecting them
to this wear and tear usually damages them or destroys them al
together. Although fragile antiques are not necessarily rare, if antique
collectors did not recognize their need for preservation they might
quickly become so. Furthermore , every antique , no matter how com
mon, tells us something about the maker, the user and the w ays in
which they either worked or lived . Any object which helps us to gain
an appreciation of our roots and origins must be protected. Also, any
thing which is aesthetically pleasing deserves to be preserved. This is
even more imperative if the piece has already man aged to survive
centuris or more. The few times that my negligence has been
responsible for damage to antiques I h ave felt like the maniac who
attacked Michelangelo's Pieta with a hammer. The world might not
equate damage to an antique wooden plane with the destruction of
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48
one of its finest pieces of sculpture. Though one is a felony and the
other merely a misdemeanor, it is still the same crime. Something that
was c arefully m ade by skilled hands which could be enjoyed by those
who would only stop a moment to look has been diminished. It is not
pleasant to think that this object had survived two hundred years
until it ran into me. Two hundred years of abuse did not do what 1
w as capable of doing in only one moment of neglect.
This is a ratio which has always existed among craftsmen. A few
are poor workmen and if they survive it is by struggling. The majority
are of average ability and supply the bulk of any product to the market.
A handful are significant and because of their exceptional talent
produce for the most discerning of connoisseurs. In fact, this same
ratio is fully applicable to the human race. When one views antique
tools in terms of this postulate he concludes that some of these tools
will be clumsy, unappealing and ineffective. Most will be comfortable ,
good looking and perform well. However, there will exist a few which
will be so well conceived and executed that they qualify in their own
right to be called works of art. A painting or sculpture of this qu ality is
called a masterpiece and there is no reason why we should not use the
same term to refer to the artistry of the greatest tool makers. A
masterpiece of any sort cannot be owned. When one is made it is of
such importance that it belongs to Humanity. One does not own such
a work, even though it may be in his possession. He is only its trustee ,
protecting it for future generations. This is why masterpieces are
placed in museums where they can be appreciated by everyone. They
belong to everyone. The same applies to a tool which is a masterpiece.
A tool of this quality deserves preservation. It belongs on a mantel or
in a museum, not in a tool box.
The realization that rarity, fragility or beauty makes an antique
unsuitable for daily use has long been a problem for antique collectors.
Fortunately, pieces that are rare or of exceptional quality are unusual,
so the average collector can not expect to acquire too many. Those few
examples that one does find can be placed so as to keep them out of
h arm's w ay. A Windsor chair can be put in a bedroom where i t is used
as a dressing chair. A shirt is the heaviest weight it will have to bear.
A Staffordshire soup tureen can be placed on a table in the living
room or: on an out of the way shelf. This obligation to protect and
preserve fine pieces has made antique collectors the butt of many jokes.
A good deal of fun has been made of the incurable collector who has a
house full of unuseable furniture. More than one television situation
comedy has had a buffoon sit on a rare antique chair only to have it
collapse under him. While no one would want a houseful of such

What Not to Buy 49

pieces, collecting antiques ( even antique tools ) will eventually force

the collector to face this problem . The answer is to regard the piece
as sculpture in the round. One should trea t the comic's collapsible
chair as art in the s ame way one does a p ainting h anging on the wall.
In the case of the chair the collector learns to walk around it as well as
by it.
Because he has become an antique collector the moment he
starts to use antique tools, the woodworker who has made the tran
sition will eventually find himself in just this situation. He will at
some time come across a rare , a fragile or a masterpiece tool. If he
buys i t he bears an obligation to himself and to his fellow humans
( whether they have any concern for the piece or not ) to see to its
preservation. There are people who make a show of their disd ain for
antiques and they might challenge this statement. In my experience I
have found that any woodworker who cares enough about his craft to
want the satisfaction only obtainable from old tools has already
separated himself from the callous and indifferent. He appreciates both
the beauty of wood and the beauty of things that c an be made of i t
when i t is worked properly. If one appreciates beauty in one area he
will most likely respect it in all others. For these reasons most wood
workers seeking old tools for use in their work will respect the
antique tools that fall into any of the three categories of rare , fragile
and m asterpiece. They will be content to treat them as obj ects that
should be appreciated for the craftsmanship and artistry which was
responsible for their creation . They will feel a responsibility for the
preservation of these tools. Or, if they do not experience this commit
ment they will pass such tools by and leave them for those who will
care for them. -
The difficulty the woodworker faces is in realizing what tools
should be included in these c ategories. Only experience c an train him
to determine what is rare or fragile. An appreciation for the finest
forms is also a learned response and not an inherent one. I can give
examples, but ultimately the decision of what needs to be preserved
and what m ay be used safely is a subjective m atter. A woodworker
who needs to bore holes might w ant to u se old bits as they still per
fonn very well. H e will probably w an t to use a brace which is con
temporary with these bits and whose chuck was designed to receive
their tapered shanks. However, he should purchase a metal brace ,
either the type commonly used by c arriage makers in the eighteenth
century, or the style referred to as a "gentlemen's brace" which was

introduced in the e arly nineteenth century. H e will not use a wooden

brace because they are fragile . They tend to fracture where the pivot is
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fitted into the wooden stock. A marked American brace, the identifiable
product of a native tool manufacturing firm, might be rare and should
not be endapgered by use. Some of the braces produced in Sheffield,
England were made of exotic woods and were inlaid with brass plates
which reinformed the wooden stock. This was to enhance the tool as
well as offset the propensity of the wood to break at the stress point.
Some of these tools must be considered masterpieces and should not
be used.
As is true of tools which are masterpieces, rare , or fragile, when
for any reason it is necessary to determine what not to buy the decision
is up to the woodworker. He is on his own as he always is when seeking
old tools. Unless his funds are unlimited he can not afford to buy
without deliberation and purpose. He will make mistakes, but he must
realize that these are the best teacher and he must not allow them to
dampen his ardor. However, as much as one can learn from his errors
it is important that he be able to recognize a potential mistake in
advance and avoid it. This is an indication that the woodworker's
instincts are maturing. When his knowledge of old tools and his
familiarity with them has become more advanced he will develop his
own guidelines for collecting. Until then his best protection is to avoid
tools whose prices are determined by their appeal to another market.
Primitives and exotic examples, as well as tools he can not repair,
will not advance his woodworking skill and they are an unnecessary
expense. His objective should be to purchase only that which will
give him the maximum of performance.

enc an e s
Tremendous changes occurred in woodworking during the 1 9th

century as its practice evolved from the pre-industrial to the modern
manner. The impact of the early development, the later improvement
and the 20th century phenomenon of the universal availability of l abor
saving machinery is best illustrated by the w ay that cratfsmen ceased
to rely on bench planes. A pre-industrial craftsman was dependent on
the array of carefully maint ained planes that produced the uniform
stock that he needed to shape or j oin his products. Without these
planes he would have been helpless for he had no other means
of dressing boards from rough sawn lumber. Much of our present
woodworking machinery was developed during the mid-1 9th cen
tury. Most of the effort of these inventors was directed toward
reducing the industry's dependence on bench planes and freeing
the craftsman from them so that more of his skill could be de
voted to j oining and assembling. This freedom reduced the price of
wooden products such as furniture since less time was required to make
a single piece . Production was increased by using the time which
machinery had s aved to repeat the shortened process. By 1 845 the
thickness planer was developed and perfected. No sooner was this
machine available than it began to produce for the woodworking
industry -an unlimited supply of board and planks each dressed to a
uniformity and smoothness never conceived by pre-industrial wood
workers. The planer was soon followed by a parade of other powered
tools, all designed for the express purpose of freeing woodworkers
from their reliance on hand planes. The woodworking industry was
51
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quickly transfo rmed to accomm odate these new mechan ical shapers ,
j ointers and sanders.
Today, many woodworkers, profess ional and amateu r alike, are
totally unacqu ainted with the proper use of bench planes. Only a
generat ion or so ago woodwo rking machin es were too costly and too
bulky to be found outside of factories and large shops. But our tech
nology has a wondrous ability to miniaturi ze and make portable. Our
use of assembly line productio n , smaller electric motors and light
alloys h ave made it practical and affordable for even non-profe ssionals
to rely on woodwork ing machinery. Bench planes may have once been
the tyrants of the woodworkin g industry but slowly and inexorably
they have lost their sway. The modern woodworker seldom uses a hand
plane for any purpose other than quickly removing excess wood from
an unseen surface . An examination of the average plane as it is main
t ained by today's woodworker would make an ancient m aster ill. To
the modern craftsman a nicked and dented plane is not a matter of
great concern. When necessary his omnipresent belt sander can quickly
take care of any mar his plane has made.
In order to fully appreciate how dependent on his bench planes
the pre-industrial woodworker was it is first necessary to visualize his
situation. When these craftsmen purchased lumber i t came from the
mill in an unfinished state called roughsawn. Modern craftsmen do not
often see rough-sawn wood unless they are paneling a room with
old barn boards. The lumber they usu ally work is mechanically planed
at the mill to pre-determined dimensions. Thickness planing results
in a series of faint , narrow lines on the surface of a board. These are
called milling marks and are made by the machine's rapidly spinning,
cylindrical blades. Milling marks are easily removed with a belt sander,
yet by today's relaxed stand ards they are so inoffensive that it is not
uncommon to find them on the visible surface of even professionally
,
built interior cabinetwork. The pre-industrial woodworker would have
stood in awe at such uniformity. The rough-sawn lumber that was
available for him to work with was highly irregular. Prior to the
development of the rotary saw mills were equipped with slow recipro
cating blades. Some increase in production was possible by arranging
these blades in a gang which would make several cuts with each pass
of the log. But a gang of saws required considerabl e force and these
mills were always low powered. Falling water seldom produced more
than the strength of a couple of good horse teams. The movement of
these blades slowed perceptibly when passing through a knot. This
resulted in a wider cut or kerf, which made the board thinner at that
point. This irregularity is what was available as lumber to early
craftsmen.
-
. ..
The rough sawn pine plank on

the left is in the same state as
all lumber that entered a pre
industrial woodworking shop. It

is contrasted with another that
-
has already been tried and
trued.
Before a piece of wood could be shaped i t had to be m ade uniform.

The gashes left by the saw while cutting the board from the log were
quite deep. I t was a waste of time to remove only a thin shaving with
e ach pass of the plane and obviously something dramatic was called
for. The plane which was used for this purpose h ad been developed
well before the birth of Christ. In fact, if Jesus was indeed a carpenter,
he was also faced with the need to remove a thick chip from the
surface of rough lumber. The tool which was used was called al
ternately a j ack or a fore plane. At least some effort is spent by every
one writing on the subject of wooden planes to determine the difference
between a j ack and a fore plane. Some have concluded that the term
j ack is the most recent , h aving evolved during the 1 8th century.
Others claim that the plane was called a fore by j oiners and a j ack by
carpenters. This may be a m atter of importance to scholars and
museum curators who need to use the correct term when labeling an
exhibit, but since the two planes differ neither in appearance nor pur
pose the question of nomenclature is merely academic to the practi
tioner of the woodworking arts. It makes no difference what he calls
his plane as long as it performs satisfactorily the task for which i t
was developed.
Prior to industrialization in America and Europe , bench planes
were most often made of wood. The body of a fore plane is normally
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54
in the area of 1 5 inches long, and like all other planes its iron was held
tightly in the tool's throat by a wooden wedge. It is not important to
discuss these characteris tics here since this chapter is adequately
illustrated with pictures of bench planes. What is important to the
modern woodworke r who plans to introduce antique bench planes into
his craft is the tool's function. Integral to this function is the tradi
tional shaping of both the plane's iron and its bottom, c alled its
sole. Considerable effort was required to push this plane through the
surface of rough-sawn lumber. In the interest of saving both time and
energy it was necessary to remove a shaving sometimes as thick as a
1 6th of an inch with each pass. If the iron was ground with a square
edge the corners of the cutting surface would dig deeply into the wood
causing the plane to choke and stall. Consequently, the iron of the
j ack or fore plane was ground convexly. This curved edge removed a
round bottomed chip and left a concomittant concave furrow with each
pass. Because the blade was shaped in this manner the plane was able
to discharge a heavy shaving without c ausing the throat to clog, or
choke as it was called.
Prior to the introduction of the mechanical thickness planer fore
planes were made with a rounded sole which conformed to the
shape of the convex blade. However, use of the fore plane by
woodworkers overlapped the beginning of industrialization and con
sequently this plane was somewhat transformed in conjunction with
the availability of milled boards. When lumber which had already been
smoothed to a predictable thickness at the mill could be purchased the
craftsman was no longer reliant on his j ack or fore plane to rough
smooth wood. However, the first generation of industrial woodworkers
had been trained in the earlier techniques and the craftsmanship they
had learned at the master's elbow died slowly. The standards that were
acceptable to these men were much more rigid than those which a
modern woodworker allows. Even after the advent of the thickness
planer milling marks in a visible surface were removed. The tool that
dressed this mechanic ally planed lumber was still called a j ack or fore
plane , but it had evolved somewh at as the result of the introduc tion
of uniform wood. The sole was now flat and the iron was ground
square to conform . Since only a thin shaving needed to be taken from
the surfac e of milled lumber in order to remove milling marks , the
concave blade found on earlier fore planes was no longer necessar y.
It was explain ed in a previo us chapte r why the numbe r of 1 9th
century tools availab le on the antique market is much greater than the
amoun t of earlier examp les. This means that a modern craftsm an is
more likely to purch ase for use in his woodworking one of these late

Bench Planes 55
fore planes made during the last century. The tool he buys will most
likely h ave a squared sole. However, such a plane will work rough
sawn lumber with as much command as will one of its e arlier an
cestors if its iron is ground to the older convex shape. This is what was
done with the fore plane which was restored for the photographs which
accompany this chapter.
A fore plane requires considerable force to pass it over rough
sawn wood. When a craftsmen uses one of these tools he understands
why uniform, milled lumber must have been viewed as a veritable
boon to woodworking when it was first introduced. Every surface , both
visible and unseen was customarily rough smoothed with this plane.
In the construction of just a small piece of furniture such as a kitchen
table this meant that some 25 sq. ft. of surface ( top and bottom of
the leaves ) had to be planed. The mind boggles when it tries to con
template how much surface area had to be smoothed in order to build
a paneled wall, or even more so a house. The effort that is required
to push such a plane means that pre-industrial woodworkers must h ave
been much stronger through the shoulders and arms than are their
descendants. I know that many of my joiner friends who use pre
industrial techniques and tools often complain of tenderness in the
elbow after a day of smoothing even soft pine boards. Today, this is
an ailment we assign to tennis players and baseball pitchers , but i t
may be that i t was originally called j oiner's elbow. It is interesting to
wonder what a woodworker did if he developed tendonitis. Assumedly
he simply suffered with it.
Because so much force is required to move a fore plane through
the surface of a board it is necessary for the woodworker to put the
weight of his body into each thrust. This means that the stroke of the
fore plane is short, no longer than the throw of the craftsman's arm.
In using the fore plane the woodworker does not w alk the length of
the board pushing the plane, as he cannot maintain the force required
to make the for plane function unless standing still and putting his
shoulder into the motion. In working various hard woods such as
maple , the fore plane was often pushed across the grain at an angle
approaching the perpendicular. U sed in this manner the throw is
shorter and more weight can be direc ted behind the plane. It is interest
ing that a modern wooden plane has been developed for this purpose
and is being sold. It is called a scrub plane and has the curved sole
and blade so familiar to the ancient fore or j ack.
A rough planed board is not aesthetically pleasing. The surface is
furrowed very irregularly by the plane tracks. This was considered
sufficient for an unseen surface or perhaps pine sheathing in the b ack
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hall or an upstairs bedroom. Those who are inquisitive can find ex

amples of them on the back of most antique case pieces, the bottoms
of most Windsor chairs and the undersides of drawers. They can
usually be felt, assuming that the reader does not particularly want to
make a spectacle of himself by lying on the floor of an antique shop
or a museum in order to verify the information in this paragraph.
Though rough planing was acceptable for back boards and under
sides i t is obvious that something further had to be done to a board
before it could be shaped or j oined.
The next tool used in this time consuming process of creating
uniform stock from rough lumber is called either a try or trying plane.
A pre-industrial woodworker was said to try the surface of a board
when he used this plane. It would smooth away the tracks created by
the fore plane. The try plane is longer than the first, usu ally about 22
inches. Its body is wider than a fore plane and its sole is always
squared, as is its iron. The longer body , the wider throat and iron all
assist the woodworker in producing a uniform surface. This plane rides
over the ripples created by the first process. Its square edge trims the
high spots with each successive pass until the chip starts to discharge

in long thin strips. When these begin to exit from the plane's throat as
continuous shavings unbroken from one end of the board to other the
craftsman knows that the surface is smooth. Because the face of a
board must be extremely even, it is necessary for the craftsman to
w alk the length of a longer piece of lumber when using a try plane. He
is able to do so because the set of this plane is so much more shallow
than that of the j ack or fore. He marches along the side of the bench
pushing the plane in a steady and even motion. If the tool should stall
it will leave a mar in the surface making it necessary to return to the
other end and start the pass all over again.
There is a problem associated with the try plane which is not a
factor with the first tool. This is a result of the fact that the iron is
ground square instead of convexly. If the iron is set at all askew in
the plane's throat the square corners will dig into the wood causing
an obvious gouge. To avoid this it is necessary that the cutter be set
at a very shallow depth. A try plane removes a shaving as thin as
tissue paper and to set the bl ade properly the woodworker must be
very familiar with his tool. The iron is first set in place and the wedge
struck with only enough force to set it lightly. As the back of the iron
is tapped with a m allet or small hammer its edge is driven closer to
the mouth of the throat. The craftsm an's fingers play gently but con
tinuou sly over the mouth feeling the depth of the iron. When it begins
to scrap e his finger tips it is near ing its proper settin g. If one corner or
the other is too low the blade is adj usted by tappin g that side until it

Bench Planes 57
is set squarely in the throat. If the blade is set too deeply i t is backed
off by lightly striking the heel of the plane with a wooden m allet .
Several staccato taps return i t to where the craftsman desires. Once
the blade is in its proper position the wedge is driven in more firmly.
Attempting this may convince the woodworker that the plane is so
called more likely because setting its iron is such a trying experience.
The modern woodworker who has in the past given his planes little
care and rough treatment will quickly learn to handle a try plane with
more attention. Should the tool be dropped or carelessly h andled the
iron will be j arred loose and will have to be reset.
The try plane will leave most boards with an acceptable surface
which only needs to be finished with either fine sandpaper or a scraper.
Better j oiners tried even the bottom of mahogany table leaves to re
move the pronounced tracks left by the fore plane. But for obvious
reasons they were not as meticulous with this task as they were when
smoothing the upper surface.
Some of the boards that were commonly used in interior j oining
and cabinetwork were even longer than those necessary for the l argest
of furniture pieces. On the surface of very long boards even the body
of a try plane can be too short to remove all the irregularities and
another plane is c alled for to produce a surface which is sufficiently
true . This is called the j ointer. Such planes were m ade in a number
of lengths ranging from twenty-six inches to nearly a full yard long.
The j ointer has a square sole and iron as does the try plane and is
used to produce a smooth surface in the same fashion as its shorter
counterpart.
The modern woodworker quickly realizes the name of the j ointer
plane implies a more important function on the work bench. This plane
was regularly used for producing square edges satisfactory for j oining
boards together just as does the man-eating machine which bears its
name today. However, the pre-industrial woodworker needed to be
more concerned with not dropping this heavy plane on his foot than
keeping his fingers safely away from a machine's m aw and its high
speed carnivorous blades.
Even during a period in the history of woodworking when pine
could be obtained in 30" widths and behemoth mahogany logs were
imported as fast as woodworkers could consume the timber, i t was
necessary to glue boards together in order to produce an even wider
surface. Such a j oint requires an exact edge which is true along its
entire length and which forms a perfect right angle. The j ointer is
used on a board which has been clamped edge up in the bench vise. If
the board is short it can be j ointed with a try plane . Consequently,
when the larger plane is in use the board is assumedly a longer one.
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This process is called shootin g. It is much easier to try a board's sur

face than to j oint its edge. On the face the plane lies flat and needs
only be pushed with a steady motion while being gently guided by the
free hand. This is not so with shooting. The narrow surface on which
the much wider plane must run invites the tool to rock to one side or
the other. If it should do this the edge will not be perfectly square and
the resulting j oint will be sloppy. There are at least two methods that
I know of for using the j ointer successfull y. Some woodworkers in
my acquaintan ce prefer to hold the plane at a slight angle in relation
to the length of the board. This means that the three lines formed by
the edge of the board and the sides of the plane body are not exactly
parallel, although the sole remains at a right angle to the edge. Others ,
as well as myself, feel most comfortable keeping the plane body and
the board parallel. The plane is held square by squeezing the sole and
the top of the tool between the fingers and thumb of the foremost
hand. Since the fingers are gripping the sole of the plane ahead of the
mouth and iron they can act as a fence to keep the plane both square
and parallel while shooting the edge.
By watching the chip the craftsman can usu ally tell when he has
allowed his plane to run out of square. Once the edge of the board is
true and has no more hollows in it the mouth of the plane should ride
on it continuously from one end of the board to the other. If this is so
the iron will cut a chip which is also continuous. If the plane is riding
square it will remove a length of chip which does not vary in width.
This is so because the entire surface of the edge is being shaved. Not
until a chip which is both as long as the board and invariably as wide
as the edge exits from the throat has the plane shot a joint which is
square. After he has completed both functions of these two long planes
on the face and edges of a board a woodworker has obtained a length
of uniform stock which was said to be tried and true.
Pre-industrial woodworkers had a fourth type of bench plane in
their tool boxes. A short plane with a wide sole was used for smooth
ing small areas or irregular grain and was called either a block or
smoothing plane. Every woodworker would like to use stuff which is
consisten t and straight grained but n ature did not mean it to be so.
The wood most of us work has knots, rising grain and curl in it. When
a board is tried the grain around a knot will plane easily on one side
and tear on the other. The only way to elimin ate this is to be able to
plane in one direction on one side of the knot and the reverse on the
far side. This is one of the many purpo ses of the versatile smoot hing
plane . When the trying plane would be too clumsy to work around a
knot the smoothing plane is used.

Bench Planes 59
It would be unfair and inaccurate to imply that this is the only

,
function of this plane. Because it is so small and can be held in one
hand it has m any purposes. These u ses are innumerable since every
craftsman develops them according to his own needs. As a chairmaker
I use a block plane for smoothing the rounded sides of chair seats,
evening short glue j oints , for chamfering edges, and smoothing short
pieces of wood. The edge of a smoothing plane needs to be honed
until it will literally shave hair so as to be able to work around knots
or curl in a visible surface such as a table top. If the blade is any
duller than a razor it will tear wood grain. However, it is very difficult
to maintain an edge that sharp on a tool that is u sed as often as the
average hand woodworker needs a smoothing plane . For this reason
most woodworkers who use pre-industrial tools keep at least two of
this type on hand. The better of the pair is used for smoothing when
the sharpest of edges is required. The other is put to all those count
less tasks that require a short, handy plane. My tool box contains
several smoothing planes. The best is made of lignum vitae and is used
whenever the occasion demands a precise tool. The others are more
common beech examples and each is reserved for any number of spe
cial tasks.
Besides maintaining his smoothing plane with a razor ed ge the
craftsman must obtain a set that is even finer than that of the trying
plane. The smoo thing plane is used for finish work on the visible
surfaces of boards and must be capable of cleaning up any mars made
by the larger tools without making any of its own. The woodworker
who is using antique tools will want to sequester his finish plane
safely in some corner of his tool box lest the edge be nicked or the set
j arred . Either accident is a maj or annoyance since this tool must never
function less than perfectly.
In this chapter the bench planes that were discussed were those
which would normally be found in an early American woodworker's
shop or tool box and they have been divided into the traditional four
categories ; the j ack or fore plane, the try plane , the j ointer and the
smoothing plane. However, tool catalogs from the 1 8th and 1 9th cen
turies show that there were several other less known bench planes
available to the ancient woodworker. These were designed for special
or intermediate purposes. Such planes were not included in this chap
ter because this book was meant to help the practitioner who wants to

incorporate antique tools into his work and it was felt that mention
of these obscure planes might confuse the issue rather than illuminate
it. In addition , I feel that these tools would not h ave been found in
most tool boxes because they were used for specific purposes and were
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probably owned only by specialized woodworkers. The long floor j ointer

is a good example of this. The purpose of this unwieldly plane is given
as trying and truing floor boards. If so, its use would have been in
building construction and it would only be necessary for one man in
any crew to own one. If anyone who has read this book ever has to lay
a wide pine floor he can easily make do with a good bench j ointer.
After all, that is what an early American craftsman would have done
if he could either not afford the floor j ointer or did not have one handy.
I would be willing to bet that more floor boards were j ointed with a
plane of the traditional length than one of these larger cousins.
Rather than worry about such limited purpose planes today's
woodworker who is using antique tools would do better to analyze his
needs and perhaps direct his energies toward locating those which
accomodate both his craft and his pocketbook. It might be better to
keep this in mind. Eventually, wooden planes can be worn out. Not
only is it a shame to use up an antique tool, it is a bother to try to
replace it when it finally refuses to perform any longer. Therefore , any
A modern cabinetmaker or joiner will want to acquire a similar selection

of bench planes if he is intending to use antique tools. The jointer is on
the left. I t is juxtaposed by the try plane. Next, are two fore planes. One
does the rough work while the other is reserved for more delicate jobs.
The beech smoothing plane also performs any number of imaginable
tasks that call for a short, versatile tool. The lignum vitae example on
the end is for finishing.

:el --
-- toe
sole mouth abutments

ill ( double ) wear
throat _
cheek razee
bed
stock

chip legs
wedge
breaker

Plane speaking : A wooden plane has m any whose names are unfamiliar
to the modern woodworker.
woodworker who would expect a single tool to do a heroic amount of

work might want to consider owning several and spreading the load
over them all . For example, I own a number of fore planes as do most
of my friends who use antique tools. One I reserve for use on hard
wood because it has the tightest throat. Also, it is made of live oak
which means it is more able to withstand the wear caused by h ard
woods. I have another live oak for plane which I s ave for pine boards
that will be used in case work. The last of my fore planes is m ade of
beech and is not in as fine a condition as the first two. I use it for
planing back boards and knotty stuff, a chore which is hard on any
plane. By using e ach for a purpose that suits my personal needs I
divide the wear and tear in a reasonable manner.
A factor the woodworker might wan t to keep in mind when he is
planning his purchases around the special needs of his own craft is
the fact that some planes were actu ally intended for u se on hardwood
while others were designed for soft. This distinction is made by the
pitch of the bed. The bed is the b ack of the throat and is the surface
on which the iron lies when pinched in place by the wedge. A plane
which is designed for soft wood has a more shallow set to its bed than
does one intended for h ardwood. The blade of such a plane is set at
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forty five degrees, an angle known as the common pitch. The place
ment of the blade in a plane designed for hardwoo d is at fifty degrees
and is called a York pitch. C abinetm akers who regularly worked
heavily figured woods such as walnut, mahogany and curly maple
would own a smoothin g plane with its blade set at an even steeper
angle of fifty-five degrees. This was called the middle pitch. There i s a
more extreme set of sixty degrees known as the half pitch. However,
this was usually used on moulding planes intended for heavily figured
woods. The function of these tools will be described l ater, but they
were mentioned here so as to complete the discussion of the various
sets found in plane irons.
When a plane with the common pitch is used on figured wood it
tends to tear. This is because the iron lifts the more splintery hard
wood instead of cutting it. The torn section of grain is thicker than
the shaving which is supposed to pass through the mouth and this
causes the tool to continu ally choke. Working hardwood with a plane
that has the common pitch is aggravating indeed . The York pitch re
duces this tendency to tear. This is because the action of a steeper
edge approaches that of a scraper. This is a tool that the belt s ander
has destined to ignominy but those who have used one know that it
produces a fine shaving and will not tear even curly maple, one of
the hardest woods to work. An iron with a middle pitch and even
more so a half pitch are in effect scrapers even though they are
pushed not pulled. A cabinetmaker would have more occasion to work
hardwoods than an interior j oiner and would own a smoothing plane
with the middle pitch. This would clean up figured wood without any
fear of damage to the surface.
On the other hand it is equally aggravatin g to use a plane with a
steep pitch on pine . Anyone who has ever tried to run a scraper over
soft wood knows that the edge only pulls up loose fibers rather than a
shaving. The same occurs to the plane iron. Its edge quickly covers
with the short stringy pieces of grain until the tool refuses to cut.
Final clean up of hardwood was traditio nally done with scraper s.
However, after pine had been worked with edge tools, sandpape r, glass
paper, shark skin, pumice and other fine abrasiv es were needed to pre
pare the surfac e to receive a finish. This preparation only removed the
fine fuzz which occurs on soft wood. Tool marks did not need to be
sande d away , becau se on a flat surfac e finish tools such as smoot hing
plane s did not leave any. Tradi tional woodworking has always held
that the best woodw ork was done by cuttin g, not abrad ing. This is a
fact which is often lost on those who use belt sander s in varying grits
of paper to grind wood down to a finish ed surfa ce. Portable sandi ng
Bench Planes 63

machines were originally a short cut for those who ei ther did not c are
or did not know how to obt ;in a finished surface with edge tools.
However, this has spawned a l amentable school of contemporary wood
working. There are those who now glue up hardwood l aminates and
actually sculpt out their creations with automobile body grinders . I t
is fortunate for pre-industrial craftsmen that they were mortal, for if
they had lived to see this I think they would have cursed the blessing
of eternal life.
Planes set with the forty-five degree pitch for softwood are more
common than are those intended for hardwood. This is an advantage
to those who do interior work or those who prefer to build furniture
from pine. However, one who uses hardwoods will want to own bench
planes with both the common pitch and the York pitch. He will also
need a good smoothing plane with the middle pitch. This means that
he will do more looking than his colleagues who work exclusively in
pine. Until his eye develops so that it can quickly identify the various
sets of plane irons he may find it helpful to keep a protractor in his
pocket whenever searching for tools.
Another difference which may result in a bench plane which is
more suitable to a woodworker's personal needs is a feature which is
called a razee. The stocks of most fore , try and j ointer planes are a
uniform thickness from heel to toe. The stock may be mounted with
either an open or closed tote. An open tote looks like the inverted grip
of a pistol while the closed tote is reminiscent of an inverted saw
handle. However, some planes were made so that the stock drops
dramatically just behind the throat. This effect tempts one to think
that the word razee is really a corruption of the word recessed . But
whether or not this is so when the plane is in use, it feels distinctly
different than does another which sports the more common placement
of the tote. It has been claimed that the razee plane was developed
for use in boat building. However, I have questioned numerous boat
builders, some who share an interest for the traditional practice of
their craft and others who do not. N one has ever heard the claim con
cerning the r azee grip, nor has anyone been able to chance a guess as
to why that one particular industry evolved its own form of tote. Still.
there is a definite advantage to the razee grip. When using a more
traditional fore plane the force supplied by the right hand is directed
downward toward the bench at an angle of about thirty degrees which
gives it the dual function of both moving the plane forward and hold
ing the sole tightly against the surface of the wood . However, this is
wasted energy. The left hand ( in the case of a right handed wood
worker ) is perfectly capable of keeping the plane on the stuff. With a
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razee grip the thrust of the right hand is directed squarely behind the
stock. Plus, more force is applied to the purpose of moving the plane
through the wood rather than to holding the two together. This is an
important factor in planing wide boards for floors , sheathing, paneling,
c ase work and most of all in rough smoothing hardwood. All these j obs
tax the elbow. It is a distinct disadvantage to waste almost a third the
thrust created by the woodworker's weary arm.
I propose that the razee grip resulted when some forgotten crafts
man sat down and put his mind to solving the problem of wasted work.
Boat builders needed to rough smooth large quantities of boards, but
no more than did a j oiner who made doors or panelling. Therefore, the
razee grip was probably used throughout the woodworking industry by
any craftsman who felt more comfortable with it, rather than being
limited to one small group. It was a general tool and not a specialized
one.
This development appears to have occured in the 1 9th century.
Most planes that I have seen with a razee grip bearing makers' stamps
were produced by later firms. I cannot recall seeing one that did not
have a double iron, in other words, the chip breaker which will be
discussed later on. The razee grip is most common on fore planes
since these require the most thrust to use. However, I own and use a
live o ak razee try plane which looks like the big brother of my two
fore planes made of the same wood . I also obtain good service from a
beech razee smoothing plane. I do not recall ever seeing a razee
j ointer, but they probably exist.
As was stressed in an earlier chapter, to successfully work wood
with antique tools demands many more skills than a woodworker
normally develops using machines or modern hand implements. This
is especially true with wooden planes. If one works wood for pleasure
and satisfaction , what sense is there in taking the easiest route ? Cer
tainly satisfaction is the result of meeting a challenge and successfully
overcoming it. Antique planes offer plenty of challenges. However,
the fact that they were commonly used by generations of pre-industrial
woodworkers is proof that they can be revived to once again perform
with honor for the spiritual descendents of these ancients. Of course
any attempt by me to explain in a dozen pages all the nuances of
using hand planes would not only be foolish, but it would be im
possible. A woodworker can be told how to hold a plane but there are
dozens of tricks, postures and motions which simply cannot be vocal
ized because they are done unconsciously. One is not even aware of
them. The beginner must practice until these develop as a n atural part
Bench Planes 65
of holding the plane. One can :be told how to adjust a wedge. He could
even be shown photograph s, but he will never know j ust how the iron
should feel when it is in place until he has done it himself a dozen
times.
A non-professional , or even more so, a professional may be fright
ened by the thought of j ack planing a board and the expenditure of
energy and sweat which is necessary. But when he has done it a few
times he will begin to notice similarly tooled surfaces on antiques and
in old houses, even ones that he has lived with all along. He never
noticed these features before because he h ad never used the tools that
made them. He will also understand why so much has been made
about the individuality and desirability of an authentic hand tooled
surface. Incalculable sums of money h ave been spent by the modern
woodworking industry in an attempt to duplicate these features made
by hand tools, skillfully used by h and craftsmen, without even
approaching success. He will learn to appreciate a hand planed sur
face and find i t much more satisfying than the amorphous soft details
that result from reliance on a belt sander. Along with a temporary
tenderness in a few muscles through the arms and shoulders that he
did not even know existed he will begin to develop an understanding
of why the marks of machines on a visible surface are offensive to the
hand workman. But most of all the use of hand planes will make
him feel a oneness of purpose with his tools and an almost mystical
respect for wood ; a material which all at one time is his medium, his
adversary and his companion. He will understand what countless gen
erations of his ancestors knew. There is no other material so fascinat
ing to work.
All these things were known and understood by pre-industrial
woodworkers even though they may not have committed their thoughts
to writing. Anyone who works wood knows that these feelings must
have been a common experience and he shares them with those ven
erable ancients. The modern woodworker will also develop a deep re
spect for wooden planes and will know that they were respected by
early craftsmen. Consider a wood plane : some of the pieces may be
removable but there are no real movable parts. The principals on
which these tools work are the most simple . This is often illustrated
by explaining that a plane is actually no more than a chisel supported
in the cutting position by a wooden frame. Although accurate , this
point of view is really deceptive for there probably was no other tool
in a pre-industr ial woodworker's shop which w as more complex, more
delicate and more precise than his planes. The function of one of these
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tools was dependent on much more than the ability of the owner to
use it. The best planes could only be produced as a result of the associ
ation of the plane maker's craft with a long tradition.
A modern woodworker who has invested in an antique tool the
time and care which is necessary to return it to service will want to
know all he can about what he has has, who made it and who used it.
With this in mind some information about the production of wooden
planes should be included. It has been a persistent belief among people
who collect and perpetuate myths that the men who built our coun
try also insisted on making their own tools. As happens in the case of
myths , some grain of fact is usu ally included. Many of the wooden
planes used by American pre-industrial woodworkers were made by
themselves. However, if we are to believe the stories we would have to
ignore the fact that numerous American plane making concerns
existed and flourished. Several enterprises were in operation during
the 1 8th century. By the mid 1 9th century actual factories cranked out
wooden planes using ( an irony that these men could not have appre
ciated ) the very machinery and assembly line techniques that pu t
wooden plane makers and the pre-industrial woodworkers who were
their customers out of business ! We cannot ignore the tremendous
plane industry which existed in England. Nor can we overlook the fact
that American tool makers attempted through their advertising to over
come the preference of American workmen for English tools. The
existence of many of the Dominy family tools from their shop on Long
Island proves that n ative craftsmen produced some of their own planes
and in some cases maybe even preferred to do this. But if this was
common who meanwhile , was purchasing the planes which were being
produced in native tool makin g enterprises as well as those that were
being imported ? Either these men did not have the time to make their
own tools ; or they did not have the inclination ; or they felt that the
product of a trained plane maker who drew on generations of heritage
and skill was far superior to what they could make for themselves. We
must accept one or all of these answers.
It is often very easy to determine where and when a plane was
made. The easiest way is to check the end grain where the manufac
turer usu ally stamped the name of his firm. This was a very common
practice during the 1 9th century. Since there were as many as eight
times more Americans in 1 850 than there were in 1 800 ( the population
doubled as often as every 25 years ) , there were also many more wood
workers practicing their craft, purchasing new tools and finally upon
their de ath or retirement leaving them for later generations to collect.
Another important fact is that wooden planes wore out. If a craftsman

Bench Planes 67
died in 1 800 possessed of a box of wooden planes these were either

inherited or sold . Either way, they remained in use which greatly dimin
ished their chances for survival. On the other hand , a man who j oined
the woodworking industry in 1 850 might not have died until 1 890. By
that time no one wanted his old wooden planes, so if his tools were not
burned they were much more likely to survive than were those of the
fellow who died nearly a century before. C onsequently , the m ajority of
wooden bench planes available in America today are of native 1 9th
century manufacture. Since most of these planes were marked, a
modern woodworker needs only compare the name on his plane with
some of the check lists of plane makers which have been recently
compiled. However, there are currently some changes taking place in
the market. Thousands of English planes are now being imported, at a
rate which is probably faster than when these tools were still being
manufactured. No onus should be attached to owning and using these
recent arrivals. They were produced by many of the same firms who ex
ported tools to America originally. There is only one difference . For
the last hundred years they have been surrounded by workmen whose
pronunciation of their langu age was a little different from that of
the current owner. However, since this fact does not affect their func
tion I can see no reason why one should prefer American planes to
English. As a matter of fact I own and regularly use a number of
English planes . Many of these originally belonged to an ancestor who
was a Connecticut pattern maker. I assume that he was quite satis
fied with them as they still perform as well as anyone could ask.
Besides the maker's mark, one can often find on the end grain of
a plane either a set of initials or a name. These usually belong to the
craftsman who owned it. If the plane eventu ally passed to the owner
ship of another man he also applied his stamp. The second or third
mark was often used to obliterate the first but was also put on afresh
somewhere else on the tool. I have seen wooden pl anes whose ends
are a mish mash of owner's stamps so crowded and overlapped that it
is nearly impossible to make out any of the names. I own one plane
where a second owner even went so far as to drill out the end grain
where another man's initials had been. He filled the holes with ma
hogany dowels and stamped his own initials on the end grain of these
plugs.
One should not overlook the possibility that one stamp belongs
to the maker, another to the merchant who purchased a lot of planes
and applied his own mark and finally , one or more owners. Usually a
maker or seller could afford to purchase a more elaborate stamp' than
could a common woodworker and this is the key to sometimes deter-
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mining who was who. The practice of marking planes may have de
veloped as a means to avoid the possibility of picking up another man's
tools, or of him picking up one of yours on a crowded work site. How
ever, furniture makers did not usually leave their shops and this ex
planati on fails to satisfy any question as to why they also marked their
planes. When a man is as dependent on his tools as were these e arly
craftsmen he becomes proud of them and will want them to bear his
name. Assumedly the answer why tools were commonly identified by
pre-industrial woodworkers lies somewhere between these two reasons.
The more familiarity the modern woodworker develops with
wooden planes the more easy it will be for him to distinguish a home
made tool produced by a cabinetmaker for his own use , or notice the
difference between 1 8th century and the much more common 1 9th
century factory production. Manufacture on the scale that was
achieved during the mid- 1 800's ( some firms produced more than a
hundred planes a day ) resulted in standardization. This means that
uniformity did not only occur within the products of a single company.
Mid-1 9th century planes look amazingly alike. But this is understand
able when one realizes workmen and foremen moved from employer
to employer disseminating what they had learned like bees pollinating
flowers. A man who had served an apprenticeship with one manufac
turer might even eventually open his own business in competition with
his former master. This is a factor of pre-industrial manufacture which
is either ignored or understated by most people . Young men did not
go to college far away from home to learn a profession and be stimu
lated by new ideas the way we encourage our children today. Instead,
a lad's father found him a position and bound him as an apprentice
to a practicing craftsman. While the boy was still young and impres
sionable "the mysteries of the craft" as they were called were firmly
implanted in his mind. He worked and practiced for as long as seven
years , eventu ally being discharged from his indenture an accomplished
practition er of his chosen craft at a time in his life when 20th century
youngster s are still t{Ying to find themselve s. This method of per
petuatin g a craft was naturally very conserva tive . When grown to be
a man the young apprentice would be very relucta nt to vary from what
had been so deeply ingrai ned as an adoles cent. Appre nticesh ips to
master craftsm en read like geneol ogies and if one could trace the
lineag e of the craft back far enoug h a good visual image of the inter
twinin g herita ge shared by all American and European woodworkers
could be draw n. This is the expla nation why in place s which had al
most no comm unica tion one with anoth er for centur ies, the same
metho ds of j oining , the same woodworking techn iques and the same
Bench Planes 69
heritage pervaded the woodwqrking industry. Th!s is what is meant by

a craft tradition and shows why it was so strong. Not only did it allow
the methodical transfer of knowledge from one generation to the next,
it prevented the wild, erratic and wasteful floundering that modern
craftsmen find themselves doing. Each successive generation was in
stilled with a deep sense of purpose and direction. They did not have to
seek for a way to express themselves. The craft tradition like a wise
and benevolent parent gave that to them as their inheritance .
Like all other crafts, plane making passed on its secrets through
its apprentices to each new generation of plane makers. If the factory
method of production had not been developed, stand ardization probably
would have eventually resulted anyway, simply because so many
craftsmen had worked for so many years with the same small group of
designs that make up American bench planes. When a modern ob
server, whether he is a woodworker, tool collector or dealer examines
enough planes he develops the ability to recognize predictable 1 9th
century shapes. There is reason to suspect that any variation in these
designs evidences manufacture dating from an earlier and somewhat
less organized period of production or that the tool was made by a skilled
woodworker for his own use. Some of the parts and areas of a plane
that should be examined in making the distinction between factory
planes and earlier or home made examples include the tote, the wedge
and the chamfer which decorates and relieves the harsh edges of the
body. No book, unless extensively illustrated with a tremendous quan
tity of close up photographs would ever attempt to impart this knowl
edge. The best way for the modern woodworker to obtain it is to fre
quent every source for old tools and examine every plane he finds .
This advice is sound for another reason . Exposure to this many planes
sharpens the eyes and allows the woodworker to quickly and unhesi
tatingly rej ect the culls which certainly make up the maj ority of planes
offered for sale . The best way to le arn to distinguish qu ality is to ex
amine quantity.
The use of the word quality in this context is somewhat different
from what an antique collector might mean if he refers to a piece of
quality furniture , and therefore the defini.tion must be somewhat quali
fied. In an earlier chapter masterpiece tools were discussed. From an
antique standpoint these are the top qu ality. Finest is a synonym.
However, no matter how fine a tool may have been originally it is not
a quality tool unless it can be of service to the woodworker. Wooden
bench planes are a fine example of this problem . Since these tools ex
perienced every kind of deprivation imaginable after they fell into
disuse only a small fraction of them are worth returning to active
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duty. The first point to consider before purchasing a wooden bench

plane is the condition of the body or stock. Any other part c an be re
p aired, replaced or duplicated. Since the plane body is in essence the
plane it must be sound. As the series of photographs of a fore plane
being restored illustrates, a woodworker could conceivably find just
the stock, and if it pleased him enough he could easily restore the tool
to a serviceable condition . However, before progressing to the ailments
that usually afflict a wooden bench plane , some mention should be
made of the raw materials from which they were formed. American
beech, the species known as fagus grandifolia, was the preferred wood
used by American plane makers. This is because the wood is highly
shock resistant, even though difficult to work because of its extreme
hardness. However, it takes on a high polish when used and results in
a very pleasing glassy surface. Plane makers often advertised that
they used only the best quality second growth beech.
Modern woodworkers who begrudge the time that they are forced
to spend seeking good quality stuff will probably be interested in this
historical aside . Not more than a decade after the American Revolution
the once seemingly unlimited forests were so depleted around popula
tion centers that good timber was no longer available . Woodworkers
sought to increase their wages and this is one of the reasons they gave .
It was more difficult to work the lesser grades of wood available to
them and in recompense for the increased work they felt themselves
entitled to an increase in pay. By the second quarter of the 1 9th cen
tury wood was so scarce that there actually was a fuel shortage in
New England where residents burned wood for fuel. Considering this
situation one wonders what 1 9th century woodworkers thought about
the quality of the wood they were forced to work. Certainly, they could
appreciate the difficulties a plane manufactur er experienced in obtain
ing the best quality timber available. And if he was claiming to produce
the best planes that money could buy these woodworkers were as
sumedly grateful for his efforts in their behalf.
Some plane makers advertis ed that they split their timber in
stead of having it ripped into plank at the mill. This process of split
ting wood , called riving, is unfamil iar to modern woodworkers. How
ever, its use was once widespread. Since splittin g follows the grain the
plane maker was assured that the wood he was using was free of any
defect s such as enc ased knots or a wavy figure. The wood used to
make planes had to have a grain that was perfectly straigh t so that the
tool would not be incline d to warp or experience any other dimens ional
chang e. A sawyer obtain s the most stable boards by quarter sawin g.
Howev er, since plane makers needed only short length s of beech or
Bench Planes 71
other suitable hardwood they s;ould in effect quarter saw their stock by
riving it. This was done by splitting a section af log into pie shaped
wedges. The smaller the wedge in proportion to the original diameter
of the log the more stable the wood. Another considerati on is that these
absolutely perfect sections of hardwood m ade i t e asier to produce a
plane using only hand tools.
Beech was not the only wood u sed to make bench planes. Birch
and maple stocks are also regularly found. Plane makers referred to
tools made with these woods as their common bench planes. And one
is led to assume that there must have been a line of merchandise
which was not so common. A visit to a good tool dealer's shop will
help the modern reader to quickly determine what these superior
quality planes were . Some specie s of imported lumber rendered a wood
that was better than what could be obtained from native varieties. The
most common were live oak and lignum vitae. Live oak is an American
tree which grows in the southeastern coastal plain . Its grain is dense
and one is amazed at how a wood can be so tightly interwoven. It re
minds one of elm burl. A live oak plane is much more resistant to wear
than even beech. Lignum vitae is a tropical vine whose wood is so
dense it actually will not tloat. It has a waxy feel which plane makers,
and apparently their customers, felt lubricated the passage of the
plane's sole over a working surface , thus reducing wear. A partial list
of other woods that were used to make planes would include satin
wood , boxwood, ebony , rosewood , maple , hornbeam , birch , and black
cherry. I even own a compass plane made of white ash.
No matter how exotic the wood used to make the stock of a bench
plane, if it is not sound the tool is a poor investment for someone who
hopes to eventually use it. Most planes appear to h ave been stored in
either attics , cellars or barns. If the tool was kept in a dry place the
oil and natural moisture eventu ally evaporated away. This caused the
plane to develop checks in the end grain . The dry wood takes on a
dull grey color and when hefted the plane feels grossly underweight.
If the checks have opened to a point that they will not close when the
moisture content of the plane is once again balanced , or if they
threaten to allow the stock to split in pieces if used, the plane must be
passed by . Wooden planes that have been stored in a cellar often have
the opposite difficulty : too much moisture. Dry rot or even boring in
sects attack the wood . Any punky area in the stock of a plane should
be cause for the woodworker to put it down immediately for it can
never be restored. Perhaps if it is still possessed of its iron and the
price is low enough it should be bought for the sake of the blade alone.
Spare cutters are always necessary in reconditioning old planes.
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Other problems that resulted in irreparable damage to bench

planes were caused by the dubbers who used hammers instead of
wooden mallets to loosen irons and who did not know how to tap
gently. In order to loosen the wedge of a plane it is necessary to strike
the heel of the stock behind the tote. The same results can be obtained
by striking the stock just in front of the throat. However, this is defi
nitely the least preferable of the two methods. Some planes are
equipped with a strike point in either of these two places. This point is
usually a hardwood plug inserted so the end grain is directly upward.
Occasionally it c an be iron , and even ivory or bone. The purpose of the
strike point is to absorb the rap of the mallet while still allowing the
shock to loosen the wedge. Whether or not a plane is equipped with a
strike point i t can never stand up under the blows of a hammer. But
the descendents of pre-industrial woodworkers did not always know
this. The battering that they gave some planes has literally knocked
them apart. It is a good idea for a woodworker to examine the heel and
toe of a plane before buying. There will normally be a number of
dents caused by the mallet, but the end grain will remain solid on a
good tool. The plane which was selected to be restored in illustrating
this chapter is an example of what happens when the front of the stock
is struck instead of the heel. End grain is much more durable than
long grain. The constant use of this point has worn a depression in the
stock, reducing the plane's value.
The wedge of a plane should be driven no harder than is neces
sary to keep the iron in position, as the pressure exerted by the legs
will crush the abutments. Any more force will cause the cheeks of the
plane to fracture usually in a line that corresponds to the angle of the
bed. Such a break was often worsened by the nails, screws and old
glue that were used in an attempt to keep the wood together. Sinc(;
there is no way to repair such a break, a plane in this condition is not
worth concerning oneself with.
In summary the only bench plane which a woodworker should
consider for purchase is one whose stock remains sound and free of
any defects. Obviously, there exist matters of degree. Checks in the
end grain need not ruin a plane although they will detract from its
appearance. If the cracks do not threaten to split the plane clear to
the throat and if the tool is an exceptional example at a reasonable
cost, it m ay be worth buying. Once again , experience is the best guide
and experience can only be obtained by handling and examining hun
dreds of planes.
Assuming the woodworker has purchased a satisfactory bench
plane the next task that faces him is to recondition it. In order to
Bench Planes 73
illustrate this section of the c apter as completely as possible I sought

out the most disreputable looking plane I could . I finally found it in a
small shop in southern Maine . I t was a fore plane whose tote had been
knocked off and whose wedge was broken. Although the iron was
present it had long since been ground beyond the point that it was
useful. The tool had apparently been stored in a barn as it was grey,
covered with dust and completely dried out. Some large but not danger
ous check cracks had opened in the end grain. Its sole was worn way
out of true and the mouth was so wide that the plane would have torn
even the best of stuff. The tool was manufactured in the mid- 1 9 th
century in Ringsville , Massachusetts, a small h amlet j u s t west of
Northampton in the factory of E. C . Rings. I t had been owned by
H . Cate and he branded his stamp on both ends. I t is tempting to think
that this might have been the elusive H . C ate who made a number of
signed pieces of furniture, including a set of chairs now in the col
lection of Old Sturbridge Village. He was thought to have worked in
Connecticut but researchers have not yet located him for sure. I doubt
the plane was owned by the same H . C ate . The furniture in question
appears to h ave been made during the first q u arter of the 1 9th cen
tury and H . C ate would have been an old man by the time the plane
was manufacture d. However, this is j ust a matter of curiosity. What is
important is the fact that the plane suffered from every ailment which
This neglected and abused fore plane was made in Ringsville, M assachu
setts. I t was selected to illustrate this chapter because it suffered from
every affliction that such a tool could conceivably experience without being
rendered beyond restoration. I ts tote has been snapped off. I ts wedge has
a broken leg and its iron has been ground back until there is almost n o
steel remainin g. The stock is very dry and its finish has turned a sickly
grey. Although the modern woodworker will not want to buy planes in this
condition, if any he does purchase suffer from these ailments they should
be corrected in the manner illustrated.
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, , .

-

" .
Left: Properly forming a new wedge demands the restorer's attention.

Its legs must fit tightly and evenly against the abutments. The taper
should be achieved before the blank is sawn out. Right: Once the legs have
been cut out a steeper inclined plane is chiseled between them to assist
the shaving in finding its way out of the throat.
could afflict such a tool without its being battered beyond all help.
Any bench plane, whether a fore, trying , j ointer or smoothing plane
which experiences any of these problems should be aided in the same
way.
The first step in reconditioning Mr. C ate's fore plane is to make a
replacement wedge. Since the original was present , although broken,
,
there was no problem to determine the proper shape . However, 1 9th

century designs were so standardized that anyone who needs to re
place a missing part can reasonably assume that it looked very much
like one from any similar plane. A woodworker might not want to
involve himself with this matter. For him it is much more important
that the wedge do its job. However, I do feel some concern for the
antique value of a plane and its importance as an artifact and a new
part that is accurately shaped adds to both. Also, if a job is worth
doing it is worth doing right.
Bench Planes 75
The critical aspect of making a wedge is to be sure that i t fits

properly. A wedge has two leg which taper at the same angle as do the
bed of the throat and the abutments which hold it in place. I t is
essential that when the iron is in place these two legs fit snugly along
their entire length. If they do not the iron will chatter. As i t is pushed
through the wood and cuts the chip any high spot on the legs of the
wedge will act as a pivot point and allow the iron to rock in its bed .
If the angle of the legs is steeper than the throat the abutments will
only grip them at the top. Not only will the blade chatter, the pressure
exerted by the wedge in trying to hold the iron will break off the tops
of the abutments. Consequently I cannot stress too strongly the need
to fit the wedge properly. The results are well worth the effort. It is
best to first saw out a blank which is the same width as the throat and
roughly as long and as thick as the finished wedge will be. If this is
done first it is easier to form the taper correctly. Also, if you misjudge
and h ave to throw away the first attempt no time consuming finish
work was wasted.
With the iron in place the wedge should fit tightly along the
abutments. :Now the legs c an be sawn out with a coping saw. Another
steeper inclined plane is formed between the legs to allow the chip to
discharge more freely and prevent choking. After this is done the
typical coffin shape can be given to the top of the wedge. A slight
chamfer should be made on all visible corners, as this was customary.
The completed wedge can then be s anded with finish paper to soften
all its surfaces. This simulates the wear it would normally receive in
a lifetime of service. As the wooden wedge begins to d arken , this
artificial wear will help disguise the fact that it is a replacement.
The wedge is now laid aside and our attention is directed toward
making a new tote. This is a simple task for an experienced wood
worker. My tote was copied from a look alike fore plane lent to me by
a friend. His plane was m ade in Amherst, M assachusetts j ust a stone's
throw from Ringsville. There was apparently some difference of
opinion among plane makers as to how the grain in an open tote
should run. Some preferred it to run through the tote or horizontally
to the stock. Others placed it vertically. I share the latter point of view.
Obviously, Mr. Rings did not agree, although if he had the tote on his
plane might not have broken along the short length of grain that
makes up its cross section. Out of respect for the plane as an antique
we placed the grain in the same direction as i t was originally. Because
of the shrinkage that occurs seasonally in a piece of wood the tote
often loosened. This occurred at some point to our fore plane , - and
someone who h ad apparently never heard of glue had driven n ails into
the j oint to act as shims. In order to avoid the s ame problem in the
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\ , ,
Left: The tote is missing and its form is a matter of conjecture. However,
most nineteenth century planes were very similar. The new tote was
copied from that on a tool made in Amherst, Massachusetts by one of
Rings' competitors. Most likely it looks just like the broken original.
Right: The mouth of the fore plane h as opened with use and must be
closed. A patch will be fitted into the shallow inlet that is being made
just in front of the orifice. Its shape is laid out with a scribe and then
started with a sharp back saw.
future the woodworker who needs to replace the tote of a plane will
want the j oint to fit tightly and w ant to glue it when it is formed for
the final time.
Our next concern is the mouth of the plane which is much too
open to be of service. The mouth, which is the opening in the sole just
in front of the blade , should be no wider than the thickest curl which
will h ave to pass throught it. If it is the chip will not be forced to curl
up through the throat, but will lift in front of the iron. This lifting
action will allow the grain to tear instead of forcing it to be shaved from
the surface of the board. The more curly or figured the grain that is
being planed the more critical this becomes. If the tool is a trying
plane, j ointer or smoothing plane this distance must allow no more
than a sheet of paper to pass. If the blade of a j ack knife will fit
Bench Planes 77
between the blade and the stoc;k of one of these panes it is too wide for
difficult work. Of course , a fore plane needs to allow a very wide chip
to pass and will choke if the mouth is too n arrow.
The way to close a mouth is to fit a patch in it. This is done by
chiseling a wide shallow morti ce in the sole of the plane j ust in front
of the orifice A wooden patch is glued in place and m akes up for the
wood which was worn away during e arlier use. I find it is best to
close the mouth completely. Any excess patch can be removed but if
too little is installed in the first place the j ob has to be repeated. A
patched mouth is opened a bit at a time until the proper dist ance ( de
pending on the type of plane ) is achieved between the iron and the
sole.
Now that the mouth is closed the sole needs to be trued. Unlike
iron, wood will wear considerably with use. I have seen some fore
planes which have lost as much as a half inch off the sole. It is
obvious how the plane in the photograph has worn . Its stock was
once a uniform thickness from toe to heel, but due to wear in the
sole before the mouth , it has assumed a distinct wedge shape . This is
understandable since the user tends to lean on the fron t of the plane
with his left hand in order to hold it tightly on the face of the board.
This motion will cause the front of the plane to wear more quickly.
The rate at which a plane's sole wears out of true can be reduced
considerably by a simple application of wax. This lubricant not only
Left: The wooden patch is glued in place and the unit is set aside while
the adhesive dries. Notice that no concern is given to the amount of excess.
It will be quickly removed with a gouge.
Right: Before proceeding the p atch is chiseled flush with the plane's sole.
This view shows how uneven the bottom has become. Notice that the
mouth is now completely closed .
..
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spares the plane , but the tool's passage over the face of the board
is made much easier and consequently less force is required to push it.
A candle nub is a handy source of wax and any woodworker using a
wooden soled plane should have one on hand. However, I have dis
covered that the paraffin used for sealing j ams and jellies in home
canning is much softer and easier to apply. First , I melt i t into blocks
and dip in a loop of twine while it is still in its liquid state. When
i t hardens the string allows me to hang he wax in a handy location
over the work bench. The friction that results from the action of an
unwaxed plane on a board's surface creates considerable heat. This
releases a tell tale odor which to me smells like toasted bread with
honey on it. The aroma acts as a warning signal that the wax has worn
away and another application is in order. If Mr. C ate's foreplane
h ad been made in the 1 8th century or early 1 9th it probably
would have had a slightly rounded sole . If so, the restorer might
wish to duplicate this feature. But since Rings was working after
the square-sole fore plane had evolved we retain his original design.
Any bench plane will wear so that the sole is actually racked. Consider
how one would hold the tool while working. The front right and the
left rear corners will wear most quickly. Usually there is considerable
friction just in front of the mouth and a slight depression will also
wear in the sole at that point. All of this adds up to a bench plane that
is not going to produce the best results.
The sole must be restored to a plane surface and this is achieved
by planing it. This can be done in either of two w ays. A mechanical
j ointer is the quickest, but not everybody has access to one and many
woodworkers mistrust them. Still, they efficiently and assuredly restore
the sole of a wooden plane. The beech stock is considerably more
dense than the pine that most woodworkers run over a jointer. This
means that the blade of the machine must be set so as to remove the
finest of shavings. Otherwise the stock will be knocked about danger
ously. Several passes are required. As the high spots are removed the
exposed wood is quite light in comparison. The depressions will appear
as darker patches. Until the sole is all one color the plane is still out of
true .
The method I prefer is the one used to restore the fore plane in
the photographs. My j ointer apparently escaped the heroic service that
was normally demanded by woodworkers of their wooden bench
planes. Its sole and mouth are very near their original condition.
Knowing that this plane is true I clamp it upside down in a vise and
run the smaller plane over it. This is not my ide a at all. Coopers have
used a special type of long j ointer in this manner for centuries. How
ever, no matter how old the technique may be it still works today as

\,

The sole is trued by running i t

over the jointer. H. Cate m ade
the same correction several
times. This, coupled with the
friction that results from use,
has left the stock slightly wedge

...
shaped .
well as ever. The same dark and light areas appear on the sole of a
plane treated this w ay as they do with a mechanical j ointer. Until a
uniform color is obtained on the sole the plane is not ready for use.
Now that the wedge and tote have been replaced, the mouth
closed and the sole made true our attention can be turned to the
blade, also called the cutter, knife or more commonly the iron. The
original was apparently supplied to Rings' factory by the Providence
Tool Company , an enterprise that had been established in the same
city in Rhode Island. Tool makers very often imported English blades.
In fact, one may gather from 1 9 th century advertisements that wood
workers were actually prej udiced against American steel. Considerable
effort and advertising money was spent convincing these men that
English quality could be duplicated at home. Mr. Rings seems to have
felt that this was so. However, the iron that was with the plane had
been ground back almost to the slot for the chip breaker screw and so
litle steel remained that it was retired. Coincidentally , in my tool box
I had a spare Providence Tool Company iron of the same size which
was even decorated with the same unusual cut out corners. It had
sufficient life remaining to make a convex fore plane iron.
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Some interesting details about plane irons should be mentioned

During the 1 9th century almost all bench plane blades were accom
panied by a c ap referred to as a chip breaker. For this reason they were
called a double iron. This device was developed during the final decades
of the preceding century and was readily accepted by woodworkers.
Its function is to stiffen the iron and reduce chatter. Also, it forces the
chip to curl which reduces the tendency of the shaving to lift in front
of the iron. Considering the increasingly poor quality stuff that
American and English woodworkers were forced to use it is easy to
understand why this device would be readily accepted by a normally
conservative industry. The chip breaker enabled joiners to smooth
even irregular grains without making tears in the wood's surface.
To be properly used the chip breaker should be set close to the
sharpened edge of the iron. This distance should be less than an eighth
of an inch. When its set screw is tightened the c ap gives the plane
blade a slight cup which helps keep it stiff even against the resistance
of very hard wood. Any plane which was originally equipped with this
type of iron had to h ave some accommodation for the protruding
screw. Usually a corresponding groove is cut into the bed of the plane.
On other planes the groove is in the back of the wedge. The former
method is by far the most common.
It was mentioned in an earlier chapter that steel was an expensive
commodity and was used sparingly by tool producers. Most edge tool
makers forge welded a strip of steel to an iron blade using a scarved
j oint. This means that a thin strip of steel was welded by a blacksmith
into a wide shallow rebate on the upper face of the iron. This weld is
usually visible if the blade is examined c arefully. Often the steel has
retained more of a sheen than the surrounding wrought iron. When
the scarved weld was made the steel usually extended only a slight
distance beyond the slot for the chip breaker. In this manner the frugal
woodworker could use the steel right down to the limit. Even so, the
amount of steel that was welded on would normally last a lifetime.
Because of the manner in which the steel w as welded to the iron an
antique plane blade made in this fashion has an up and down side.
To make the mistake of reversing it would mean that the cutting edge
would only be made of soft iron. This will never work satisfacto rily.
Most often the bezel is already ground on an iron and one need not
be concern ed whethe r the plane blade is upside right or not. But just
in c ase, the maker's stamp is usually on the up side.
The vigorou s relianc e of modern woodworkers on the grinding
wheel is the reason that many plane irons have been expend ed. Pre.
industrial craftsm en made sparing use of the grindsto ne. It remove s
metal too quickly and severely limits the life span of steel edged tools.

The steel that was scarve welded onto

these two antique plane irons is quickly
detected. It retains a sheen while the
wrought iron has turned its characteristic
black. If the blades are treated properly
enough steel remains on both of them to
supply at least a couple more lifetimes of
use. The right h and cutter is referred to
as a double iron. The slot cut through its
center is for the cap or chip breaker.
The method that they used is c alled hollow grinding. The arc of the
stone was used to created a slightly hollowed bezel, which is remi
niscent of the shape of the point of an old fountain pen. In this w ay the
angle of the bezel was actually more acute than if i t was straight. Since
the bezel with the steepest pitch is the sharpes t this was found to be
preferable. Of course, a steep pitch made the edge more fragile and
some intermediate had to be found . When the razor edge began to drag
it could be quickly restored by honing with a turkey stone, as hones
were called. By hollow grinding their plane irons m any subsequent
sharpenings could be obtained before the bezel was again worn
straight and needed to be reground . This method differs considerably
from most electric sharpening systems available today. Anyone using
antique edge tools should not rely on any of these high speed devices
as they quickly devour whatever is applied to them. There is a finite
supply of antique irons but there should be plenty to go around for
several generations if all of us who use them do so properly. However,
knowing that in the past many dubbers did not, the modern wood
worker should always examine he plane's iron before purchasing the
tool. An expended blade is a good reason to ask the dealer to reconsider
his price and perhaps lower it.
As often occurs, especially if a plane has been stored in a damp
location , the iron has rusted. If this is j ust surface rust, it c an be re
moved with steel wool, a fine finish paper or a mild buffing. However,
more often than I care to remember the rust on the irons of planes I
have bought h ad actually pitted the steel. In such a c ase when the
edge is ground and honed the tiny pits appear as serrations or nicks .
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When used these nicks disfigure the work. They must be removed or
the iron replaced. Since finding a replacement blade is more easily
suggested than done , reconditioning is the only practical answer. The
pits must be removed from the steel. If they are shallow enough they
c an be buffed away with emery cloth. However, be careful not to round
the back side of the edge since this interferes with the tool's action
when in use. I t amounts to the same as honing the back of the iron.
Deep pits must be surface ground. This is difficult unless one has
access to a machine shop. I find the best tool available to me is a slow
sandstone wet wheel. The broad surface makes i t e asier to avoid
gouging the steel as occurs with a fast wheel. This gouging is as b ad
for the tool as the pitting.
B efore the iron is set in place the mouth must be reopened. This is done
gradually since the width of the orifice is critical. It must not be any
wider than the heaviest shaving it will allow to pass. Contrast the sole
with the way it appeared before being trued. The marks about two inches
behind the mouth are worm tunnels made by boring insects who resided
in the stock for a short while. However, their tenure was not so long that
the wood is riddled, and the tunnels are of no consequence. Should a wood
worker find a plane that is peppered with entrance and exit holes he should
put it down without hesitation. Using such a plane would be like working
with a sponge.
Stripping the plane of its grey
finish will do a lot for its ap
pearance. Collectors prefer to own
tools that retain their original
finish. However, the stock of a
wooden plane needs to be fed
periodically with linseed oil. Old
finish impedes the absorption of
the oil and should be removed .
A few years of use will build up
another layer that is indistinguish
able from the first.
Bench Planes 83

The fore plane is now ready for use. All the restoration that was
necessary has been done. However, the plane still retains the unattrac
tive grey weathered surface that was on i t when found. I t is mottled
by the brittle remains of its old darkened finish. It is really quite
unattractive. Cleaning planes is very easy. Dirt and old finish surrender
very quickly to commercial paint remover. This is brushed on and let
to set and then what has softened is scrubbed away with fine steel
wool. This process will restore a recognizable brown wood patina to
even a weathered plane such as this. The restorer need only be careful
to thoroughly clean out any stripper and transported grime that may
have flowed into the throat. If the wedge and iron are tapped into
place while this gunk is still in a liquid state it will solidify and hold
the wedge as tenaciously as if it were glued. In this case it will be very
difficult to loosen the iron.
Some collectors and dealers feel that a plane should not be
stripped but should be allowed to retain its original patina. They will
no doubt be horrified by my suggestions. When it comes to the subject
of antique furniture I will agree that old finish should be allowed to
remain. However, a plane is an instrument and has a function . An old
weathered plane must receive oil to keep the wood sound . It cannot be
used otherwise. Also, when planes were stored and abused by the
descendents of their original owners they were often left where they

were spattered by paint , grease and anything else that stained. A man
who is proud of his tools will not want them to look like something the
cat dragged in. When he removes old finish and drips of paint he is not
removing wood patina. He is simply making the plane appear as it did
during its first period of use. Then , it would h ave been clean and
smooth, glistening from the polishing from a life time of service.
Stripping a plane will make it appear lighter in color than when first
found. But shortly after it is put b ack to its intended purpose and
held once again in a craftsman's h ands the new oil will darken in a
manner that is more honest and worthy than was gathering grime in
a barn.
Pre-industrial woodworkers regularly wiped linseed oil onto the
wooden parts of their tools. Oil protects a plane and keeps it from
becoming brittle. It also prevents sudden changes in moisture content.
This is important as the stock will normally respond quickly to the
changes of humidity in the atmosphe re. Boiled linseed oil is still a very
acceptable finish. If it is wiped on and allowed to soak for an hour i t
will protect bench planes as well as ever. A w ad of absorbent cloth
can be soaked in oil and stuffed in the plane's throat. This revitalizes
the end grain which is expose d in this orifice .
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, ..
.. ,,""'-
Oiled and reassembled, Mr. Cate's

fore plane performs with honor.
If the plane is very dry it will quickly absorb any oil rubbed onto
the end grain. If a recently purchased plane is this thirsty I set it on
end in a container of linseed oil and drape an oil soaked rag over the
other end. Every several hours I reverse the plane so that each end has
a chance to be submerged. I do this until a film of oil wiped onto the
end grain dues not quickly soak in. I also find that this closes smaller
check cracks. If a plane has several large checks I use one other tech
nique before sealing the plane with oil. I set it in my steam box for
about ten minutes. The hot moisture saturated air returns water to the
plane to replace what the neglect of earlier owners has allowed to
evaporate. When the checks have pulled back together I begin the oiling
process just described .
The poor old battered fore plane now looks as well as it ever will.
One might even doubt it was the same plane I purchased the morning
before the photographs were taken. Just to show that the work was
worth the while and not cosmetic it was run over a piece of rough
sawn pine and i t performed as well as it ever did for H . C ate. I will
retire the plane because I am like most woodworkers and am proud of
my tools. I enjoy working with the best looking examples I can afford.
However, if the venerable old plane were to remain in use an
occasional honing, a quick application of wax to its sole and a drink
of linseed oil would be all it would ask in exchange for its service.
The fore plane was posed for this

portrait. Like the heroine of Pyg
m alion it has been transformed
from disreputable to respectable.
The new parts are apparent bu t
they will darken quickly.

ou In an e s
For nearly as long as Man has been making furniture and building
houses he has been aware that either a simple case piece or an
elementary rectangular room can be transformed into an eye c atching
display of elegance and grandeur by applying mouldings. These decora
tive wooden bands most of which are identified by unfamiliar Latin
names , are often what make the difference between only a dwelling
and a mansion, or a chest of drawers and a masterpiece. Mouldings are
so inseparable from woodworking that it is unimaginable that anyone
could build either furniture or homes without them. Periodically , some
supposedly revolutionary designer, or even a whole school of them,
will seek to restore integrity to woodworking by espousing a "return
to basics." Their euphemisms usually mean eliminating mouldings and
working with simple geometric shapes. However, the limited success
of such attempts always results in a backlash and a resurgence of
elaboration. Regardless of Shakers, primitives , and designers, human
beings do not want to be simple. As long as Man has been engaging
in the pursuit of the non-academic arts, the artisan has sought to
make the finest, the grandest article he could. And his patrons have
always desired to possess the most magnificent, impressive works they
were able to afford. In either furniture or house construction the all
important difference is most oftEn mouldings.
With these thoughts in mind one is not surprised to find many
moulding planes listed in even the e arliest recorded estate inventories
of deceased woodworkers. In fact, during his most productive and suc
cessful years a good j oiner often possessed enough moulding planes to
85
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fill several chests. Such a craftsman , working for patrons who could
afford his skills, might have owned nearly a hundred planes. One may
be pressed to imagine where and how such a number of tools could be
used. However, a close examination of an early American home sup
plies the answer. The building that is selected should be an elaborate
one, since the original owner would have employed the best workmen
he could afford. Such a building would have been distinguished even
then as a "mansion house" as opposed to a "dwelling house". In the m an
sion different mouldings were used in every room to make door and win
dow architraves, cornices, chair rails and bolections. Joiners were very
proud that they were able to do such a diversification of work. They
even published manuals within their own companies ( a mu tual protec
tion and benevolent society reminiscent of the ancient guilds ) that
displayed the various window, door and chimney breast treatments
they could do. The success of these elaborations depended on moulding
planes and any joiner was handicapped if he did not possess the host
of these tools that was nece ssary.
Before progre ssing it is best to eliminate a quantity of other tools
that the market place generally lumps together. Perhaps the most
abused and misunderstood term in the trade of buying and selling
antique tools is the loose grouping referred to by nearly everyone as
"moulding planes". Unless the function of a tool is to produce a
decorative strip of wood that is applied to other woodwork or which
is simply formed on the edge of a board , it is not a moulding plane .
However, there are a quantity of special purpose planes whose uses
were so integral to furniture and house construction that they
appeared in every tool box. Many of these have a body or stock which
is shaped similarly to most moulding planes. If a collector or modern
woodworker asks a dealer to see any moulding planes which might be
on hand, many of these special purpose planes will be included. This
is fine , but for the purposes of this book an entire chapter has been
set aside to discuss special purpose planes, and they are being elimi
nated here.
The forms they produce roughly group moulding planes into three
classifications : shaping, simple and complex. Of the three categories
the shaping planes are the least complicated, but were needed by
every cabinetmaker and joiner. Simple moulding planes are tools
which form only one basic shape. As might be expected the complex
planes are those which produce at any one time a combination of two
or more of the simple forms.
Nearly every woodworker from the most basic to the most accom
plished was reliant on moulding planes which fit into one of these

Moulding Planes 87
three groups. The difference lis in the number of tools they needed.
; .
Although the urban master j oiner would own graduated sets of every
shape he required, the country woodworker could get by with only a
handful. In fact, estate inventories of e arly American farmers made
shortly after their deaths show that even they often owned several of
the most basic moulding planes. Assumedly, these were used in making
the wooden articles the farmer himself produced for home use . Even
on this most elementary level of production, early Americans sought to
elaborate the common wooden objects that surrounded them. The
people who collect primitives under the pretext that they absolutely
adore their simplicity fail to realize that the qualiy they so cherish was
not so much the wish of the object's maker to be b asic as it was the
failure of his attempt to be elaborate. Everyone, even on the lowest
level of society, sought to make his handicrafts more grand in their
concept. Fascination with all that is base in our heritage is a modern
phenomenon and one m ay hope that i t will not last. While i t is im
portant that primitives be preserved as artifacts, they seldom h ave any
merit and there is no reason why one should gush over them.
I t is ironic that the moulding planes most likely to have been
owned by the men who made primitives and simple furniture were the
same shapes on which cabinetmakers and j oiners were so heavily
dependent. These are the shaping planes, known as hollows and
rounds. They are so named for the outline of their soles. A hollow is
concave while the round is convex. This may be confusing for the
uninitiated since one would expect the tool to be called by the form it
makes and not by its own shape. These planes were available in
graduated sets as were those which produced most other standard
mouldings. The complete range would include anywhere from sixteen
to twenty four planes in a progression that increased by q u arters of
an inch. Of course, the number of planes required to make up the set
is deceiving for hollows and rounds were produced in pairs. An accom
plished woodworker would need from eight to twelve different sizes ,
each hollow accompanied by the concommitant round.
Moulding planes are the most intricate tools found in a wood
worker's box. Normally, e ach had a fence which held it squ arely against
the edge of the board and a stop which terminated the cutting action
when the plane reached a predetermined depth. These two features
allowed a woodworker to run off an unlimited series of mouldings
which when butted together were identical. However, hollows and
rounds l ack both a fence and stop. Not only is there no mechanism to
-
prevent the tool from wandering as it will , there is no w ay to limit how

deep i t will cut. They are very uncomplicated tools. Examining them
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through the eyes of a modern woodworker one would be tempted to

assume that these planes were of little consequence.
Because of this deceptive appearan ce one would assume that
these would be limited in usefulness to only the least accomplished of
woodwor kers. Consequ ently, the reason why the most sophistic ated of
pre-indus trial joiners and cabinetm akers were as dependen t on hollows
and rounds as were their lesser colleagues is an irony which must be
explained. One who is not acquainted with the masterpieces produced
in America during the Age of Cabinetmakers is prone to smile in
dulgently when this furniture is referred to as sculpture. After all,
everyone has seen the Early American , Colonial, and Traditional
furniture spit out by modern factories. Our decorators stress that the
thick dark pine or genuine rock maple is so simple it is actually
elegant. Everyone knows that early Americans were simple. They sat
in ladder-back chairs, slept on cannon ball beds with rope mattresses
and lived in lug cabins. They were lovable, quaint bumpkins in buck
skin. Decorators, furniture manufacturers , people who make fake barn
boards and everyone else in between thrives on this popular misconcep
tion. However, if everyone who lingers under it would examine one
mahogany block front case piece made by the Godd ard-Townsend
school of cabinetmakers this false impression would be banished.
In early America the best furniture was truly sculpture. This is
the function it served for a practical but extremely sophisticated
people. It was a three dimensional art form which besides taking up
space invited the viewer to examine it critically. But it w as sculpture
for another reason. The cabinetmaker who produced it was himself a
sculptor. If a furniture factory is so ambitious as to attempt a cabriole
leg with a claw and ball foo t ; a broken pediment with a flame finial
mounted on the plinth ; or even something as simple as a well saddled
Windsor chair seat it proceeds thusly : First, the detail is simplified , or
"stylized", as it would be put. This is because the magnificent original ,
sculpted out of solid wood by a pre-industrial craftsman, would be too
complex. Second, a series of jigs would be set up so that an identical
series of the same feature could be cut out on band saws, moulded on
shapers, carved with routers and templates and finally, abraded smooth
on sanders. But the ancient cabinetmak er was not fettered by the
limitation s of machines . He could be as bold as he desired. He was only
inhibited by his patron's pocketbo ok, and to a princely merchan t for
whom money was no object the abilities of the master cabinet maker
were unbound ed. He literally sculpted cabriole legs, serpentin e drawers,
bombe chests and numero us other motives , equally bold, out of solid
wood.
Moulding Planes 89
'
This is perhaps the greatest difference between modern wood
workers and their ancestors. Pre industrial craftsmen sculpted a three
dimensional form while we machine it. They worked the wood, while
we attack it. But they were not sculptors in the same sense as the
artist who chisels his creations out of marble. Their medium had grain
which needed to be shaved not chipped. For the purpose of sculpting
any free-form three dimensional detail these craftsmen owned nume
rous shaving tools, among them their hollows and rounds. This is why
these planes did not need fences and stops. They were primarily used
for sculpting. They made mouldings and an infinite number of details
which might otherwise be too short, too deep or too large for a crafts
man's planes. In other words, a cabinetmaker or j oiner used mould
ing planes for producing decorative bands which were constantly
identical. These tools were necessities , but were often too mechanical.
Sculpting ambitious and elaborate work meant that he needed shaving
tools which would not bind him to a predetermined shape. He must
have the freedom to round or exc avate at will. A good example of this
might be a reeded bed post of the type associated with the Sheraton
furniture style. The reeds are formed over the length of a large vase
shaped turning. As they pass over the thickest section of this vase
they widen and then, gradu ally diminish as they extend toward the top
of the post . A carving chisel would be difficult to control and one must
worry about its propensity to follow an errant grain. However, the
hollow plane has a sole which rides between the reeds reducing the
possibility of wandering, and since it shaves it will not dig. A number
of different size planes will accommodate the reed whose width
grows and gradu ally diminishes.
Consider how difficult it would be to do any but the shortest flutes
( the opposite of a reed ) or even more so, stop flutes with a carving
gouge. But if one has access to a set of hollows and rounds he c an
produce both details. In the latter case a round controls the excavation
of each flute and when the stop turns into a reed it is formed with a
hollow. Of course , these moulding planes are not able to do all the
work. Some clean up, especially in the beginning and end of each
detail will have to be carved.
The less accomplished craftsman did less of this type of work and
the number of hollows and rounds in his tool box would have corre
sponded to his dependence on them. Still , it would not be accurate to
say that because the maker of simple furniture did almost no sculpting
he did not need shaping planes. Since one of these workmen was
seldom abfe to make a living by constructing buildings or furniture
he derived much of his income from doing repair work. This is where
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he needed his hollows and rounds the most. It is perhaps the same area
in which the modern woodworker will find them the most helpful.
Let us imagine a New Englander living in the year 1 800. His
house had been built eighty years before by his grandfather. He is now
building an addition into the homestead in order to accommodate a
growing family. For access into the ell he is going to remove a window
and turn i t into a doorway. He employs a local cabinetmaker-joiner
who lives in the village to do the work. It is not inconceivable that some
furniture made by this man is used in the house. I t is requested that
the new doorway possess the same architrave as the others in the
room so that it will be in keeping. However, the moulding plane which
was used for this purpose eighty years ago by a long dead carpenter is
not available and the local craftsman does not h ave one that matches
i t because the shape is no longer in style. Rather than disappoint his
customer he uses a combination of hollows and rounds, possibly
including a simple shape or two to build up ( or more accurately sculpt
out ) a moulding which looks like the original. This scenario is within
the realm of possibility as such work was quite often done. Anyone
who owns an old house which has not been recently butchered has a
good chance of finding an example of this type of reconstruction.
In a similar way shaping planes are a boon to the modern wood
worker who needs to repair an antique. My own recent experience
comes to mind. I once bought a mahogany Chippendale chair, a very
handsome example of Massachusetts work done about 1 790. It had lost
two inches off the bottoms of its legs, an atrocity probably resulting
from the Victorian craze for chairs with seats only fifteen inches high.
The legs were moulded on the fronts and sides with the usual hollows,
set off by a three eighths inch bead. In order to extend the legs a
two inch block of mahogany was joined to the bottom of e ach and
planed to size. I then use the same hollow to continue the moulding
and later finished the bead with a plane of that shape. A modern wood
worker who had no interest in antique tools may h ave been tempted to
carve the extensions. However, by using the s ame planes as did the
maker the task was much easier. The sole of each plane fit into the
existing shape and continued the cut with an exactness that could
not have been obtained in any other w ay.
Simple moulding planes are so called because their shapes are
basic. But unlike hollows and rounds they are truly moulding planes.
Their action is as complicated as that of the most complex forms. How
they are used will be discussed later. For now we are most interested in
their role in pre-industrial woodworking. Simple shapes include the
ordinary bead, the cove, the thumbnail, the ovolo, and the cyma recta

Moulding Planes 91
( known as the ogee ) and the cym a reverse. Although there exist several
other types of planes which m ake only one form they h ave been ignored,
once again because they are somewhat specialized in their use. The
shapes listed above are what would h ave been found as basic planes in
a j oiner's or cabinetmaker's tool box during the 1 8th and 1 9th centuries.
Of all the simple shapes ( and for that matter of all moulding
planes ) put together by far the most common is the bead. The use of
this fundamental moulding was, and continues to be, so wide spread
that we all recognize i t even if we do not know i t by n ame . A bead
is a half round detail on the edge of a board which is set off by either
a narrow, square edged channel called a quirk or a V-shaped one called
a bevel. The pre-industrial woodworker knew this moulding as a
quirked bead. Like hollows and rounds every craftsman , no m atter
how lowly his station, owned at least a couple of these . And as one might
expect better j oiners maintained an entire set ranging from as small
as one eighth to well over an inch. A bead was sometimes u sed for
setting off drawer fronts. It was found on the c asements of corner posts,
on matched boards, on ship l ap sheathing, on window s tops, as the only
mouldings on simple doorways, and a host of other places in furniture
and building construction. Sometimes it was the only decoration added
to humble woodwork. Other times, j oiners used its simplicity as a skill
ful foil in rooms elaborated with complex mouldings.
The reliance of the entire woodworking industry on beads, hollows
and rounds has an effect on the modern craftsman who wants to use
antique moulding planes in his work. The average pre-industrial crafts
man probably owned more of these three shapes th an all his other
moulding planes put together. Assuming that the destruction of antique
planes that occured during and after the Industrial Revolution was a
random one , wooden moulding planes probably exist tod ay in the s ame
proportions as they were originally made . The woodworker may have to
sort through ten , twen ty, possibly thirty or more beads, hollows and
rounds in order to find just one plane of another shape . As was true
of the bead, craftsmen who produced less elaborate work used the
simple shapes to make decorative mouldings on the furniture and in
the houses they were constructing. Meanwhile, more accomplished
woodworkers employed them in well thought out compositions to
create intricate architraves and chair rails. During the eighteenth
century the thumbnail ( which is so called because its profile looks
very much like that section of the digit for which i t is n amed ) was
common around drawer fronts, the lids of chests, the tops of case
pieces, corner post casements and the stiles and rails of r aised p mel
walls and doors. During the nineteenth century the use of this mould-
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ing was often replaced by the ovolo and sometimes the ogee. Beads
replaced thumbnails on drawer fronts. Chest lids sported ogees as did
the stiles and rails of Federal period doors. It is difficult to list all the
uses of each shape for they are infinite. Also, j oiners were proud of the
fact that they could do any variation of work. They did not necessarily
hold to one particular moulding for any single purpose throughout the
house. The reader who becomes interested in this subject is urged to
visit museums where he can tour restored houses furnished with
antique furniture. Only by seeing the actual results of pre-industrial
cabinetmaking and interior joining can he gain an appreciation of how
moulding planes were used to their best advantage. Books may be a
beginning but they are never an end.
The simple shapes were also available in graduated sets. As was
true of beads, hollows and rounds , a better joiner would have needed
a wider selection. The rural craftsman who was a part time cabinet
maker, a part time builder and a repairman would only own what he
could use. These were probably the intermediate sizes, usually from
three eighths to five eighths of an inch wide.
The use of complex moulding planes was a very different story,
and part of that story has to do with early American demography.
During the pre-industrial period the countryside was not what it is to
d ay. There was no such thing as urban sprawl, commuters and
suburbs. There were only a few large cities and these became respected
centers of fashion. Small towns popped up at fords and road crossings.
Between all this the land was dotted with industrious farms. However,
our concern is with those cities. They tended to develop around a
good harbor where trade was brisk and a men with sense could make
his way in this life , if not his fortune. Cities were able to do just this .
They bred fortunes. Also, they were centers of art, culture and good
taste. Anyone who had been either more fortunate, more industrious or
perhaps more cunning than his neighbors could conceivably end up a
wealthy man. Someone who had worked that hard to top the social
ladder did not flee to a country estate to live in idyllic seclusion.
Wealth was something that was supposed to be shown off. Who would
see it outside of the city ? The best way to inform the passer by that
here lived a very wealthy and successful man was to make the house as
fashionable and elaborate as could be afforded. It was a man's home
not his automobile, yacht or plane that spoke of his riches. When
such a man was erecting a house which which was supposed to an
nounce to the world both his social position and his good taste he hired
the most skilled woodworkers to do it for him. Joiners and cabinet
makers, responsible for both the dwelling and the furniture within it,
The moulding planes owned by an accomplished pre-industrial woodworker
came in all sizes and shapes.
were the men who owned the most elaborate moulding planes. There
was an intense competition to remain in style and this made wealthy
Americans living in these early cities very receptive to changes in
fashion. As furniture periods evolved from Chippendale, to Hepple
white to Sheraton and architecture moved from Georgian to Federal
to Greek Revival the men who could afford to remain in vogue did so
and woodworkers they employed scurried to keep up. Consequently ,
mouldings which are the icing on architecture and high style furniture
came into fashion and went out again. Also, different mouldings were
more popular in one city than in another. It is quite possible for some
one who is knowledgeable about mouldings and early American
architecture to pick up a complex plane and assign it a date and likely
use.
It would be nearly impossible to list all the varieties of moulding
planes that were used between Portsmouth, New H ampshire and
Savannah , Georgia between 1 720 and 1 850. It would be equ ally diffi
cult to list all the planes used to make the furniture produced by the
cabinet shops in those cities. These planes ranged from a fraction of
an inch wide for interior work on desks and secretaries to leviathans
that formed four and five inch cornices in palatial drawing rooms. AI-
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though many of their stocks retain the familiar shape others were so
small that they would fit in the palm of the craftsman' s hand. Crown
mouldings and chair rail planes could be so large that one man alone
could not work them. I t was necessary for an apprentice to tow them
with a rope. Some planes produced a wide flat shape. Others had to be
worked down into the wood an inch or more to form narrow but very
deep moulding. An example might be the back bands which complete
window, door and fire place architraves.
The best advice I can give a modern craftsman who wants to use
antique moulding planes properly is to visit restored houses decorated
with the correc t antique furniture. This way he can take notes as to
which shapes were popular in his region at what periods and for what
functions. He will begin to understand which mouldings are necessary
to restore or reproduce local interiors and furnishings. When I
purchase a moulding plane I cannot identify I run off a four or five
inch section. Sometimes I have several lengths of different shapes in
my pocket when I visit museums and restoration projects. This w ay I
have an actual piece of moulding to compare with what was used in
the homes or on the furniture. The hostesses are usually delighted to
allow me more latitude than is given to most guests since they ap
preciate genuine interest from a visitor.
As the reader becomes more aware of how mouldings were used
he will realize why they were so important to early American architec
ture and furniture. He will understand why there was always a back
lash when a decorator or designer tried to eliminate elaboration in
favor of simplicity. These mouldings were not applied willy-nilly by
unimaginative workmen who felt that busy was better than plain. No,
nothing could be more wrong. It is insulting to the original craftsman
as well as to himself when the imperceptive modern critic takes such a
narrow view. However, today's decorator-designer who feels that these
complex details are cluttered and even overworked always sees them
illuminated by electric bulbs. The woodwork is always painted white,
since we believe that all colonial homes were covered from foundati on
to attic with this basic shade. However, the early Americ an architect
designe d and built for his own technology and his woodwork was
originally painted using every color in the spectru m. It is unfair to
view his results under any other light. He knew that during the day
his rooms would be illumin ated by the sun and at night by candle s and
lamps . From dawn to dusk the mould ings would appear to slowly
change as the shadow s they produc ed within themse lves steadily
moved in relatio n to the sun. At night the dancin g flames of candle s
produ ced an infinit e combi nation of kaleid oscopi c theatrics that would
Moulding Planes 95
make a gathering of friends more gay or stimulate the muse in a

solitary viewer. Thu s , moulgings made furniture and architectur e
alive and invited the human intruder to interact with his dynamic
environment. A pre-industrial designer did with nature what our
decorators, frustrated by this plastic and static age, attempt with
mobiles and other creations c apable of motion, that is make a man
respond to his surroundings and not be j ust a prisoner contained by
them. How audacious we are in viewing such a sophisticated people as
quaint and how much we h ave sacrificed for the s ake of technology !
If he understands the involvement pre-Industrial master crafts
men had with their creations, today's woodworker realizes why they
had to have available such a large number of various moulding planes.
From these they could select a desired effect in the same manner as an
artist is able to choose a color from his palette. As much as they
needed variety they needed graduations so that they could miniaturize
or aggrandize a successful motif in order to maintain continuity in the
major and minor components of furniture and architecture. Few handi
caps, with perhaps the exception of his own accomplishment as a
craftsman , limited a cabinetmaker or j oiner as much as did the number
of moulding planes he owned.
Since almost all the tool chests once belonging to these wood
workers have been broken up, lost or destroyed by time , this is an
impossible hypothesis to prove. However, it would appear to be borne
out by the few accidents that history has passed down to us. If one
could examine the tool chest of a pre-Industrial woodworker he would
be able to determine where that long vanished craftsman had stood
in the order of accomplishment. In other words, a workman's tools
reflected his abilities. Perhaps no other group of instruments in his
box, with the possible exception of carving chisels and shaping tools,
would be a better indicator of his skill than the selection of moulding
planes he owned.
One example that is available to us is that of Ben Haley, a wood
worker born in 1 848 in Ogunquit, Maine, a small seacoast village near
the border with New Hampshire. I was once fortunate to purchase his
tool box from his aging granddaughter. According to what she was able
to tell me about Ben, he was a j ack-of-all-trades within the woodwork
ing industry as it existed during his life time . He was born into a
world that was rushing into the Industrial Revolution. However, in
southern Maine the shock waves of this upheaval were somewhat late
in arriving. Ben was raised in a world which from a technolog ical
standpoi nt was very much as rural America had always been as far
back as 1 620. Machine s and factory producti on had not yet replaced
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hand woodworking and the elaborate network of transportation that

could quickly bring the outside world to his sleepy southern Maine
town had not yet been developed.
His granddaughter told me , probably not realizing how time had
aggrandized Ben's abilities, that he could build a complete boat as well
as a house. More likely, he was very similar to thousands of individual
workers who had always existed in rural America. He was probably
very capable of mending a boat or doing repair work around the
house. However, unless a quantity of more sophisticated tools had
been removed from his box Ben did not own the wherewithal to erect
even a small building. Instead, he would have earned a living by pick
ing up repair work when he could and possibly by even hiring on with
a c arpenter or boatwright from time to time. He would h ave had to
supplement his livelihood with some other form of work. His grand
d aughter had said that he was also a fisherman, a very common occu
pation along the Maine coast.
The contents of Ben Haley's tool box. The moulding planes are arranged
in the foreground. Although twelve planes are present only eight make
mouldings. The remainder are skew rabbets. One would surmise that
he also owned a h ammer and a bit brace but these must have been lost.
The metal planes in the right foreground were probably added to the box
by Ben's son, who inherited it.
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Moulding Planes 97
Ben Haley was a typical rral American woodworker, but to de

scribe him only as such is not only unfair, it s grossly inaccurate.
Rural communities did not produce enough work to maintain a skilled
joiner in their midsts and consequently e ach was dependent on its
own Ben H aley. These men were as important to the woodworking in
dustry of that period as today's garage mechanic is to Detroit. They
lived in a world which had not yet developed the concept of factory
recall and these men repaired what broke and wore out. They main
tained in continu al service the wooden products on which the entire
population was so dependent.
It is fortunate and even important that Ben's tool box survived
nearly intact. He worked during the twilight of a period in American
history which had endured since Plymouth and Jamestown and was
one of the last survivors of pre-industrial woodworking. However,
one can learn as much about Ben by studying the contents of his tool
box as is possible by listening to the oral history preserved by his
granddaughter. What we are concerned with here is the small selec
tion of tools this man owned. The limitations that these tools imposed
on him relegated him to the status of "workman" as opposed to "crafts
man" or even "tradesman. " He simply did not possess the tools neces
sary to build entire products. His planes alone are witness of this fact.
Ben owned a wooden fore plane, a smoothing plane , a pair of m atched
planes, a moving filister, and adj ustable plow, several skew r abbets
( these are all special purpose planes which will be discussed in the next
chapter ) and only eight moulding planes. In light of our discussion of
the simple shapes it is not at all surprising to discover that these planes
consisted of two pairs of hollows and rounds ( one half inch and five
eights ) and a graduation of beads ranging from one quarter inch to
five eights.
This limited number contrasts sharply with what one would h ave
found in the tool box of a successful pre-industrial woodworker living
only twenty miles away in the m aj or cabinetmaking city of Ports
mouth, New Hampshire. An urban woodworker, above all one who was
a specialist such as an interior j oiner, would h ave owned perhaps two
or three chests of moulding planes.
A modern craftsman who wants to use old moulding planes will
also be handicapped by a limited selection of them. Unless he is hin
dered by his pocket book he c an still quickly assemble a graduation of
hollows and rounds as well as beads. He will have more difficulty
with ogees, ovolos, coves and thumbnails, but these are by no means
rare. The difficulty arises in gathering a working collection of complex
planes that has any reasonable continuity. Remember, these were used
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by only a small proportion of woodworkers and are the scarces t of all

shapes. The modern craftsman will find single planes of various sizes ,
both early and late. However, until he has assembled a quantity of
them he will not even begin to notice a small number which have any
relationship one to another in both periods as well as function. If he is
specializing in furniture and interior restoration or reproduction he
will find that for a long time he will be making up complex mouldings
with his simple planes in the same manner as did a pre-industrial re
pair m an. He will discover that his best plan of action is to quickly
buy any restorable complex plane he finds, even if he cannot imagine
an immediate use. Unless the price is outrageous such a plane will al
ways be a good investment.
It amazes me how the antique marketplace establishes prices for
wooden moulding planes. The trade is normally very conscious of what
is scarce and what is desirable. An item which possesses both of these
virtues is always high priced. However, when it comes to moulding
planes a good complex form usually sells for the same as any other
common shape. Many tools are still sold to interior decorators to be
hung on walls and the purpose a moulding plane may have once had
is immaterial. The only matter of importance is that the wooden object
is in fact an old tool. It seems that the most usual way of pricing these
planes is by size. Therefore an inch and a half bead will bring as much
money as a good furniture cornice. This phenomenon is a result of
the ignorance that most dealers share when it comes to antique tools.
However, it is a situation which will not last forever and the wood
worker had best search and buy now rather than waiting until the
market straightens out this unusual situation.
Before continuing I have one appropriate story to include since it
has to do with planes that are hung on walls. In an area such as Ports
mouth, New Hampshire where tourists are acutely aware of historic
importance even if the residents themselves are not, any good business
man knows how to exploit this interest. Therefore , more than one
restaurant as well as numerous other establishments reflect their pride
in the city's ancient origins by having moulding planes, blacksmith
tongs and other completely disassociated Americana on their walls.
While dining in a restaurant one night with his wife, a j oiner friend
spotted a moulding plane which would produce an elaborate and com
plex Georgian chair rail. He asked to see the manager and explained
that he used such tools in his occupation . He would be willing to buy
the one on the wall or replace it. Since rarity was immaterial to the
restauranteur he agreed to swap. My friend now owns and uses the
tool while the wall of the restaurant sports a well worn j ack plane. This
Moulding Planes 99
story was recounted by him one day when a group of us were to

gether talking shop. I was ne ver one to hope that lightning might
strike twice but within the m dnth another joiner 'who had been present
managed to trade a similar chair rail moulding plane with the man
ager of a fast food and ice cream shop where he h ad stopped for a
cup of coffee. As was stressed in an e arlier chapter antique tools are
where you find them. However, I do not expect to hear a similar story
very soon.
Moulding planes were used by American woodworkers from the
earliest settlements up to and occasionally through the Industrial Revo
lution. Although mechanical shapers had reduced the need for them
they continued to be used for special purposes right into the twentieth
century. As a matter of fact some wooden moulding planes were used
to produce the dashboards of early automobiles. These late functions
were really only a survival phenomenon. The actual dependence of the
woodworking industry on moulding planes began to end about the
time of the Civil War. This event coincided with the introduction of
machines which ran off mouldings sold as mill work.
Because their use spanned nearly three hundred years it is not
surprising that a moulding plane can be dated stylistically. As was true
of bench planes the development of tool factories during the mid
nineteenth century and their use of faster, more efficient techniques
resulted in standardization of designs. Therefore , most nineteenth
century planes look very much alike , more so than do those made dur
ing an earlier less organized period of production. Any woodworker
who knows what to look for can usu ally distinguish between a nine
teenth and an eighteenth century plane. *
As mentioned earlier the antique market place has thus far failed
to establish a rational means for determining the price of a plane . If a
dealer owns two chairs of comparable qu ality which were produced
seventy five years apart , say one in 1 775 and another in 1 850 he is
able to quickly distinguish between the two. The earlier chair will bear
a price tag that is several times more than that of the younger. H ow
ever, the same dealer may display two planes of the same age differ
ence side by side on a shelf and will price them identically. This is
There was not as much uniformity in e arlier production and also many
;'<
craftsmen made tools for their own needs. S tand ardization became increas
ingly more common during the second quarter of the nineteenth century
and without a known maker's stamp it is impos sible to distinguish a plane
made as late as 1 820 from one made in 1 790. Therefore, the term eighteenth
century plane refers more to a tool which bears certain characteri stics ( or
perhaps a lack of them) typical of e arly work rather than those produced
during a defi nite period .
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1 00 ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS
another situation that will not last long. As the prices and demand for
antique tools continue to mount dealers will become more and more
knowledgeable about dating and pricing wooden planes.
If a dealer's stock of moulding planes is arranged side by side on
a shelf or is stacked end up in a box the modern woodworker can
quickly pick out the earlier planes. Nineteenth century factory planes
rarely vary in length and are a standard nine and one half inches long.
It is a good chance that any moulding plane which is either longer or
shorter than the rest was made much earlier.
If the woodworker is able to find such a plane he should take it
down from the shelf and compare it with later examples. A moment's
study reveals some very important differences. First, is the shape of
the body, or stock. A factory which was cranking out as many as a
hundred planes a day was not able to devote as much concern to
aesthetic appeal as was a man who made them one at a time. The
e arlier maker generally produced a minor work of art. The use of
such an exalted term may make the reader somewhat skeptical , but a
critical examination reveals the craftsman's concern for producing
tools which were not only efficient but visually pleasing as well. The
chamfer, which relieves the angularity of the stock is very pronounced ,
while the edges of a later plane are only somewhat softened. All the
wedges of nineteenth century moulding planes are alike and their
shape immediately identifies them. On the other hand , the wedges of
earlier planes were shaped according to a maker's whim, although it is
obvious that he was not insensitive to the harmony of the tool. His
wedges were not simple appendages holding the iTon in place.
Just above the opening of a moulding plane's throat the thickeness
of the stock drops dramatically and is only wide enough to accommo
date the tang of the iron. On a nineteenth century plane this drop is
perfunctory and was usually enhanced with nothing more than a
shallow channel. A small gouge was used to carve two decorative chips
at about this height on the reverse side of the plane. These were the
only decorations included by most factories and they were very stand
ard. However, during the eighteenth century plane makers obviously
spent more time conceivin g their issue. At the drop in the stock where
the later manufac turer was content with a vague hollow the earlier
toolmake r almost always used a fully develope d mouldin g. While a
deep cove is most commonly found on earlier planes some makers went
so far as to include a full ogee and the results are very pleasing . Even
these men used mouldi ng planes to to decora te their own work. It is
not so remarkable when one conside rs that the men who made wooden
planes were themse lves woodw orkers. This is an import ant concep t. It
Moulding Planes 101
means that rather than being able only to produce tools they were also
c apable of recognizing good opes because they hemselves employed
the very implements in their work. The same c annot be said of a man
who operates a machine in a modern tool factory. The woodworker
who purchases such a tool can only hope that the engineer who de
signed it knew what he was dOing.
If the reader is observant he may also notice that eighteenth cen
tury planes are made of a variety of hard woods while those produced
later were usually of only one or two species. Plane making during the
earlier century was not as organized. Communications and travel in
e arly America were overwhelmingly difficult. The problems that manu
facturers of American goods experienced in transporting their prod
ucts resulted in high prices when they finally arrived in the market
place. Therefore, Americans relied more on local enterprises rather
than those working in another region. All these factors resulted in
many scattered workshops, each supplying a locality with its particular
product but not corresponding one with another. By the time the fac
tory method of wooden plane manufacture was in full swing railroads
and canal systems had already removed the impasse of overland
transport and had thrown open the g ates of Americ a's interior. Now,
planes could be shipped from any point between the east coast and the
frontier without raising the cost to a level which was prohibitive . Prior
to this revolution in transportation it was often true that English goods
could actually be purchased more cheaply than could similar American
products. English methods of manufacture were much more developed
than were n ative techniques. Therefore, items left the foreign shop as
a lower price than those produced here. Since they could be shipped
by sea rather than by the torturous overland routes they arrived at
American coastal markets underselling products made only a couple
of hundred miles away. For this reason, many of the planes American
woodworkers were using during the eighteenth century were actually
produced in England. The combination of all these factors explains
why so many different woods and shapes were used in the manufacture
of early planes. The complete spectrum of n ative hardwood can be
found as well as many European varie ties. As is true of nineteenth
century bench planes , later American manufacturers preferred fagus
grandifolia, the e asily recognized American beech for their moulding
planes.
Even during the pre-industrial period a craftsman who had to
make a qu antity of any one item be it windows, doors , other mill work
or wooden planes knew how to set up jigs to assist in mass manufac
ture. Because e arly tool factories produced a line of standardized forms
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Some eighteenth century moulding planes compared with later examples.
The top left hand plane and the two in the bottom row are the earlier.
Notice that they not only differ from the nineteenth century planes but
from each other as well. Their stocks are not all the same length and
their wedges are shaped differently. On the other hand, the later tools
all look remarkably alike even though made by separate firms.
the stocks of their planes, the soles, the mouths and throats were all
predetermined for the tool maker by jigs and patterns. It was not
necessary to lay out all the features of a tool prior to any shaping.
Therefore , nineteenth century planes do not announce to the world
that they were hand made although the men who produced them still
used saws, chisels and even other planes. However, an eighteenth
century plane , whether it is the product of a trained plane maker or a
tool fashioned by a woodworker to satisfy his own needs, was indi
vidually made. Consequently such a plane exhibits the usual device
early craftsmen used to lay out their work ; the scribe mark. These fine
scratch lines are normally found around the chamfer and determined
for the maker the width of this bevel. They were also made when the
opening for the throat was being laid out. These marks were left be
cause they did not offend the craftsmen. After all, scribe lines were
the same method he used to determine any cuts he made in furniture
and an antique collector knows just where to look for them in identify
ing a legitimate piece of early woodwork.
As was true of their bench planes nineteenth century shops and
factories regularly stamped an identifying mark on the ends of their
moulding planes. The n ame of one or several owners as well as that
of an occasional merchant will be regularly found. A woodworker who
inspects a quantity of these tools will begin to recognize the more
prolific firms. However, earlier moulding planes are not so regularly
Moulding Planes 1 03
identified. This may be because a m aker produced tools for a local

clientele and they all knew him, or because an e arly plane m ay h ave
been m ade by a craftsman for l his own use. Certainly he did not h ave
to announce to the world his own product. If an e arly maker did stamp'
his plane the m ark he used was normally much more crude than those
applied by factories. As j ust an example of what the woodworker faces
in identifying e arly planes, take my case . There are fourteen planes in
my box which give every indication of earlier work. Of them only three
bear any stamp at all. Since I bought these three from a single dealer
and each is marked the same I suspect that the initials are those of
the owner and not a maker. Lists of eighteenth century American en
terprises have been compiled and the reader who owns a marked plane
is referred to them.
Another feature which was common to nineteenth century planes
but is not regularly associated with earlier manufacture are the box
wood inserts set into the soles of some tools to prevent wear. The fric
tion which occurs when a plane is worked is responsible for this dam
age. In the case of a bench plane any deformity is removed by replan
ing the sole. However, very little correction is possible with a moulding
plane. Consequently , one must assume that when moulding planes
wore out they were retired or reworked to another shape. During the
nineteenth century better moulding planes h ad boxwood inserted at
the points in the sole where the most wear occured. Box is an extremely
dense wood which bears up under use better than ordinary beech. The
practice of boxing a moulding plane is a good example of the gradual
improvement of technique that occurs within a craft whose practice
has endured long enough so that a tradition is developed. The result is
that many highly trained minds, drawing on an identic al heritage ,
',vere able to improve these tools to the extent of the limitations im
posed by the technology they used. It was not until that technology
itself was altered by the Industrial Revolution and the Iron Age that
any further improvement in the concept of planes could occur.
In the chapter on special purpose planes many more excellent
examples of this rationalization of plane making within the limits of
pre-indusrial technology will be discussed. However, for now let us
continue with boxwood inserts. As was true of their bench planes tool
makers offered for sale several grades of moulding planes. The com
mon examples were the least expensive and were made entirely of
beech. As the amount of boxwood set into the sole of the plane in
creased so did the price. Inserts could be placed at j ust the wear points.
Or, the entire sole could be made from a length of box keyed into the
stock with an elaborate joint referred to as a dove tail , although it is
different from what is called to a cabinetma ker's mind by the same
term.
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This graduation of beads
also illustrates four different
ways of boxing the sole. No
tice the m aker's and the
owner's stamps on the end
gram.

This is a feature the modern woodworker should be quite con

scious of when buying moulding planes. Boxing will extend for him
the lifetime of a plane j ust as it did for a pre-industrial craftsman. Such
planes should be more expensive. But as is true of earlier tools and
those which make complex shapes, a boxed plane is usually the same
price as a more common example. However, as dealers become more
aware of the value of planes this will cease.
Other than the wood of which a plane was made, as well as the
shape of its stock and wedge, a maker's stamp, and boxwood inserts,
there is one more feature which occasionally identifies an earlier
moulding plane. Because the shape of the actual mouldings themselves
evolved along with the architecture or furniture styles they accom
panied they regularly came into fashion and went out of date. The
simple shapes did not change dramatically, but those used for cornices,
for window and door treatments as well as all other high style interior
work were subject to the whims of fashion. Therefore, there are dis
tinct Georgian , Federal and Greek Revival shapes. This is perhaps the
most esoteric means of dating a plane and requires considerable ex
posure to them. However, if the woodworker is aware that these dis
tinctions do exist he will take notice of them. He will be surprised at
j ust how much information he will absorb from simply handling the
planes he finds for sale.
Moulding planes were used primarily by cabinetmakers and in
trior j oiners. Although the practice of these two crafts overlapped
considerably there is one important distinction between them. Most
often cabinetmakers used hard woods to build furniture. Moreover,
the hardwoods they selected often displayed a grain with a pronounced
figure. Figured wood is hard stuff to work. Curly and bird's eye maple
will try men's souls as well as the soles of the planes they use on such
wood. On the other hand, the interior joiner worked almost exclusively
with pine, poplar or other suitable soft woods selected from the most
perfect boards he could find. The demands he made on his planes were
not as exacting as were those of a furniture maker. For this reason
planes used by a j oiner often h ad a different pitch to the cutting iron

than those intended for h ard yvoods. The reader will remember that
.
the s teeper sets were called the York, middle and half pitch. Moulding
planes with irons set at any of these angles were intended for hard
woods and most likely belonged to a cabinetmaker. A plane with a
common pitch was more likely to have been purchased by a craftsman
who was involved with building construction.
Whether or not a plane was intended for working hard wood or
soft is a feature the woodworker might want to keep in mind before
purchasing the tool , but there are also more serious concerns. As was
true of bench planes moulding planes were not appreciated by the
people into whose hands they passed after their original owners h ad
died. Because of this most of the moulding planes that h ave survived
are in rough shape. These planes are precision instruments, much
more so than are even bench planes. The action of a moulding plane
is so complex that tolerances are very n arrow and defects are almost
impossible to correct. Unless a moulding plane is rare and the wood
worker needs i t so b adly he cannot w ait to find another, I strongly
urge that anyone who wants to use these tools refuse those which are
not in nearly perfect condition. A common moulding plane which is
defective is just not worth the bother and effort required to make it
functional once again.
Moulding planes were made with their irons set at all four pitches for
both soft and hard wood. The plane in the upper left corner is set a t
forty five degrees , the common pitch. That to its right is a t fifty degrees,
the York pitch. The bottom right plane represents the middle pitch, fifty
five degrees, and the bottom left the h alf pitch, or sixty degrees. One
plane is earlier than the others . Can you pick it out?
."
. '

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Our first concern ( which is so only because it is the most obvious )

is the stock. As with bench planes the body must be sound or it is a
cull. In the event that the end grain has only checked slightly the
plane should be treated with oil to sustain the aging wood. However, any
dry rot or area softened by either too much moisture or too much drying
is ample cause for rejection.
If a bench plane is missing its iron a salvaged blade of the same
width will return the tool to operation in very short order. In the case
of a moulding plane a missing iron is serious. Unless the shape of the
resulting moulding is extremely rare or the craftsman needs it im
mediately it is not worth his while to grind another cutter. Later we
will explain how new irons are made, but for now this defect should
be sufficient cause for the woodworker to reject the tool and leave it
for someone with less knowledge or wisdom.
As was mentioned when discussing boxwood inserts, wooden
moulding planes wore out after a certain quantity of use. Unlike
bench planes these tools cannot be resoled with much success. Any
one planning to return a moulding plane to service should first check
the wear on the sole. All the surfaces and edges should still be crisp or
otherwise the plane will not ride accurately on the features of the
moulding with each successive cut. In this event the plane will jump
and its iron will scratch the infant moulding, usually marring it beyond
repair. This only needs to occur to the woodworker once or twice be
fore he curses the day he ever bought the tool. However, if a plane
passes all the above criteria it is usually safe to assume it will func
tion well.
Before putting the plane into service the iron almost always needs
to be honed. The shape of the wedge which was universally used for
moulding planes invites one to assume that it is loosened by driving
it upward. Wrong ! The wedge should be loosened by shock in the same
manner as one does with a bench plane. The stock should be struck
on its heel with a mallet. Only if this fails should any force be applied
to the wedge. This is a thin piece of wood and striking it courts an
accident. Rather than risk crushing the wedge by pounding it I have
found it better to grip a recalcitrant one in a bench vise and drive the
stock off of it. Since the irons of most moulding planes have a dis
tinct taper a tight wedge can sometimes be loosened by driving the
tang with a hammer so that the blade exits from the stock via the
mouth. In order to prevent this difficulty in the future when resetting
a moulding plane iron always be careful to not set the wedge too
tightly.
The cutter of one of these tools does not need to retain a razor
edge as does a bench plane. Usually honing with a good stone is all
Moulding Planes 107
that is required . Anyone who uses moulding planes quickly learns that
a variety of hones and slips is essenti al . These are necessary for reach
ing into corners as well as hollows and reverse curves. These stones are
something the woodworker should keep in mind when shopping for old
tools. They are seldom recognized by dealers and consequently are
often priced way below the value of a new one.
If the iron of a moulding plane is rusted it should be cleaned in
the same manner as one would treat the cutter of a bench plane suffer
ing from the same affliction.
Since the iron is out of the plane to be honed this is as good a
time as any to strip and recondition the stock. The operation is done
in the same w ay as was that of our fore plane. Paint stripper removes
any spatters and accumulated grime. C aution is required to prevent any
gunk from flOwing into the throat. A good rubbing with boiled linseed
oil returns luster as well as resiliency to the wood.
Some skill is required to set the plane iron , but this is an ability
which is quickly developed after only a few attempts. Logic ally the
iron will only cut when it is set lower than the sole. The woodworker
puts the tan g up the plane's throat and lightly sets the wedge so the
whole unit is stable and not easily knocked about. While the craftsman
sights along the sole looking from toe to heel the tang is tapped with
a light hammer. Eventu ally, the edge of the cutter, ground to the same
shape as the sole , will begin to rise from the throat into the line of
sight like a phoenix reincarnating itself. How deep the cutter needs to
be set is a matter of practice . Since a thin chip requires more passes of
the plane to form the moulding , practicality calls for a somewhat
The force required to move a

moulding plane is directly re
lated to the actual width of its
cu t . Restoration specialist Mal
colm McGregor is forced to put
the entire weight of his body
behind this plane as he cuts a
four inch wide Georgian cor-
IDce.

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This is what the woodworker
should see when he sights down
the sole of a moulding plane
whose cutter is properly posi
tioned .
Right: The scribed lines meeting at a right angle on the toe of a moulding
plane tell the woodworker at which angle the tool must be held to use.
The vertical line is parallel with the surface of the board and the horizontal
line is parallel with its edge . Both the fence and stop are apparent in the
photograph. This complex shape was called an ogee and astragal. I t is
commonly found as a back band around New England Federal door and
window architraves.
deeper set than would be used on a bench plane. However, since the
chip must also be able to pass by the mouth without choking there
are limitations. Acquiring a sense for j ust how deep a cut can be
taken with e ach comes with experience. It must be remembered that
although the completed moulding may not be very wide, if it is par
ticularly deep or contains numerous features the actual width of the
surface being cut may be many times the measurable width of the
plane's sole. It is the width of the chip which determines how much
resistance the wood will put up against the cutting action. Therefore,
a narrow moulding with a chip whose actual width is very near the
same can be set deeply. However, the woodworker may be deceived by
a very elaborate moulding plane which in itself is narrow but mean
while cuts a large surface area. He will find it necessary to ease up on
the depth of the cutter. Otherwise the plane will resist and stall in the
course of its passage.
Once the proper depth is achieved the next concern is to set the
edge in relation to the contour of the sole. The iron is ground to exactly
the same shape as the bottom of the plane. When properly set the
woodworker will be able to sight down the sole of the plane and see the
exposed cutting edge. It should appear slightly hi gher than the wood.
I t is imperative that what he sees look like a halo around the outline
of the bottom. In other words, the cutting edge must be everywhere
equidistant from the surface of the sole. If it is too shallow i t might
not cut and if too deep it will either choke or tear the wood. Horizontal
correction can be achieved by tapping the tang of the cutter from either
one side or the other. This moves the edge back and forth in relation
to the outline of the sole . The trained eye can w atch this movement
and knows when it is in proper position to make the most s atisfactory
cut. I realize that this is very easy to say and much more difficult in
practice. However, practice is the only way anyone can learn to use
these demanding tools. Books may give advice and direction, but only
actual use developes skill .
Once the iron is in position, the wedge is driven in tightly enough
to prevent the edge from being knocked about during use . N ow the
plane is ready to cut a moulding. One fe ature these tools have that was
not shared by bench planes is a guide called a fence. This is an edge
which keeps the plane running true along the board until such time as
the moulding has developed enough to sustain the tool and prevent i t
from j umping off during its passage. Since most ancient woodworkers
were right handed ( left handedness was discouraged in children, often
forCibly ) , moulding planes were made to be used by workmen with that
tendency. Therefore , the fence is usually on the left side as one holds
the plane in position. Not all moulding planes are meant to be held
vertically when in use . Some were intended to be placed so that they
were actually inclined one way or another. Just what angle must be
maintained is determined by the fence . Moulding planes should only
be run along a board that has been accurately jointed . Their stocks are
short and will follow any irregularity. If the edge of the board has
been j ointed it is squ are and the fence can be set against it to de
termine the proper position for use. If the fence is pressed flush against
the edge the plane will immediately assume the required angle. The
woodworker must be very respectful of the fence for if he ignores it
he will find that the tool refuses to function.
Nineteenth century planemakers developed a method which is
much easier than the fence-against-the-board technique for determin
ing how a plane shoud be positioned. They scribed sometimes one , but
more often two lines , on the end grain of their planes. These meet at
a right angle . In the event that only one line is used the right angle is
implied and can be formed by the woodworker's imagination. The
vertical line should be set parallel to the edge on which the fence is to
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be pressed. The horizont al line will then be parallel to the surface of

the board. When these relations hips are achieved the plane is in proper
position for use. Unfortun ately this device was not at all common on
early planes and appears most often on those of mid-ninet eenth century
m anufactur e. However, it is most likely that the first plane a wood
worker purchases will be one of the more common l ate variety and will
bear these scribe marks. By the time he finds an earlier plane suitable
for his use he will be skilled enough at running off mouldings to
fathom the function of these less self explanatory tools.
Now that the moulding plane has been reconditioned and the
woodworker knows how to hold it he has only one more concern before
putting it to use. Moulding planes, especially those with the common
pitch intended for soft wood, are extremely demanding of the stuff
they will work satisfactorily. Any variation in the grain will cause them
to tear. At best, this means clean up time with sand paper, but it is
often reason enough to reject the moulding altogether. Consequently,
the woodworker must be very selective of his stock. The grain should
be as perfect as possible. Any knots are unacceptable . The best wood
for mouldings is obtained from the edges of a board since the most re
cent growth of a tree is the furthest away from any encased knots
that may be incorporated in the trunk. The best board to select is the
crown plank, that is the one that is sawn from the center of the tree .
It will usu ally have the heart in it. Of course this board is so unstable
that it is not satisfactory for any other purpose. But narrow widths of
it represent radical cuts such as are obtained by quarter sawing. These
are the most workable for mouldings.
The case is different with hardwoods, especially those which are
heavily figured. They cannot be worked by a plane with a common
pitch. Pre-industrial woodworkers preferred to use a plane set with
either the middle or even the half pitch. These were less inclined to
tear since their action was closer to that of a scraper.
With all these previous considera tions in mind the woodworker
is ready to begin . The stock should be gripped firmly before the wedge
with the left hand and by the heel with the right. These planes require
conside rable force from behind to keep them moving smooth ly. If the
passage is erratic they create mars on the cut and require clean up
and finish work. The plane must also be held with its fence forced
tightly against the edge. If a gap is allowed to form between the board
and the fence the mouldi ng will not develop fully and will lose some
of its detail on the left hand side. The woodworker who allows this to
h appen also risks permitting the plane to jump off the mould ing, an
accident which creates predictable difficulties.
Moulding Planes 111
A relatively shallow form c an be developed in four or five passes.

More are required if the moulding is a deep one. Either w ay these
planes were ingeniously designed so that they themselves know when
their work is completed. Most h ave what is called a stop built into the
sole. When the moulding is finished their stop prevents the iron from
cutting any deeper. The last pass is free of any resistance and the
friction of the hardwood sole, polished by use to a glassy smoothness
burnishes the surface of the moulding. This final action leaves the
band of wood with a finish that is so fine it could never be duplicated
with sandpaper. If the process is done properly, especially on softwoods
with a good grain , no finish work is required . As a m atter of fact the
woodworker's mouldings may be the most perfect part of an entire pro
ject.
These planes are perhaps the most sophisticated woodworking
tools pre-industrial Man ever developed. But beyond their concept they
are also the most critical implements a craftsman would have used. In
order to perform properly they insist that all conditions be j ust so. A
moulding plane which is not perfect cannot be expected to produce
even acceptable results. Plane makers were aware of this. Their prod
ucts were marvelous examples of how a heritage and tradition com
bined to result in ever improving tools. In this light it is curious that
collectors are prone to look down their noses at factory made planes.
They prefer to own earlier examples , simply because of their rarity. I
would be more impressed if their interest were in the aesthetic appeal
of these tools. They were made by men who were concerned not only
with producing instruments which h ad to perform an intricate func
tion but which would also be so pleasing to the eye that one might
appreciate them for no other reason than their artistic success.
My experience has been that eighteenth century planes are more
cranky than later examples . They are not the end result of a craft
which was able to enjoy communication between its practitioners.
During the earlier period of manufacture plane makers did not inter
relate as much as they did during the nineteenth century. The diffi
culties in travel and transportation of the world they inhabited pro
hibited this. Their ties with other tool makers were in the past and
were fundamentally a result of their apprenticeships. The experimenta
tion of preceding generations was passed to them unwittingly through
the umbilical cord of their indentures. Nineteenth century tool m akers
did communicate and the uniformity of their planes is testimony to
this fact. No accident could result in such identical forms. Granted,
this communication may have actually come about through the piracy
of one man's better ideas by another rather than by sitting down and
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discussing common problems. Either way, interaction occurred and

resulted in planes which performed better than did earlier examples.
This is what matters to the woodworker. Rarity , venerability and ro
mance do not contribute one jot to the function of his tools. He may
enjoy owning the more artistic eighteenth century planes but he will
probably be happy to use a better although later tool in his work.
Of course , the choice of whether or not to use moulding planes
of one period or another is not always open to a woodworker. A restora
tion carpenter who works on buildings dating from the early eighteenth
century to the mid-nineteenth century had best have on hand as many
different planes as he can conceivably purchase. He may use late
planes to m ake the simple mouldings which time and fashion ignored.
However, he will not find Georgian shapes that were produced after
that style of architecture had ceased to be built. Therefore, he picks up
all the restorable eighteenth century planes he can find and he blesses
the lucky star he was born under every time he manages to locate one
that is still intact. It is a fact of life for a woodworker in this position
that some of the more rare moulding planes will have to be restored or
reworked beyond what would be worth doing to a common shape.
These cornice and chair rail planes represent only a fraction of what a
versatile restoration joiner needs to own. The second tool from the right
once decorated a restaurant wall. Courtesy Malcolm McGregor.
Moulding Planes 113
Assuming that a plane is not suffering from an obvious defect

such as a missing iron , this is the rule of thumb : If the tool will not
perform correctly, most likely the fault is yours: If the tool chokes,
do not quickly decide that its throat is too small and needs to be en
larged. Remember, the plane was used by as many as three generations
of workers before you . If the orifice needed to be enlarged one of them
would h ave already done it. If it did not perform up to their standards
it would have been disposed of long ago. But it was not. It survived.
Its very existence is a strong indication that it is in fact a good tool.
Exhaust everything before ever altering a moulding plane. One pos
sibility must be the assumption that you are still too inexperienced to
pass j udgment. Perhaps the plane should be stored for a while until
you can look at it through more understanding eyes. If impatience
forces you to be rash be certain you h ave diddled with the tool and
tried as many different solutions as you can imagine. The hope is that
by accident you will stumble onto the problem before ever making any
alterations.
As an aside it should be noted that many of the planes available
today were reworked by the pre-industrial craftsmen who owned them.
This most likely occurred when the sole of a moulding plane had worn
out. Rather than discard the tool the frugal craftsman reformed the
bottom to a smaller or more shallow shape. These altered planes some
times work very well, but occasionally the reconstruction was a failure.
Whether or not to buy such a plane is up to the purchaser, but experi
ence helps him to determine which of these alterations will probably
still do the job. The reason for mentioning them was to make the
reader aware of their existence and not to suggest the possibility that
a plane should be reworked.
There are numerous difficulties that time and wear create in a
moulding plane. Correcting any of them amounts to a maj or under
taking, and if any of these attempts is botched it turns the tool into a
mantel decoration. One of the most common problems a plane de
velops is choking. The shaving, which is rushing up and out the
plane's throat, suddenly stops, kinks like an accordion , and causes the
tool to come to an immediate halt. The tightly packed chip has to be
picked out of the throat carefully so that the edge of the iron is not
damaged. This flaw is a maj or aggravation. The first possibility is that
the plane is being held improperly. Try a number of various positions.
If this does not help, examine the wedge to see if a gap has worn be
hind it so that the chip becomes caught rather than shooting freely
out of the throat. It is also possible that somewhere along the line the
dealer, or someone before him , bought the plane without its wedge.
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In order to offer for s ale a complete tool one w as salvaged. This will
not fit perfectly since it comes from another plane. The shadow pattern
on the wedge will not usually be right, exposing the secret that it and
the plane did not start out their life together. A replacement should
be made, but the temptation is always strong to alter the addition.
Either way , the wedge must be carefully fitted and the plane run
slowly down the board so the craftsman can see where the chip be
comes caught.
- It is also possible that the throat has already been opened by a
previous owner whose only real difficulty was that he did not under
stand the plane. In an attempt to correct for his own lack of skill he
altered the tool. Now even in the hands of someone who knows how
the plane should be used, it chokes because the orifice is too wide. The
shaving wanders until it catches rather than being forced up and out
of the throat by a tight n arrow passage.
It is almost as annoying to have the plane j ump off a partly com
pleted shape as it is to pick out a j ammed chip. Each time this hap
pens it is necessary to saw off the incomplete moulding and rejoint the
edge of the board. The major cause of this problem is a badly worn
fence. When square , this edge keeps the plane on the board with
assurance. If rounded and softened by use it rolls and allows the plane
to shift. There are two ways to correct this. The first is to add another
fence. This is done by applying a hardwood board to the side of the
plane. A wide shallow rabbet cut into this addition abuts the stock
and overlaps the original fence . This enlarges the surface which must
run along the edge of the board while the moulding is being cut. Occa
sionally the woodworker will discover a plane which has already had
this feature applied . It should not be removed with the thought in
mind that the tool will look better without it. This will only cause the
plane to once again experience the difficulties an earlier owner was
forced to resolve.
The second method of correcting a worn fence is the most risky
of the two because it involves working the wcod of the tool itself. A
fine, reliable rabbett plane can be run along the inside edge of the
fence so as to reduce its thickness. When this is completed a hard
wood shim is glued in place and later trimmed to the same dimensions.
In effect this returns the fence to its original shape. It is not a method
for the beginner, since some experience is necessary to know just how
much wood should be removed.
There is another reason why the plane will not stay on the mould
ing and this is perhaps the most insidious. Plane makers were very
conscious of the need to select the best grained timber from which to
Both these planes have repaired fences. A shim h as been glued to the
upper tool. A new and larger fence was made for the other. Notice that
the craftsman who owned it went so far as to form a thumb n ail moulding
around the edge of his addition. This is a good illustration of the concern
pre-industrial woodworkers had for their tools. Even a repair had to be
aesthetically pleasing.
fashion their wares. They knew that a wooden instrument which re

quired as much precision as did a moulding plane could not endure
any dimensional chan ge. Therefore , they selected varieties of wood
and sections of timber which would remain stable. U nder proper con
ditions these pieces of stock would not move about . However, mould
ing planes were not always m aintained with care after their original
owners had died. If not stored in a relatively constant atmosphere or
even more so, if allowed to lose its n atural oil through evaporation , a
plane might w arp ever so slightly. This is what occasionally resulted
when they were packed away in b arns, attics or cellars. This also seems
to be a common defect in recently imported English moulding planes.
This may occur bec ause the tool has spent most of its life in a damp
maritime climate. The dryer American atmosphere alters the moisture
content and c auses the long stable wood to move. The resulting wrap
or more often a rack, is not noticeable in a short length such as the
body of a moulding plane. However, even this slight amount is a
catastrophe. An imperceptible warp will cau se a plane to ride on only
the high point of its fence. This results in no stability at all. The plane
j umps off the moulding time after time. Because the source of the
difficulty is invisible the woodworker is both annoyed and perplexed .
The way to spot a w arp or rack is to sight down the fence. The
slight bow that is causing the problem may become more noticeable.
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The cure is tenuous at best and there is no assurance that it will work.
The plane is placed on a moist towel with the concave side of the
w arp down. The cloth should not be wringing wet, but it must not be
merely damp either. A spot light, similar to what a photographer would
use, is placed over the tool close enough so that the heat of the bulb will
warm it. Both should be left in this position for several hours. How
ever, the process ( if it is going to work at all ) may take several days.
Either w ay , if and when the cup does come out of the plane the tool
should be immediately wiped with linseed oil in an attempt to stabilize
the wood. This may seal it and force it to retain the moisture it has
absorbed. Never again allow the plane to become dry or it is possible
that the warp will return. If this attempt fails do not bother to rework
the sole. This will only botch it further.
Grinding a replacement iron for a moulding plane is a grueling
task. Hollows and rounds are the only shapes which can be reground
in less than ten minutes. For the cutter of a complex plane the crafts
man should plan on as much as an hour of painstaking labor. A simple
moulding plane ( one whose duplicate can be found somewhere else
after only a modest amount of searching ) is not worth purchasing at
any price if its iron is missing. However, if the modern craftsman is at
all serious in his desire to accumulate and use good early mouldings in
his work the day will inevitably arrive when he finds an unusual and
useful plane which is minus its cutter. In anticipation of this occasion
he should keep a sharp eye for the miscellaneous moulding plane irons
he will find in his travels. They can usually be purchased for a dollar
or so. It is essential to have on hand a selection of various sized antique
moulding plane blades in order to successfully fit any random shape
one might purchase. If one of the right size is not available he will
have to commission a blacksmith to make one for him . Of course this
implies finding a smith and hoping he is skilled enough to perform the
chore. The first step in grinding a replacement iron is to select a cutter
which is wide enough to accommoda te the shape of the moulding. This
means both the width and depth. If the blade is an antique one it may
have already seen so much use that it lacks sufficient metal in either
one of these directions . Also, since it was salvaged from another plane
the moulding it used to cut may interfere with its new purpose. If
these factors have all been considered and the blade satisfies them .
the craftsman may begin.
As was true of bench plane irons, blacksm iths were equally as
frugal in the use of steel when forging the cutters for mouldin g planes.
The restorer must first determine which side of the blade is hardened
and which is only soft wroug ht iron. The side with the bezel is soft,
but since this will be ground away it is best to identify the steel. Many
irons were marked by the edged fool enterprises which manufactured
them. Makers normally stamped their names on 'the tang above the
steel. If this device is not present the craftsman will have to do some
thing else, such as applying a daub of paint.
Now the blade is laid steel side down on the work bench. The toe
of the moulding plane is placed on it. In this way the two can be ad
justed to the position the cutter and its tang will take when mounted
in the tool. The outline of the moulding c an be scratched into the soft
iron with a hardened scribe. This produces an indelible guide which
can be followed during the grinding process.
Anyone who thinks he may h ave to occasionally regrind a mould
ing plane cutter should have on hand the stones which will be neces
sary. The average grinding wheel is too wide and too coarse. I prefer to
use a small wheel made with one of the fine modern abrasives that
are slower cutting although more inclined to burn. This task is a deli
cate one and he who wishes to rush it will fail. To accommodate the
narrow and often deep shapes which a moulding plane iron must hG\ve ,
the j ob requires grinding wheels which are as narrow as possible. It is
best to own several. One should be carefully dressed , so as to afford a
sharp right angle necessary for reaching into the square stops called
fillets. These separate the simple forms which have been combined to
make up a complex moulding. Another wheel should have distinctly
round edges. This one will be u sed for cutting the concave sections of
hollows and reverse curves.
Using a combination of these wheels the restorer first grinds the
blade to conform to the outline scratches on the iron side of the cutter.
It is too early to be concerned with the bezel. The first project is to
achieve the desired shape. The metal must be quenched regularly in a
bucket of water. Any more than two passes risks blueing the iron ,
which means that the temper has been drawn out of it. The process is
a slow one and th:e craftsman may be tempted to use a faster cutting
wheel. But remember, when the blade is finally ground to shape it
must have a smooth, polished outline if it is to produce a sharply de
fined moulding. A coarse wheel will cut too fast and does not afford
the same control over the development of the curve as does the
smoother one. Also the faster cutting stone produces a ragged edge
which must later be removed by refining on a smooth wheel. It is
worthwhile to proceed with the assurance of the slower process rather
than risk botching the j ob .
Eventually the desired outline will be achieved and the restorer
can concern himself with the bezel. It is at this point that the caution
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The bezel of a moulding plane

cutter mirrors the outline of the
edge. This complex form shows
why the woodworker who may
occasionally need to regrind an
iron should own a selection of
either fine wheels or good files .

taken to identify the steel side of the blade will pay off. The grinding
process has removed the scratched outline and if the maker's stamp
is not present both sides appear very much alike. Some difference in
color m ay be discern able. The steel may retain a sheen while the
wrought iron has taken on its typical dark patina. However, the wood
worker who took the time to mark the steel side is spared this con
fusion.
A flat bezel similar to what would occur on a bench plane iron
cannot be put on a moulding cutter. Any fillets or other natural stops
must appear in the bezel or otherwise the shape will gradually dis
appear as the edge is honed. This means that the heel of the bezel will
describe the same outline as the sharpened edge. When examined the
edge and the heel produce a set of two parallel outlines with the bezel
in between.
The craftsman may wonder how tool makers were able to perform
this irksome chore before the invention of the electric grinding wheel.
The answer is that they were spared the need to mind their temper.
Moulding plane irons were purchased by plane makers from edge tool
enterprises in a state called a "soft blank. " In other words the steel
w as untempered and much easier to grind. An extremely complex
moulding and its bezel could be wrought with a file. Once the work
man had completed the outline on the soft bank it was turned over to

the smith who hardened the steel. The modern woodworker who does
not wish to observe the time consuming process I have described can
remove the temper from the cutter by heating it and allowing it to
slowly cool. Now the edge can be worked more easily. However, unless
he knows how to reharden the steel he will h ave to find a smith who
can do it for him.
I have recounted the method I use to successfully regrind a
moulding cutter. I am sure there are w ays which other woodworkers
prefer. I know of one who shapes his contour by using a h and held
grinder, the type that looks like an electric tooth brush. He then
finishes his bezel on the bench grinder. Any w ay the job is done it is
tedious.
No matter which technique the craftsman used to regrind the
edge, when it is completed the iron should be fitted into the plane prior
to any honing. The cutter ' is set in the same manner as would be
done when the iron is being adj usted for use. The woodworker sights
down the plane bottom from toe to heel. The edge he sees rising from
the throat must conform perfectly to the outline of he sole. If i t does
not produce a curve which is perfectly parallel to the bottom of the
plane more grinding is necessary in order to achieve this essential re
sult. The edge of the cutter must be everywhere equidistant from the
shape of the sole . When this is obtained the iron can be honed and a
practice moulding run off.
There is one other defect experienced by moulding planes which
was not covered e arlier. The reason for this is that the problem is
associated with regrinding iron rather than with choking or j umping
off the board. The woodworker m ay occasionally purchase a plane
which appears to be in good condition, requiring only a honing before
it is put to use. At first the plane cuts well. However, after several
passes the action comes to a halt. The tool feels as if the plane has
reached the stop but the moulding is only partially developed. This is
caused by a low point on the edge of the iron. When the woodworker
sights along the sole he c an see that one spo t ; usually the apex of a
curve is too shallow. This occurs because that area of the blade re
ceives more wear when the plane is in use. The immediate reaction is
to set the iron for a deeper cut. However, this seldom works since the
resulting chip is thicker. It chokes the throat and c auses the wood to
tear. The only w ay around this problem is to regrind the contour of
the cutter. This is nearly as much nuisance as regrinding the iron al
together. However, there is no other cure.
As delicate and even difficult as moulding planes m ay be , the
ability to use them properly is near the summit of the skills a wood-
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worker m ay achieve. Perhaps such demanding capabilities as cutting

blind dovetails are all that surpass the prowess of the woodworker who
successfully uses these antique tools in the everyday practice of his
craft. Of course there are several ways in which one can avoid mould
ing planes or substitute for them, but none is satisfying or deserving
of any merit. The first is to simply not use any mouldings at all. How
ever, this method is inconceivable since it freezes the woodworker's
abilities at the most fundamental level. He could always use stock
mouldings. But this is also limiting, and what mention does one de
serve who lets machines and others do the most difficult tasks for him ?
The development of the router and its resulting miniaturization
allows modern woodworkers to make their own mouldings. There also
exist shapers and special blades for table saws which chew out decora
tive bands. However, anyone can use these power tools with immediate
success. Consequently, one feels no urge to compliment a workman
who is limited by his machines. They have only democratized the skills
he should have learned through practice and discipline.
Among serious craftsmen the need to be able to make mouldings
and the desire to do it themselves have created a sizeable demand for
such obsolete combination planes as the Stanley 45 and 55. There are
also a number of others available on today's market. However, as is
true of most combination tools these planes with their interchangeable
cutters are able to do a j ob whose results are ( in the most charitable
terms ) only acceptable. No combination tool ever performs well. The
sum of their abilities never equals even that of one good tool which was
designed for a specific purpose. One simple bead moulding plane is
worth more than an entire combination plane.
The most common complaint about these tools is that they lack
a sole and do not hold themselves well on the work. Of course complex
moulding s are out of the question when using a plane which does not
h ave a contoure d sole. For this reason a combina tion plane is only
one step above a scratch tool in worth. A friend recently set aside in
disgust the Stanley 55 he had so eagerly sought and had so dearly paid
for. He asked me why I though t so many of these tools were still
availab le in their origina l boxes with all their cutters present and show
ing so very little wear. Of course , the questio n was rhetorical. I knew
as well as he that the origina l purcha sers of these planes quickly dis
covere d that they do not work well and retired them to a shelf to
gather dust in antici pation of the day when Man's forget fulnes s would
bring about their revival.
There is an altern ative to comb inatio n plane s. These are the
mode rn wood en moul ding plane s being imported from Europe and
Moulding Planes 121
sold by tool distributors. They are manufactured by the s ame firms

who make the modern wooden bench planes available through the s ame
outlets. Although these tools will do the j ob in a manner that is much
more satisfactory than all the other possibilities listed thus far, they
also have their drawbacks. First, they are only available in a limited
number of sizes and shapes. There is not yet sufficient demand for
them to warrant producing complete ranges of gradu ated sets with an
ample selection of complex forms. Seconds, these planes do not look
good. Like all other modern products the designers who latched onto
the idea of reviving moulding planes had to express themselves in he
twentieth century ideal. These tools are heavy, the wedge is only rudi
mentarily shaped and they lack any attempt at artistic expression . Of
course they are mass produced and this limits any desire the manu
facturer may have to produce a well conceived tool . I have not yet
used one , but the few people I know who have h ad the opportunity
complain that they are cranky. This is to be expected in view of the
fact that the men who produce them and the designer who made the
blueprint could not draw on the experience of a heritage. They are a
revival tool and some time will be required before all the nu ances
known to old plane makers have been rediscovered. Consequently, the
woodworker who selects these as an alternative is not only deprived of
the pleasure of working with a handsome tool ; he must settle for one
that still has not had all the kinks worked out. The irony of the situa
tion is that he will pay more for one of these modern copies. The
market value of antique planes has n ot yet universally exceeded the
cost of these new tools , although this will eventually occur.
There remains only one method of making mouldings that is
worthy of consideration by the serious craftsman who is proud of his
skills and their results. As is true of all hand tools any attempt to avoid
them debases the workman because he either has to accept inferior
results or rely on machines which even the most green of novices can
use equally well. A craftsman who relies on antique moulding planes
is never tormented by these compromises. He knows that he possesses
a skill shared by few of his contemporaries and in one more way links
himself to the proud art of woodworking as it was practiced during its
finest hour.
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e Cl a ur ose ane s
Prior to the invention of belt sanders, balloon sanders , routers,

shapers , table saws and other machines with all their possible attach
ments, woodworkers relied on a variety of special purpose planes to
perform the tasks that have since been taken over by these powered
tools. The function of each of these was so specialized that they have
little in common with each other, a situation that was not so with
bench and moulding planes. The only thing they all share , other than
that ancient woodworkers depended on them heavily, is the fact that
e ach is a member of the plane family. For that reason a separate
chapter h as been set aside to discuss their importance in pre-industrial
woodworking.
As was true of most planes made before the Industrial Revolution
these special tools were wooden. When purchasing any of these, the
modern craftsman should first examine them for the same possible
defects as the planes discussed in the last two chapters. The points to
consider are the stock and the iron, since both are as prone to damage
and wear as are those of bench or moulding planes. Some special
purpose tools have moving parts and other fixtures not associated
with the wooden planes discussed this far. The reader should be care
ful to inspect these in order to determine that what he buys can be
restored.
A loose classification of these planes is possible and we will use it
to give some structure to what would otherwise be a disjointed explana
tion. As was stressed in discussin g hollows and rounds early crafts
men, especially cabinetmakers, approached some of their work from
1 22

Special Purpose Planes 1 23
the point of view of sculpture. There was no other means for forming
free standing, three dimensional feature s , such as the cabriole leg

which is associated with the Queen Anne and Chippendale furniture
styles. In order to create a detail in the round ( other than those which
could be turned on a l athe ) the craftsman shaped i t out of solid wood.
To do this he relied heavily on his skill, honed by years of apprentice
ship and practice.
Working in the same way as would a sculptor, he firs t s awed his
project to a rough outline or hewed it to this point with an axe , adze ,
gouge or other preliminary tool . From here he was dependent on a
number of more delicate shaping instruments which allowed him to
gradually free his creation from the wood that imprisoned it. He had
no precision , no mechanical assurance. His success in symmetry or
duplication depended entirely on his abilities. Four c abriole legs for a
highboy must vary so little that the viewer's eye is not able to detect
the difference. Also, the effort required to produce in wood a three
dimensional form involving numerous curves means that the crafts
man will have to work multitudinous areas of end grain. He therefore
needed special tools, e ach h aving a sole and mouth so that it would
shave and not tear.
However, the very same man, working on the very same project
might also own a number of planes whose functions were much more
mechanical. These tools produced for him cuts whose width and
depth were predetermined by sole s , fences and stops. For example , the
cabinetmaker who sculpted the cabriole legs for the highboy mentioned
above would also need to plow uniform grooves in the sides of the
drawers. The bottoms would be fiitted into these. For this and several
other special purposes the craftsmen used the planes which fall into
the second c ategory.
Our imaginary highboy is a good device for this discussion, since
nearly every special purpose plane mentioned in this chapter could
be used in its manufacture. Of course, the reader should by no means
infer that these instruments were limited to only these functions. All
were general purpose tools and their use was common to many wood
working trades and crafts.
After the cabinetmaker has s awn out the rough form of his
cabriole legs he begins to round the project with a draw knife or
perhaps a wide gouge. Eventually, he will reach a stage where he
begins his final shaping. A t this point he must be able to shave the
hardwood ( probably mahogany or walnut, but even m aple ) as this
process produces a smooth surface , free of the marks left by more
coarse tools. The craftsman now reaches for a shave.
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Left: The shave was an important tool to the chairmaking industry, since
many parts such as chair seats were sculpted from solid wood . A small
shave is being used to round the front and form the pommel that is so
typical of Windsor chairs. Right: A larger shave is used to smooth the
end grain on the back of this shield shaped seat. Normally either a
smoothing or a mitre plane would do the job. However, this seat h as
a tail piece that will be fitted with two additional spindles to brace the
back. A tool with a long sole such as a plane would not be able to work
in the tight corner made by the tail.
What he selects is a small wooden plane-type tool with handles

that extend like wings from the actual working surface. This is the
same instrument a wheelwright would call a spoke shave, but its use
in pre-industrial woodworking was so diverse that it is unfair to
confine this dextrous little tool to one purpose. Even more so, it is
unj ust to call it a spoke shave since this implies that it had a limited,
mundane function. Cousins, and even twin brothers of this tool, used
by the wheelwright to round spokes were owned by nearly every crafts
man whose status ranged from the most base to the most elevated.
Anyone who has ever seen Duncan Phyfe's tool box, or at least a
photo of it, recalls that his shaves are prominently displayed in the
top tray. Phyfe is not known for having made wagon wheels. His
furniture was the best conceived and best made in Federal New York
City. His artistry with wood is so well known that he is perhaps the
only American cabinetmaker to have stamped his name indelibly on a
style of furniture. A master of Phyfe's ability would not place a seldom

used tool in the top tray where it would only be a nuisance. No, his
shaves were so positioned as to grant him quick access to them for they
were needed often.
We do not need to look much further for more evidence to prove
how indispensible the family of plane-like tools, called shaves, was to
pre-industrial woodworking. In 1 825, the same city where Phyfe
resided celebrated the opening of the New York canals. A gala parade
was staged and in it marched contingents of the various craft and
trade companies. Two hundred chairmakers were present representing
both the masters and their journeymen . Shaves were so integral to the
craft of chairmaking that one was represented on the banner of the
the Master Chair Maker's society. It was placed in a vertical position
overlapping a bit and brace , tools which one is inclined to consider
more immediately associated with the production of socketed chairs.
Shaves c ame in many different sizes , from only several inches
long to nearly a foot. They could be made even more versatile by
slightly curving the sole. This way a shave could reach into a hollowed
surface in order to remove the m arks left by less sophisticated edge
tools. Shaves were available in varying radii to accommodate crafts
men in as m any different circumstances as possible. Perhaps the least
known of these is the "travisher", another chairmaker's tool which is
so specialized that it was given its own n ame. The travisher is a shave
with a long radius so that the curve of its sole is quite shallow. Its two
handles extend upward , well out of the way of the work. The tool was
Another chairmaker's shave was so highly specialized that it earned its

own name. The travisher was a finish tool used on deeply saddled Windsor
chair seats.
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used to finish the solid pine seats of Windsor chairs as these were
deeply excavated or "saddled". The travisher was the finish tool which
cleaned up after the gutter adze and scorp.
Our cabinetmaker who is building the imaginary highboy would
use shaves to produce a finely tooled, or even a finished surface, on his
cabriole legs. They would also remove saw marks in the scrolls of a
fancy apron.
Wooden shaves are delicate tools but were called upon to do heavy
work. Consequently , they took a beating. The wooden sole was short
and friction quickly wore it out. A wooden patch could be made in
the s ame manner as is done with a bench plane but brass is more
commonly inserted to compensate for the speed with which the wood
wears away. Because of the small size and the narrow sole i t is easy to
chisel a mortice to receive the patch. The novice will find that re
storing a shave is much easier than making the same correction on a
bench plane.
A shave's cutter reflects the shape of its sole . This means that it is
much wider than deep. Consequently , honing quickly takes its toll, and
reduces the width of the iron, eventually even wearing it out. This is
a matter of concern for the craftsman who would like to use a shave.
Before buying one he must check its bottom. Considerable steel should
remain in the cutter. Its edge should fit tightly against the sole or
patch , creating a narrow mouth. Shaves are only cousins to planes but
they require the same considerations in order to function properly.
If a plane iron has been expended by too much grinding, the
woodworker can replace it with a salvaged antique blade. Modern plane
cutters will not do since they are not as thick as the old and do not
taper. Therefore , the wedge will not hold a new iron in the same way
as it does an original. This is not the case with shaves. As long as the
two tangs are the correct distance apart a modern cutter will work
just as well.
A shave needs to be adj usted to the thickness of the chip it will
cut. This is done by tapping the ends of the two tangs. Be careful to
strike each equally, as the blade might cock and the resulting pressure
could conceivably split its body. Eventually, the movement of the t angs
back and forth through their corresponding holes will wear the wood.
Since they are held in place by a friction fit this means that when the
tool is used the loosened cutter will pull out of adj ustment. This fault
can be easily corrected by placing a wooden sliver in the holes to act
as shims. Or, the blade may be secured in another way. Two holes are
drilled into the stuff at a right angle to the tangs. In each of these the
craftsman places a set screw which when tightened constricts the cut
ter. There are disadvantages to this method. One needs to use a screw

Shaves and scrapers look so much alike that antique dealers sometimes mis
take the latter for the similar, although unrelated, tool . A selection of
various shaves is contrasted with two scrapers. The dagger like instrument
that separates them is a burnisher. It forms a burr on the flat scraper blade
such as the one shown below it.
driver to adj ust the tool which takes much more time. Also, the metal
threads eventually wear the wood that surrounds them.
The bezel side of a shave blade is already hollowed so that little
grinding ever needs to be done. This was foresight on the part of the
tool maker who knew that grinding would quickly reduce the width of
the cutter. Because of this hollow a light honing will quickly restore an
edge. Very seldom is it necessary to regrind. Of course , honing ( coupled
mth the fact that any craftsman usu ally holds his tools in a single
position ) will eventually wear a depression in the edge. The restorer
needs a grinding wheel to remove the irregularity, but the cutter is so
fine that he must do it j udiciously.
Shaves are small and one can use them by either pushing or
pulling. This is a distinct advantage since they often have to reach
into tight corners. Because they are so light the woodworker needs
to exert pressure to keep them on the work and to prevent chatter. This
can be supplied by the weight of his own torso. Of course , like any
other plg.ne a shave will dig if run into a rising grain . Since these tools
are often worked on irregular surfaces , the craftsman must be con
tinually conscious of this.
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There is another tool which looks so much like a shave that

dealers are prone to innocently misrepresent i t as such. This is the
scraper and it is logical to include it here since its use in woodworking
very often follows its look-alike. Scraping is a technique that is
threatened with extinction . I t is unknown in a mechanized shop and
is unappreciated by all but the most discerning craftsmen. Rather than
sand paper the scraper is the finish tool meant to be used on hard
woods. However, its concept is so close to that of planes it is included
in this discussion of them.
The reader will remember that bench and moulding planes in
tended for hardwood had their irons set at a steep pitch which was
said to cut with an action that closely approximated scraping. This
extreme position of the iron is the clue to distinguishing a shave
from a scraper. The cutter of the first tool is set very low when in
use , nearly parallel to the surface of the wood. This is the reason why
i t works so well on end grain. However, when used along the grain
this action invites the wood to lift and tear. The craftsman must
remain ever mindful of the problem. On the other hand , the blade of
a scraper is placed perpendicular to its stock. Its edge is so near the
right angle that even if accidentally worked into the end grain it only
c auses the wood fibres to fuzz and it will quickly clean up its own error.
Unfortunately, this cannot be said of most planes. As a finish tool the
scraper has no equal . It works so quickly and so well that he who has
used one never again bothers to apply a belt sander to hardwood.
The wooden stock of an antique scraper seldom needs any work.
The tool is so simple that it is difficult to do it damage. However, its
blade is sharpened in a unique manner and this deserves some atten
tion. The cutting edge of a scraper does not h ave a bezel as would a
bench plane or other smoothing tool. Instead , it is given a sharp burr.
This feature is achieved by either grinding or filing a tiny, but per
fectly square edge on the side of the blade. This edge is dressed with a
good stone, one of the same quality that would be used to hone a
bezel. The woodworker must be certain to achieve an edge that is so
correct it would still appear that way even under a strong magnifying
glass. Creating this effect requires practice. The novice should not
despair too q uickly, for the advantages of a scraper make it worth the
effort required to learn to sharpen one.
Next, an alarming thing is done to the square edge which was only
obtained after so much effort. An extremely hard and polished steel
tool called a burnisher is placed on the edge and is run back and forth
while applying considerable pressure. This is meant to actually deform
the perfection which was so carefully achieved. Microscopically, the
force rounds over the square edge forming a razor sharp burr. If the
process is repeated on the opposite side two burrs are produced and
I _
when one becomes dull the blade is reversed to take advantage of this
reserve.
The sharpened blade is then returned to its stock. Usually, it is
pressed against the throat by a block which is secured to the body
with two screws. As these are tightened they pinch the blade into a
predetermined position. No more edge should appear above the sole
than would be seen on a smoothing plane. Otherwise , the scraper will
remove a chip that is too coarse. The tool's size makes i t versatile and
the craftsman has the option of either pulling i t toward him or pushing
away. As i t moves tissue thin shavings climb straight up the vertical
throat. The chip is so fine that a good scraper will not tear even curly
or bird's eye maple. Too often, cabinetmakers grind this irascible wood
with belt s anders when this quiet little precision tool would give them
superior results. Because the scraper has such a short sole it can be
used on rounded surfaces as well as on curves. In either of these
places the clumsy, aggressive belt sander would endanger the work.
Another function of the scraper will be mentioned anon when a special
purpose plane which works in conjunction with it is discussed.
If a woodworker needs to plane a curved surface he may want to
use a shave , but this tool is so light that it will chatter on the end
grain of very h ard wood. If the area is open enough to afford access for
a larger, more persuasive instrument then the craftsman might want
to rely on a compass plane.
The way in which this tool was commonly shaped makes it look
very much like a block plane with its sole worked to a radius that runs
through the length of the stock. Indeed, I h ave seen some shallow
compass planes which did appear to be a result of this metamorphosis.
However, this was a very common teol for shaping and smoothing
concave areas and large quantities were produced by plane m akers.
Like the shave, the compass plane is most often associated with the
wheelwright whose used i t to smooth the insides of felloes , as the curved
wooden sections which m ake up a wheel rim are c alled. However, our
cabinetmaker might conceivably use one on his highboy to dress the
concave surfaces of a broken pediment . A carpenter or j oiner placing
this architectural device over a chimney breast or doorway would use
the tool in the same manner. A chairmaker would use a compass plane
in the w ay that is illustrated in the photograph. The tool is also handy
for forming a curved arm.
COI)lpass planes tend to experience much wear just before the
mouth. Consequently, the sole often needs to h ave a patch placed in
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Left: The compass plane has a short stock and its sole is worked to a radius.
It is used to smooth hollows such as the underside of the front of this
Windsor chair seat. Right: The fork staff was called a spar plane by ship
wrights who used it to make masts. For the cabinetmaker it was a large hol
low moulding plane and with it the chairmaker rounded bows. Later this
piece of ash will be bent to form the back of a continuous arm Windsor.
it. A reader who wishes to restore one of these tools does so in the
same manner as with a short bench plane. Many compass planes even
take a double iron and a replacement may be salvaged from the same
sources from which one obtains all other antique tool parts.
A compass plane requires a small amount of practice to use. It is
inclined to chatter on hard wood and must be held with determination.
It works best in short, sure strokes and a razor edge must be m ain
tained to work at all.
The next special purpose plane included in the category of shap
ing tools also looks as if it were an alteration. And, indeed they some
times are. This plane is called a fork staff by carpenters, joiners and
cabinetmakers. It is referred to as a spar plane by the boatwright. In
appearance the tool is a smoothing plane with a hollow sole. However,
if a particular fork staff is the result of such an alteration its mouth will
Special Purpose Planes 131
be malformed. When the bottom was made concave the surface of the
new sole extended up into the throat c avity. This enlarged the orifice
'
and means that the mouth is now gaping at the apex of the hollow
sole, but tapers down to i ts original width at its edges. When a tool
maker fashioned a fork staff he left plenty of wood in his plane's
throat so that the hollow of the sole did not open the mouth. This is
important since the widened orifice invites the wood to tear. The
modern craftsman who stumbles onto one of these converted planes
ought to leave it where it was found.
The boatwright used his spar plane to round masts. However, if
this sea going tool was a weasel on water it became an ermine on
land. For c abinetmakers and j oiners the fork staff was a large hollow
which could sculpt out round mouldings, too large for their other
planes. Windsor chairmakers found this tool handy for shaping bows
which were later bent to m ake up the backs of their chairs. The wheel
wright used a fork staff to shape spokes . The tool is very handy for
making sledge and maul handles as well.
Because the u se of fork staves transcended the confines of many
trades and crafts they were used on both hard and soft wood. Con
sequently, they are found with blades set at the common pitch as well
as those which are more steep. When the woodworker buys one of
these planes he should have his own needs in mind.
The fork staff is used like a hollow moulding plane , but it is held
like a smoothing plane. There is no real secret to its use, but the
craftsman must be sure to work it over the entire curve of the round
he is fashioning, since if his mind wanders it is easy to end up with an
oval.
A group of special purpose planes. From right to left : A pair of fork staves,
a graduation of compass planes and two mitre planes .
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Left: The low pitch of the mitre plane iron ( thirty degrees ) makes this tool
ideal for cleaning up a sawn mitred joint. The clamp that holds the mould
ing is called a mitre j ack. By using this tool in conjunction with the
concommitant plane the cabinetmaker was able to produce perfect joints
for such critical projects as furniture cornices or mirror and picture frames.
Right: The mitre plane was specifically designed for shaving end grain.
Here it cleans the back of a Windsor chair seat. Since the tail piece is in
the way the curve must be finished with a shave.
As was true of the compass plane the fork staff iron is interchange
able with those of bench planes. It need only be of the proper width.
Little time or skill is required to regrind the edge as it simply conforms
to the shape of the sole.
When the woodworker who is buying antique tools for use in his
craft stumbles onto a mitre plane his first reaction may be that it is a
common smoothing plane with its iron set at a very low angle. Closer
examination ends the masquerade and determines which is skim milk
and which is cream. The stock of a mitre plane is generally longer,
more n arrow and about half as deep as the more common bench plane.
Also, i t seldom has a double iron. The cutter is set at about thirty
degrees so that it will be able to pare end grain. Its most common use
is implied by its name. For joiners and cabinetmakers it cleaned up a

sawn mitre. However, for working the end grain of either h ard or soft
wood this tool is up to the job.
The edge of this plane is maintained in exactly the same m anner

as those used for leveling on the bench. I t is ground square and honed
like a razor. Failure to attend to this l atter point would impair its
function.
Since a mitre plane is most often worked across short lengths of
wood its sole in inclined to wear just before the mouth. It regularly
needs to be trued and patched j ust as one would do with a bench plane.
By now the woodworker realizes why he should closely examine
all tools which at a distance appear to simply be smoothing planes.
Even dealers commonly mistake a compass, fork staff or mitre plane
for their more common look-alike. As a result the prices of these less
available planes remain low. This is to the advantage of the modern
craftsman who seeks these particular tools since he does not have to
compete with the market for them. However, with a toothing plane he
will not be so lucky . These are easily spotted by every dealer and they
are marked up drastically for one reason . The toothing plane appeals to
the fellow who w ants to decorate his desk or m antle with a wooden
tool. I t is a shame , because this in an important instrument to every
one who works figured wood or does veneering. The iron of the toothing
The toothing plane resembles a smoothing plane. However, its serrated iron
is set vertically in the stock.
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I
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I,.
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The toothing plane is essential

for working curly maple. In the

-
foreground the unscuffed wood
shows the periodic tears that oc

./

,
cur when a bench plane passes

;
.,. to ,
,
,

over the undulating grain of

'
.

'-y '
'1

. .t. this desirable but irascible

,
.....
....
' ..
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t wood. The center of the board

is clearly scratched by the tooth
..
ing plane. The tool has been
i worked in every direction in or
der to produce a heavy fuzz.
The surface in front of the

scraper has been smoothed by
that finishing instrument. This
shows the curl to its best ad
vantage.
plane, is set at, or very near ninety degrees. Rather than having a
razor edge as does a bench plane the front of its iron is serrated by
m any hair-like ridges that resemble whale baleen. When the tool is
run over a piece of wood these teeth make a set of fine parallel
scratches. If worked across the grain the tool produces a key which
was thought to assist glue in bonding veneer to the base wood .
However, this unusual tool has one other function which made it
indespensible to a good c abinetmaker. This craftsman often worked
various figured woods such as curley or bird's eye maple. These are
nearly impossible to plane to a finished surface since their grain is so
erratic. Rather than tear his hair when the smoothing plane tore
the grain the cabinetmaker worked the surface vigorously with a
toothing plane until the wood was completely and evenly scuffed. He
then used a good scraper to shave away the toothed fuzz. On curled
wood this technique produced a rippling finished surface which
accentuated the tiger grain.
It is not difficult for the reader to understand how dependent the
pre-industrial woodworker was on intuition and skill to use these
special purpose planes. He had no mechanical aids to predetermine for

I
,
.
..
Buzzy Dodge, restorationist

and joiner, forms a rabbet
with a moving llister.
him the results of a piece of wood worked with these tools. H e knew,
felt or s aw when things were right. He could tell when the j ob was
being performed correctly as much by how his tool was cutting as he
could by eyeing the finished work. The case is different with the
mechanical sp8cial purpose planes. These are ingeniously devised with
guides which allow him to cut j ust so. In fact, some of these planes
are so complex that one really has to m arvel at how well Man was able
to c arry to a rational conclusion the technology his time period allowed
him to work with.
One of the most common cuts a woodworker makes is the rabbet .
In the pre-industrial period this device was u sed to make ship lap
sheathing, drawer fronts with thumbnail edge s , simple c arcasses for
c ase work, picture frames as well as a host of other details in building
and furniture construction. A modern craftsman would cut a rabbet on
a table s aw or do it with a router. If asked how i t was done before the
invention of these machines the mechanical minded woodworker might
be puzzled. Certainly , he would be surprised at the ingenuity and
versatility of the tool which did the j ob : the moving, or adj ustable
fillister.
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"
Two different types of moving filisters flank a group of skewed rabbets.
This seemingly awkward plane with all its attachments looks more
like one of Rube Goldberg's nightmares than the precision instrument
which i t is. Not all rabbets were the same width and depth. Unless
the craftsman had access to a tool which was adjustable he had to
own all conceivable sizes. This was impractical. Consequently, the
plane which tool manufacturers developed was c apable of accom
modating any size woodworkers might need to make. This was done by
u sing an adj ustable fence to determine the width of the rabbet and an
adjustable depth gauge which set that dimension.
The fence on a fillister is really a separate piece of wood placed
over the sole and held by two screws set into two lateral slots. When
these screws are loosened the fence c an be slid back and forth exposing
the length of iron needed to cut the rabbet. When the desired width is
obtained the set screws are tightened and for the moment the fillister
has become just the right size tool the craftsman needs.
The adjustable sole or depth gauge is mounted on the inside face
of the plane body. It is usually made of brass and slides in a groove cut
for it. It is also held in position by a screw. As each successive cut
lowers the plane into the rabbet the depth gauge comes closer and
closer to the face of the board. Eventually it rides on it like the stop of
a moulding plane and terminates the cutting action.
These two features would be all that was necessary if rabbets were
only run along the grain , but as often as not they must also be cut

across it. Everyone who has used a h and plane is aware of the difficul-
ties of working across the grain. The wood fibres chip and tear, choking
the plane. For this reason the iron of the moving fillister is set askew.
This means that the mouth of the tool is not a right angle to the sole
and consequently the iron must be shaped like a parallelogram instead
of a rectangle. The effect looks and works like a guillotine and its
action is called a skew cut. Instead of lifting all the fibres at once the
leading edge snips those on the inside allowing the trailing section to
shave away wood which has already been severed. This eliminates
much tearing.
However, as extra assurance against this difficulty the moving
fillister has a knife mounted alongside the depth g auge. This blade is
secured in a vertical position and is sharpened only on its lowest ex
treme. Its action takes place j us t before the blade. As the tool is run
across the grain this knife scribes a fine line and neatly slices the wood
fibers loose from the rest of the board. The skew cutter which is follow
ing closely behind only needs to shave wood that is already free. The
result is a rabbet that is neat and clean.
Anyone who is experienced with antique wooden planes will recog
nize the moving fillister described and illustrated here as an e arly nine
teenth century product. He is correct in wondering if such elaborate
tools were available earlier. The idea was developed during the eigh
teenth century but not refined. Moving fillisters were made ; however, the
fence was usually mounted on two arms which were fitted into
mortices that pierced the plane's body. The whole affair looked very
much like an outrigger c anoe. The depth gauge was a simple wooden
post extending down through the center of the s tock and was some
times held in place by a wooden thumb screw.
The wondrous adj ustable fillister which became available in the
nineteenth century had an even earlier ancestor which curiously con
tinued to be made as long as wooden planes were in general m anufac
ture. These are c alled skew rabbets. Such a plane has a simple rectan
gular stock wi th no elaboration whatsoever. They come in different
widths, as one might assume was necessary before the development of
the fillister. Some are equipped with a side mounted knife for snipping
wood fibers when working across grain , but more often than not this
detail is eliminated. One feature the modern craftsman will quickly
notice is that when the shaVing discharges from a skew rabbet the chip
is thrown off the bench inste ad of onto it. This is because the plane has
-
what is c alled a left handed throat. This is a nicely formed circular
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The skewed rabbet produces
a unique baloney curl.
detail and it produces an even chip that rolls up like a long b aloney
curl. These shavings fascinate children and whenever I make them ,
youngsters who are visiting the museum clamor for one to take home .
Prior to the development of the fillister a straight edge was either
clamped or tacked on the face of the board where the rabbet was to be
formed . Although this method was clumsy it determined the width of
the cut. Assumedly a scribe line was marked along the edge so that the
woodworker could roughly regulate the depth.
As the fillister developed the imprecise rabbet did not go out of
style, for the express reason that it was not as mechanical. It could be
used to do b asic shaping and was very handy for quick cross and end
grain work. I t will shoot short j oints and its skew edge treats erratic
grain with more command than does a cutter placed at a right angle.
A small skew rabbet is even a handy tool for clean up following the
moving fillister. This small plane will smooth any roughness left by the
l arger. Hence, like the block plane a simple skew rabbet has numerous
functions and these prevented it from retreating before the popular
moving fillister.
If one finds a fillister which needs repair or restoration he should
p ass it by. These tools are not at all uncommon , probably because

nearly every j oiner, carpenter and cabinetmaker needed one. Even Ben
H aley, a simple country woodwprker whose selection of tools was quite
limited, had one in his box. To completely strip and rework one of these
planes is more effort than it is worth. On the other h and, a skew rabbe t
c an be e asily restored. Their soles must be maintained, but since their
stocks are short and n arrow they are e asily reworked by an inverted
j ointer plane . Truing does open the mouth and like any other plane the
orifice of a skew r abbet should never be any wider than the thickes t
chip i t allows to pass. Setting a patch into one of these planes is much
easier to do than on a bench plane. The mouth has no cheeks and ex
tends from one side of the stock to the other, making it very accessible.
Grinding a replacement iron or regrinding one which has been
been honed out of shape is a little more difficult than it is to sharpen
a cutter for a bench plane . The blade is a parallelogram and not a
rectangle. Therefore , one c annot check the edge with a try square to
insure that i t is correct. Instead , this is done by placing the iron in the
plane and sighting down the sole to determine whether one side or the
other is too high. Any irregularity in the edge is then adj usted on the
bench grinder.
There is another special purpose plane that regularly worked
across grain and consequently i t looks somewhat like the skew rabbet.
I t is called a b anding plane. The two tools should not be confused as
their purposes are quite different. While the first cuts a r abbet the
second will , in a very mechanical way, produce a shallow cross grained
groove called a d ado. This cut is used to house and support the end
of another board. It must be precise since the j oint i t forms needs to
fit tightly on three surfaces. Dados were commonly u sed in m aking
shelves. One also finds them in c arcass construction as well as in
desks and secretaries to m ake pigeon holes and drawer dividers.
B anding planes were available in graduated sets ranging from one
eighth to an inch. Modern interior j oiners who are called on to build
cupboards and shelves will find the seven eighths plane one of the
most h andy. This is the average thickness of a rough sawn one inch
board after i t has been hand planed . He who uses milled lumber will
want to own the three quarter inch plane instead. C abinetmakers will
conceivably u se at least several different sizes : one eighth, for fine in
terior work; three eighths for l arger and seven eighths bec ause they
too work with inch board.
Like the fillister the b anding plane has to m ake some provision
for depth, but this is the only adjustment required. The iron and sole
already determine the width of the dado. The best quality b anding
plane h a s a brass thumb screw set into the top of its stock and this
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is threaded into an adj ustable metal sole. A first attempt to work this
device may surprise the inexperienced, for the sole is lowered by
turning the screw counter clockwise and the n atural reaction is to ex
pect the opposite. Tool makers did produce a common form of this
plane. The depth gauge on a less elaborate example has only a sliding
wooden post which is pinched at the desired setting by a wooden thumb
screw.
Because a banding plane was most often worked across the grain
its iron is set askew. Like the rabbet plane i t resembles, it also has a
left hand throat. In the plane's bottom, just ahead of the mouth, is
another opening. From it protrude two scribes, instead of just one as
on the skew rabbet. This is because the b anding plane m akes a cut
across the board and not along its edge. Consequently, wood fibres
need to be snipped on both sides of the sole.
This plane has no fence and some provision for controlling it must

be made by the craftsmen before it is used. The easiest and quickest

w ay is to lay out the cut with a square and then clamp a straight edge
along it. This acts as the fence when the plane is pressed against it.
The action of these tools is usually very good. The chips are no more
than short lengths of fiber instead of continuous shavings as would be
obtained by running a plane along a board . Those cut from a dado do
not curl. They sort of compress and fall out of the w ay.
A graduation of banding planes. The first two are "best" while the others
are common .
" "

Buzzy Dodge makes the end of

an adjustable book case, cutting
the dadoes with a seven-eighths
banding plane. Notice the dis
tinct chip that results from
shaving cross grain . Before
starting the cut one of these
planes is dragged backwards
across the board. The two
scribes cut all the fibres in the
surface. This prevents any tear
ing from taking place during
the first cutting pass.
B anding planes are often found in good condition, probably be

c ause they were only used for this one purpose. Their most common
flaw is a missing scribe , and these are a bother to regrind. Although
they look like a narrow moulding plane iron they do not taper as much.
I h ave made them out of old files which h ave had the temper t aken
out for ease in working. Later, the scribing end c an be rehardened. One
One must realize that these two tiny knives are sharpened from the
inside and never from without. To do so reduces the width between the
scribes. The plane's cutter will then tear the grain instead of excavat
ing i t from the path established by the two knives it follows. The
craftsmen who originally owned these tools knew this, but their
descendents were often ignorant of how to maintain their planes. It
is common to find the scribes already ground over. Since this was
usually done on a bench grinder, too much metal h as often been re
moved to ever restore them. This flaw c an be reason enough to turn
down a common banding plane. In the event that the craftsman feels
it can be corrected with a reasonable amount of effort he might c all
the damage to the attention of the dealer and request that he recon
sider his price.
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The lament of banding planes is the same as that of all pre

industrial tools. As Hyder would have put it, "If their fate was not
disuse than that use was misuse ." If these planes man aged to escape
the damage and destruction wrought by people who did not care about
them, then they were stored where they eroded with time and corro
sion. Rust works on more than just the iron. The screw mechanism for
the adj ustable sole is also susceptible. If this is not functioning i t can
be taken apart and cle aned. The two screws which hold the brass
thumb piece in place must first be removed.
The movement of the adj ustable sole might be tight on a plane
which is otherwise very clean. This is a result of the linseed oil that
w as wiped on the tool by an early user. It seeped into the mechanism
and coagulated. If necessary the metal parts can be cleaned and should
then be lightly lubricated with a thin petroleum based oil.
When a dado runs with the grain it is called a groove. However, a
groove usually differs in that its depth is greater than its width. Grooves
were used in many places in both furniture and building interiors. The
first that one thinks of is door and raised panel construction. As is true
of rabbets and dados the grooves a woodworker needed to make varied
in width and depth. But more importantly, they often needed to be
formed as much as several inches from the edge of the board . In order
to foresee and prepare for all conceivable situations, a craftsman would
need to own numerous grooving planes of various sizes. Indeed, early
craftsmen put up with just this situation. However, the refinement and
improvement that was made possible in a craft by the continuity of its
heritage was inevitable. Eventually, plane makers , stimulated by the
complaints of their customers and possibly even working in conj unc
tion with them, developed a solution . This versatile grooving tool is
called a universal or adj ustable plow.
This plane is designed to accept a graduation of eight different
plow irons and has a movable fence which is mounted outrigger-like
on two arms. These fit in through mortices cut in the plane's stock. On
early and later common universal plows this fence was positioned by
key type wedges. However, gradual improvements introduced the use
of wooden adjustment nuts and threaded arms. This feature made the
selection of a desired setting much quicker and more sure.
The size of the iron determined for the craftsman the width of the
groove. However, like the fillister and the banding plane a universal
plow required a depth gauge. A simple sliding wooden post was used on
common and early examples. Later, plane makers included the same
mechanism they used on their best banding planes with their better
models of adjustable plows.
A selection of universal plows. The solid boxwood tool on the right belonged
to Ben H aley. I ts graduation of irons are fanned beside it. The beech plane
to the right is the "common" tool. I ts fence is held in adjustment by wedges.
One is led to think that these tools were held in high regard. Plane
makers did offer for sale a line of common adjustable plows at lower
prices. These were usually made of beech. However, their best exam
ples were produced from such exotic materials as box and rosewood.
Ivory was used to make adj ustment nuts and chip proof tips for the
threads. Complex mouldings decorated the fence and ends of the arms
on these masterpiece tools. The whole plane was given a high gloss
finish of french polish . Plane makers m ay h ave been so proud of hav
ing brought their craft to this ultimate conclusion that they concen
trated all their skills and artistry on it. This suggestion may seem
strained , but if so, how else does one explain why these craftsmen
would lavish so much attention on one type of tool? I am unable to
think of anything else , with the possible exception of the English
Ultimatum bit brace, that seemed to fascinate tool m akers as much as
their deluxe universal plows.
A best grooving plane would have cost the pre-industrial crafts
man nearly a week's wage. We must assume that he who purchased
one was as proud of it as the plane maker himself. After all , a pre
industrial woodworker was known by his tools. A rosewood plow with
ivory nuts would have impressed his colleagues , but more so his cus
tomers. The most interesting tool in Ben H aley's box was his universal
_
plow. The rest of the contents were limited and common , but this one

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plane w as outstanding. I t is made of solid boxwood. He maintained all

his tools well, but this one was preserved in its own cloth bag along
with its complete set of irons. It was obviously his pride. And well i t
might be. I t had been very expensive to buy and when he worked with
i t the other tradesmen must have taken note.
I feel that Haley probably bought the plane at retail and did not
come into possession of it as a less expensive second hand tool. I t bears
no other n ame than his and the maker's. It was produced by G. W.
Denison and Co. in Winthrop, Connecticut and the working dates of
this firm coincide with H aley's. I suspect that Ben probably saved for
some time with the thought in mind of buying such a plane. The con
cern he evidenced by neatly storing it in its own bag indicate his feel
ings for it.
The problems suffered by most universal plows are a result of the
fact that Time is rough on anything which has many movable and
even more so, removable parts. Most of these planes have been sep
arated from their set of irons. Others have suffered damage to their
fences, arms, nuts or wedges. Perhaps no other type of plane that
regularly appears on the market consistently displays as much inj ury
as that which occurred to adjustable pows. This difficulty may be
traced expressly to the fact that they were so complex.
However, since many craftsmen needed adj ustable plows, many
were made and numerous examples have survived. Therefore, it is not
too difficult to find one. But besides being complex, even the most
common of these planes is also attractive. This an interesting contrast
to the moving fillister which is as equally involved in its concept but
which as a tool is really rather awkward in its appearance . As a result,
prices for these planes are comparatively low. On the other hand, the
demand for universal plows is brisk and their prices are usually high.
Plows are good tools to decorate a mantel. Guests are intrigued by
them and they make good conversation pieces. Consequently, many a
serviceable example ends up stimulating chatter at cocktail parties.
Still , they do occasionally surface at reasonable prices. I once bought
one which was floating in a bucket of water. It was at a flea market
on a stormy summer day. The rain had run off the tent and right into
the p ail. The price tag had soaked off the plane and not knowing what
she had w anted for it, the dealer parted with the tool for my suggested
pnce.

Anyone who wants to use a universal plow must be sure that the
arms and fence are intact and move properly. The fence should be
tight, for any movement interferes with the plane's ability to produce a
straight groove with even sides. The sole which controls the depth of
the cut should also work with ease. If i t is not severely d amaged this
mechanism c an be restored in the same m anner as one would do with

a banding plane.

Of course, the tool is useless without its irons and very few come
so equipped. Consequently, plow irons ( which are very distinctly
shaped ) are another thing the woodworker should have in mind when
looking for old tools. Odd cutters can always be picked up reasonably.
There is no need to worry about gathering a complete set by one manu
facturer as all will fit any plow. The irons are numbered one through
eight and range in size from three-sixteenths to five-eighths of an inch
wide. It is interesting that most of these blades bear the stamp of
English edge tool manufacturers. Only later American firms seem to
have made them.
U sing the universal plow is as simple as the moving fillister. All
the controls and devices that were mounted on one of these planes
keep i t right on the work. Very little practice is required to produce
excellent results.
The manufacture of tongue and groove boards was perhaps some
thing the reader thought of as a possible use for the adj ustable plow.
The universal plane is certainly capable of making the female of this
set, but the task was not mentioned because making tongue and groove
boards was not a j ob that the plane was ordinarily put to. The carpen
ter or interior j oiner relied on a pair of tools called match planes to
make this device. These are so named because lumber with the tongue
and grooved j oint on its edge is referred to as matched boards. This
j oint was used for making sheathed walls and batten doors. The tongue
fits tightly into the groove and is an excellent way to prevent gaps
from appearing as the boards shrink. This cuts down on the drafts
that would otherwise roar through a wall sheathed with boards that
were simply butted together.
A pair of match planes. The closed tote makes these examples more com
fortable to use than those which do not have that feature.
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A sash plane ( left ) and a sash fllister.
M atch planes always came in pairs. Sometimes the two functions

were incorporated into one awkward tool which h as the tongue on one
side and the groove on the other. The woodworker is advised to leave
such a plane for a collector who would be happy to own the more un
usual i tem. The individual m atch planes which come as a pair often
h ave a closed tote which was formed out of the same piece of wood as
the stock. This feature m akes them very comfortable to work with.
M atch planes are very simple to use and h ave no secrets. The
woodworker need only be careful to j oint a board before forming the
tongue and groove. This is one occasion where a craftsman is more
concerned with expediency than neatness. Consequently, the irons of
m atch planes can be set to make a deep cut. Since the joint is self
enveloping any roughness is invisible. These tools remove heavy tena
cious shavings and the long sinuous tentacles must be cleaned up
regularly or the woodworker finds them wrapping themselves around
his ankles. He will soon sympathize with the poor doomed Laocoon
and his unfortunate sons. If he is not cautious he can conceivably
trip and do himself injury.
The craftsman who would like to buy a pair of antique match
planes need only pay them the same heed he would any other wooden
bodied tool. Both should have always been together. A m arried set will
not bear the same owner's and marker's stamps.
These tools , as occurred with so m any other wooden planes, were
available in graduations. Since most woodworkers used them on one
inch boards a pair of seven eighths planes is the most desirable. The
m aker often stamped the size on the heel of the stock.

During the pre-industrial period much of the j oinery that was

used for building interiors waS available as ready made mill work. For
example, an urban housewright did not h ave his doors m ade up by
joiners working on the spot. In stead , he bought them from a shop
where they were produced in large quan tities. Jigs were set up. Jour
neymen and apprentices went about performing a succession of in
dividual tasks. Production in this manner amounted to rudimentary
mass production. The same was true of windows. S ash was also made
up as mill work. The principal tool used by a specialist in this division
of the woodworking industry was his s ash plane. This tool ran off the
moulding and the rabbet of the frame in one motion. It also cleverly
shaped the muntins. Because this plane was used by specialists one
would assume that it is quite rare. But this is not the c ase. Sash
planes are very common. C abinetmakers had to make muntins for
cupboard doors, but even the limited number needed to satisfy this
demand does not explain who so m any s ash planes exist. We must
accept this answer : Periodically most woodworkers needed to m ake
windows or irregular sizes for situations where standard mill work sash
would not fit. In anticipation of such an event each maintained a s ash
plane.
Windows are a fairly complex unit. M aking them requires con
siderable set up work since the same intricate j oints must be made
time and time again in a single section of sash. S till, the occasion
might conceivably arise when a modern woodworker m akin g cup
boards or restoring a house will have to m ake his own. In view of that
possibility he might want to own a sash plane.
When the sash fllister shown in the l as t photograph is disassembled it

clearly shows why a sash plane is no more than the m arriage of a small
skew rabbet and a moulding plane .
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Window styles evolved as did the houses they illuminated. Early

double hung sash was made with wide shallow muntins that were deco
rated with an ovolo. Federal period sash is more n arrow and deep. Resi
dents of Greek Revival and Victorian homes were allowed even more
variation. If the woodworker is aware of these changes in fashion he can
make some decision as to which sash plane ( or planes ) he will need.
B asically, one of these tools is a combination plane. It results
from the marriage of an ovolo ( or one of several other mouldings ) to
a n arrow skew rabbet. Indeed, it is reasonable to assume that when
double hung sash first became popular in the early eighteenth century
this was how the plane was made. The union is such an obvious one
that in no time some plane maker must have combined the two forms
into a single tool. The variant, which is conceivably a survival of this
e arly concept is the sash fillister. This plane is mounted on arms in a
fashion similar to that of the universal plow. This allows the owner to
make muntins of any width.
Five-quarter stock ( a board an inch and a quarter thick ) was
usually used to form the s ash frame. The plank was mounted edge up
in the vise and the sash plane worked down onto it. On the other hand,
inch board was used to make the muntins. After this stock had been
smoothed to seven eighths and j ointed i t was clamped face up on the
bench. Then the sash plane was run down the side making its cut on
the face of the board. When the moulding and rabbet were completely
formed the board was flipped over and the plane was run on the
Malcolm McGregor runs off the frame for a piece of sash. The window will
be fitted into an early eighteenth century house he is restoring.
opposite side. The result was a f.ully formed muntin attached by only
a thin spline. This was quick)y cut free with a rip saw. The board

would then be rejointed and another length of muntin run off. Each
time the moulding and its accompanying rabbet was made the stock
was turned over. There is no real trick to working one of these tools.
The fence is at a right angle and the plane is worked squarely against
the edge. The only difficulty one m ay experience results from the fact
that the tool is in essence two planes. There are two throats and this
doubles the possibility that one might get cranky and choke. However, I
have m ade a q u antity of sash with my plane and have not been ham
pered by this difficulty. The woodworker can be thankful that plane
m akers were very capable craftsmen and their tools generally per
formed well.
The last plane included in this chapter is another that would have
been commonly found in the shops that produced mill work. This is
the panel raiser and it is so called because it makes raised panels for
doors. However, in contrast to sash planes panel raisers are uncom
mon. This is one case where the craftsman who does traditional work
might w an t to bend a few rules. He should be willing to purchase one
of these planes even if it is missing its wedge or iron. I t is occasion to
be happy when he finds one that is even restorable. He shoulc;l be will
ing to pay much more for a panel raiser that is in working condition
than he would for a similar bench plane.
It is surprising that these tools are not more available. However,
their primary use outside of the shop that produced mill work would
have been to make raised panel w alls and feather edged sheathing.
However, both of these went out of style shortly before 1 80 0 . Con
sequently, after that date the average j oiner or cabinetmaker did not
need one. Since the chances of a tool's survival decreased dram atically
the longer i t hung around without purpose most of these eighteenth
century planes must have been destroyed.
Doors continued to be made with raised panels throughout the
Federal Period and the shops that were producing mill work would
have still needed this plane. However, about 1 830 the traditional raise
of the panel door g ave w ay to a simple rabbet. This detail could be
cut with a moving fillister or one of the mid-nineteenth century panel
planes which were made to this shape. As a result of this change in
fashion the demand for old style panel raisers dropped off. But, as
late as 1 83 0 , there were still several more decades to wait before the
development of shapers and the eventual introduction of m achined mill
work. Consequently, panel raisers that were in existence during the
early nineteenth century were allowed to l ay around idle. A plane that
was not in use took up precious space in a workshop. Also, it possessed
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A group of panel raisers. Notice that all have their irons set askew.
a very serviceable replacement iron . It is quite probable that more than

one panel raiser lost its blade for this reason and without a cutter i t
h ad little chance of survival beyond the first cold day. The result is
that few panel raisers are available. Their very existance seems to be
unknown to many woodworkers and collectors. Even authors writing
books about tools and traditional techniques usually ignore this plane.
When a modern woodworker needs to raise a panel he usually
does i t on a table saw. First the blade makes a shallow kerf which l ays
out the raise. The table is then set to cut the bevel. Later the marks
of the rotary blade can be planed away, although this clean up work
is more often done with a belt sander.
One does not need to be perceptive to spot the mistake of this
technique. He need only compare an old door with a new one. How
ever, restoration woodworkers who use a table saw to raise panels
consistently miss this point and raise doubt as to their concern for the
j ob and their customer's sensibilities. An old raised panel is not formed
at a right angle. The shallow drop is actually closer to one hundred
dred and ten degrees than ninety. However, even in houses restored by
museums the use of table saws to reproduce raised panels is too often
evident. One must assume that even curators are unaware of how a
traditional raised panel should appear. This may seem like a very
small point, but the results are dramatically different. An old door is
softened because the more gentle angle does not create sharply de
fined shadows as occur on a door made with a table saw .

Since a panel needs to be raised on all four sides the woodworker

must at some point plane end grain. This means that the iron must be
set askew so that it will not tear the soft pine of which most p anels .
were made. Perhaps it should be noted that furniture such as cup
boards, linen presses and even secretaries often h ad raised panel doors.
For craftsmen who had to work hard woods plane makers produced
panel raisers with a York pitch.
The panel raiser is really a moulding plane, but its purpose is so
specialized that it was not included in the last chapter. Like other
moulding planes this one has a fence and stop. These determined for
the user when the cut was completed. Because of these two features
the four beveled edges of a raised panel always meet at a crisp forty
five degree junction .
One must be mindful of the ease with which the plane's fence can
rock on the narrow dimension. The width of a panel can be as short
as ten inches and the work is being done by a sole well in excess of a
foot. Indeed , pre-industrial woodworkers had this problem and it some
times resulted in an ever so gentle curve to the top or bottom of the
raised area. This feature is not noticeable unless one is specifically
looking for it. But it does give an old door character, and relieves an
otherwise stark angular composition.
Buzzy Dodge takes the l as t

pass on a raised panel inten
ded for a cupboard he is
building. The long twisted
curls result when the plane
is run with the grain. The
tight chips in front of the
panel occurred when the end
grain was raised.
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This is another factor that curators as well as restorers and re

producers fail to notice. A machine made door or paneled wall stands
out in an old house because harsh mechanical perfection has been in
troduced into an environment softened by hand tooling. Where the eye
only wishes to relax and serenely observe the woodwork the m achined
p arts continually distract i t in the same manner as a barking dog
interrupts the pleasant drifting sensation one experiences just before
falling asleep. It is a contradiction to either live in an old house or visit
a restoration for the purpose of enjoying this quality only to have i t
denied because the restorer did not p ay attention to, or did not care
about it.
Certainly one of the virtues of u sing wooden planes and other
antique tools is that a woodworker who contracts to either preserve or
reproduce our heritage in wood does not h ave to accept half-hearted
results. A m achine made door is a perfect example. A profit conscious
restorer could do all the invisible work with his machines. However,
if he w as only willing to take j ust a bit more time and care he could
still proudly offer his customer a door which was hand planed with
hand raised panels. The result would be startlingly different and the
craftsman would not be guilty of having imposed visual discord on an
environment that his customer is trying to preserve specifically be
cause of its serenity.

...... aws
When an ancient craftsman was through with his bench planes

a saw was often the next tool he u sed. With one of these he would
either cut the board to the desired length and width, slice a moulding
from its edge , or follow the tracing of a curvilinear pattern. Conse
quently, every pre-industrial woodworker, no matter what his trade or
craft, maintained a selection of as many different s aws as he might
conceivably need. The role of most hand tools has been taken over
by electrically powered machines and s aws are no exception. In the
shop and on the building site they have been replaced by table , radial
arm, skilled and band saws . As a result many of the traditional forms
are unfamiliar to the modern workman , if not completely unknown.
We h ave been so mesmerized by machinery that today's woodworker
is lost without a table saw. Even a family handyman is more likely to
own a skill s aw than one he h as to pump with his arm.
Because of the gulf which exists between modern woodworking
and hand saws any discussion of these tools in their antique form
should begin with fundamentals. The essence of a saw is the sharpened
serrations, called teeth, which perform the actual cutting. These work
on the same principal as a wood rasp, except that they are arranged
single file instead of in rows.
As was true of planes a s aw that works with the grain needs to be
different from that which works across it and it is the shape of the
tool's teeth that determine its purpose. The distinction may be made
by inverting a saw and sighting along its business edge. If the reader
sees a series of knife shaped teeth the saw is called a cross cut. If in-
1 53
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These saw teeth have been magnified many times. The left row is a rip
saw. I ts teeth are sharpened to a chisel edge. The knife shaped teeth of a
cross cut are distinctly different.
stead the teeth look like an alternating row of tiny chisels the tool is
intended to work with the grain in an action called ripping. It is re
ferred to as a rip s aw.
This difference is necessary because wood is not a homogeneous
materi al . I t is m ade up of fibres which form grain. Grain varies in
density, and most importantly, has direction. When a cross cut saw
works through the board at a right angle to the grain its needle-pointed
teeth snip the fibres as they are drawn across them. This action would
not work nearly as well along the grain. Consequently , the wide tooth
of the rip s aw. This detail actually pares a tiny shaving in a m anner
that is a miniscule mimic of a real chisel. When a hundred or more
of these little paring teeth combine their efforts, a sharp rip s aw can
travel a h alf inch or more down a pine board with each stroke . Be
c ause of the difference in their action saw dust m ade by a cross cut
is distinct from that of a rip saw. The tool that works across the grain
produces a powder while that which cuts along the board makes tiny
shavings.
A craftsman must be versatile. Beside the ability to rip and cross
cut, his selection of s aws must grant him at least one other option.
Most of the time he works with precision and accuracy. However,
every woodworker has the occasion when it is to his advantage to saw
quickly because the cut is going to be left rough. The saw which is used
Saws 155
for the first task is said to be fine while the latter i s coarse. Once again

the distinction is m ade by the teeth. Coarse saws h ave few teeth to
the inch and , as they become progressively more fine the serrations
are spaced more closely together. A rip saw may have as few as four
and one h alf teeth per inch ( in this reference they are c alled points
since one counts the tips ) while a cross cut will have between six and
ten. A fine s aw intended for the most delicate j oinery may have as
many as eighteen points for e ach inch of blade.
As a saw slices into a piece of wood it creates a gap called its
kerf. One does not need to be an engineer to understand why this kerf
must be wider than the thickness of the steel blade. If it is not, then
the two edges of the wood will rub on the saw and the resulting fric
tion c auses it to bind. Eventually it becomes so imprisoned that i t c an
be freed only by cutting it loose with another s aw. To avoid this prob
lem the teeth are given a slight outward bend, called the set. A wood
worker who does not pay attention to this creates more than just extra
work for himself as he tries to push a balking saw through a piece of
wood. He risks kinking the blade.
The teeth determine the action of a s aw, not only which way it
cuts in relation to the grain but how cleanly it will do so. However, the
tool's purpose is defined by the shape of the blade. This element divides
saws into three categories : the panel saw, the back saw and the framed
s aw. Of course, the pre-industrial woodworking industry required the
services of many specialists and these men developed a number of
unique s aws in the same manner as they did their own planes. Be
cause the modern craftsman will probably not need to use these rarer
tools, and will also not be likely to find any, they are being excluded.
The s aws which are discussed were general purpose tools , used by
every ancient woodworker, and are those which will remain useful to
his modern counterpart.
There are two factors which have important implications for the
person who wants to use old saws. Right up through the Industrial
Revolution, each of these three forms, the panel, the back and the
framed s aw remained basically unchanged from the w ay it appeared at
the time of the earliest European settlements. Also, every woodworker
needed to own a selection of saws that included a representative from
each of these three groups. Because many pre-industrial saws were
originally produced, they are still readily available. Simple economics
dictate that the price of an item will remain low if it still exists in
large quantities, even when there is a steady demand. This applies to
antique saws. Not only are they relatively e asy to find, their coSt is
reasonable, usually below that of a modern replacement. However, this
situation will not exist forever.
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A panel saw is so called because its blade is made of a large sheet

or p anel of steel. Once the wide blade of this tool has entered its kerf
the s aw is not prone to wander and with it the craftsman is able to
make long, accurate cuts. For this reason a panel saw is particularly
suitable for cross cutting and ripping. In the pre-industrial period car
pen try, j oinery and cabinetmaking were the domain of this tool. These
activities are the area where the modern woodworker is most likely to
focus his attention and therefore, good panel s aws are something he
should be in search of. In order to meet every foreseeable circumstance ,
he will need to own a number. He should have at least one rip s aw as
well as a coarse and a fine cross cut. If he works with wide pine he will
w an t large panel s aws, as these afford him a longer stroke and make
the work less tiring. Such s aws are usually twenty-six inches long.
However, every carpenter, joiner or cabinetmaker occasionally needs
a short cut-off saw, one that would be handy in tight places or on small
work. P anel saws of this size were about eighteen inches long and
were referred to as "Gentleman's Saws. " The reader is assured that
even if saw makers intended these tools for a more elevated clientele,
most of the men who owned them still dirtied their hands every day.
"Gentlemen's Tools" was a term applied to smaller implements, the
sort that an occasional dabbler or even an early American home handy
m an might have owned. However, trades and craftsmen used them as
convenience tools. Of course, a small cut-off saw is usually finer than
is necessary for its bigger brothers.
This is an argument of which Aristotle himself would have been
proud. The action of saw teeth is so simple that in order to successfully
engineer one of these tools it is not even necessary for the designer to
be a woodworker himself. The steel available today is much more con
sistent than that produced a hundred years or more ago . Therefore, by
what manner of reasoning can it be determined that old saws are su
perior to the new ? I would be stumped if it were not for one over
whelming reason. The grip. This hard wood handle is an essential if a
s aw is to be a good tool. Of course, simpleton designers, convinced that
their four-year tenure in a classroom is all that is required for them to
create the twentieth century's contribution to hand tools, have not
been able to leave even the lowly saw handle alone. I am amazed at
their conceit. They refuse to consider the possibility that several hun
dred years of refinement h ave already distilled the traditional grip to
its ultimate beauty, comfort and efficiency. Instead, they continually
toy with the new forms made from new materials. The beech handle
has been replaced by plywood and plastic and these are so shaped as
to accomodate machines which are able to inject, stamp or abrade them

- -' "
Which saw handle is the most pleasing? Which one will raise blisters?
out at a rate which is agreeable to the efficiency experts. Everyone

involved in making saw h andles is either satisfying his own ego , the
boss or the stockholders, but no one is concerned with the poor crafts
men who will use their blister-raising nightmares. When one compares
the feel of an antique tool with that of the modern one he u nderstands
why today's carpenter only uses a hand saw to cut where his skill saw
will not reach. If a man attempted to cut all day long with a saw
mounted with some of the grips I have seen his his hand would be
crippled. Not only would rubbing on unrounded edges raise sores, the
wrist is set at an inefficient angle so that a simple cut requires several
times more work than is necessary.
This is certainly not the case with an antique saw. When it was
produced, carpenters cut or ripped every board they used by hand .
These men were not only concerned with comfort, they wanted their
wrist, forearm, elbow and shoulder all putting as much work behind
each stroke as possible. They would have been short tempered with a
pompous young engineer who felt that his sheepskin was sufficient
justification to waste a tradesman's energies and make him lame. In
stead, a pre-industrial tool maker took his customer's needs into con
sideration. And well he should have. A man who cut out and shaped
hardwood saw handles was himself a craftsman and woodworker. He
relied on his own tools to produce tools for other men. He knew how a
grip should feel for comfort and economy of labor. The moment these
ceased to be his maj or concerns he might as well have closed his doors .

Woodworkers would have boycotted his wares.
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Comparison of an antique with a modern s aw handle makes one

other deficiency very obvious. The beech grip is a magnificent achieve
ment in the use of curves. It is as well conceived and as fully pleasing
as the scroll work of the best furniture. It moves in three dimensions
and appears to be sinuous and alive. The viewer is not able to leave
it alone. His eye is continually drawn back to play with its complexity.
He must pick it up and feel its heft. It is good and his arm involun
tarily begins a sawing motion in imitation ( and expectation ) of actu
ally using it. He ignores the modern tool because experience already
tells him that working with it will be a chore.
The pride shared by both the pre-industrial craftsmen who made
antique tools and those who used them resulted in one other nicety
that is eliminated today. The maker of a fine panel s aw wanted the
viewer to quickly identify the firm responsible for such a good tool.
Therefore , he often placed large medallion-like brass covers on the
screws that secured the handle to the blade. Some of these are as
h andsome as gold coins, which when polished they indeed imitate.
As was true of planes, tool makers also produced lesser grades of
s aws. And , rural woodworkers were often responsible for their own
production. I t was a common practice for tool makers to supply un
mounted blades, and these often appear listed in estate inventories.
Such accountings, made shortly after the craftsman's death , seldom
mention whether or not the teeth were pre-cut. If not, then the pur
chaser was responsible for filing them and making as fine a tool as he
desired. But this is not a matter for great concern. What is important to
us in the realization that woodworkers, representing an entire spectrum
of ability, occasionally handled their own blades. Consequently, less
s atisfying antique saws do surface. However, their deficiency is usually
in their appearance , since the action of a s aw is too simple for even a
rustic woodworker to misunderstand . As a result , the failure of a panel
s aw to be either an efficient or handsome tool is in the handle.
S aw steel was so difficult to make it was precious. Unlike edge
tools which used only a small piece of steel that was scarve welded
onto the cutting surface, saws required large qu antities of high grade
metal. A process by which this could be rolled into thin, even sheets
was developed quite early, but the technology necessary to produce this
high grade steel in volume was long in coming. Therefore, these tools
were expensive and when one broke or wore out it was never discarded .
The blade could be made into scrapers, but most often it was recut to
make a smaller s aw. This is another explanation for the occasional
oddity that the woodworker will discover while searching for antique
tools.
The brass screws and nuts commonly used to fasten a grip to its
A pre-industrial saw maker was proud of his products and wanted the world
to be able to quickly identify his work. Therefore, he often mounted his
handles with large medallions that served a three-fold purpose. They held the
grip to the blade, they announced the toolmaker's name and they were
pleasing to behold. Indeed, when polished some look like gold coins. Curi
ously, in spite of the eagle, the saw on the right is English. Perhaps this
American motif was intended to enhance the tool's appeal to woodworkers in
the new country. I t was made by Ibbotson Peace & Co. E agle Works. The saw
on the left sports four graduated medallions. The smaller ones bear the
English coat of arms. This tool was made by Tillotson of Sheffield. Notice
that a new piece of wood has been spliced onto the handle to complete the
return. This example of pre-industrial tool making artistry was too success
ful to discard.
blade are a clue to identifying a home made handle. If these bear a

maker's name the tool is most likely the product of a professional.
Small, unelaborated screws were available in hardware stores and a
man who needed to mount a new saw could purchase them there. In
a pinch, a brass or even iron rivet could be inserted and peened . This
less sophisticated device suggests rural work.
Early saws were usually imported from England as native fac
tories did not prosper until the mid-nineteenth century. Notable
among them is the one owned by Henry Disston. He made s aws in
Philadelphia and founded a company which still bears his n ame. S aw
makers most often stamped their mark on the blade. Unfortun ately,
these tools have not generated the same interest among tool collectors
as have wooden planes . Therefore , complete lists of these n ames are
not yet available and the modern woodworker cannot draw on them to
identify his saw.
Merchants also marked what they bought from tool makers and
certainly many saws bear the names of companies that only sold them.
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The craftsman himself often identified a saw with either his n ame or
initials. These were stamped, or sometimes branded on the wooden
h andle as the steel was too hard to take an impression. The exception
is the b ack saw whose spine is usually made of wrought iron, although
better examples are found with brass. Both of these metals are soft
enough to be stamped and this is where an owner might impress his
mark.
Pre-industrial hand saws endured a lot of use and their owners
had to sharpen them often. This regular filing over a long period of
time wore out a blade. Therefore , as was true of bench planes, any
antique saws a modern woodworker purchases will most likely date to
the second half of the nineteenth century. Saws that were made much
e arlier are not rare , although one has some trouble identifying them
because their makers remain obscure. In time, scholars will probably
rectify this situation.
The abilHy to use a panel saw properly is such a basic skill that
i t will not be discussed here. The novice is advised to use long
rhythmic strokes as these are more efficient and spare the arm. Also,
the old adage about letting the tool do the work is valid . There is no
need to force the saw. It should be heavy enough so that its own weight
will draw it through the wood.
The back saw was named for the reinforcing spine which is set
onto its blade. These tools were used for cutting joints, and they re
quired a thinner sheet of steel than a panel saw. This means that they
were much more likely to kink with use. The spine generally prevented
this debilitating accident. Also, the extra weight helped the tool to cut.
This is particularly important in fine j oinery where the craftsman
must be more concerned with directing the s aw than with supplying the
force necessary to make it work. The bar of wax kept near the bench
for lubricating the soles of wooden planes will also cut down on the
friction created by the saw blade in its kerf.
If the modern woodworker discovers that he particularly enjoys
working with antique panel saws then he will e asily succumb to the
virtues of e arly b ack saws. They are indeed fine tools. This comes as
no surprise if one s tops to consider the state of the woodworking arts
when these tools were still in general manufacture.
No mechanical aids existed to assist the craftsman in making
tight joints. When he cut a dove tail, he combined his own skill with
the precision the toolmaker had incorporated in his saw.
Once again, comparison of a modern back saw with an antique
one will illustrate how completely machinery has eliminated the need
Saws 161
for a woodworker to own fine hand tools. The modern craftsman might
occasionally use a back saw in .a mitre box, but if he has to make any
more than several forty-five degree cuts he will most likely set the fence
on his table saw to that angle. In the event that he must make
critical mitred j oints for such a project as a picture frame he can
buy a mitre trimmer whose blade slices a perfect j oint.
The average modern back saw reflects the fact that today's wood
worker most often uses it to make rough cuts. This was not the case in
a time when this saw alone produced clean, tight j oints. The tool maker
mounted a delicate, wafer-thin blade with a comfortable handle whose
grip placed the craftsman's wrist in the most advantageous position .
Tiny, needle teeth would make a cut so neat that no marks are visible
on the end grain. Indeed, a sharp antique back s aw polishes the sides
of its kerf. A modern woodworker need only make one cut with such a
tool and he understands why their original owners held them in such
high regard. Not only was fine joinery impossible without one , but they
themselves were also fine instruments. Any craftsman is proud of a
tool that unites quality with performance.
Like the panel saw, the back s aw was a tool that could be found
in every carpenter's, cabinetmaker's and j oiner's tool box. Coach
makers, ship's j oiners and all other woodworkers who needed to fit
pieces tightly owned back saws so as to make precise j oints. Of
course, not all j oinery is the same size and back s aws varied in
length according to their intended function. For example, it would
The modern woodworker might want to own a similar selection of pre-in

dustrial back saws .
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be awkward to make delicate cuts in thin, fragile window muntins

with the same mitre saw that was used to angle crown mouldings.
The former is held together by a spine as thin as three-sixteenths
of an inch while the mammoth cornice c an be as wide as four
inches. Consequently, tool makers produced an entire range of different
sized , and sometimes different shaped, back saws, e ach with a spe
cialized purpose. These varied in length from as short as eight inches
to as long as nineteen . The smallest is deSignated a dove tail saw,
although one can be sure that such a fine toothed ( as many as eighteen
points to the inch ) thin bladed back s aw was used to cut all tiny or
fragile joints.
A somewhat larger form was called a carcass saw. The body of a
c ase piece, such as a chest of drawers, is its carcass. One c an easily
imagine why in this situation, where stronger joints are cut in denser
hardwood, the craftsman would want to use a larger saw. This tool
ordinarily h ad twelve points to the inch.
Next, is the sash s aw. This was longer than the dove tail saw
because it had to fit into the mitre box. However, it had as many points
to the inch so that the joint, cut into a narrow window muntin made
of soft pine , would not be ragged or torn.
The largest was the tenon saw whose n ame indicates its purpose.
It formed the male end of mortice and tenon joints which held together
doors, tables, panelled walls, chairs, beds and nearly every other joined
product made by pre-industrial woodworkers. Since it cut along the
grain it was more coarse than other back s aws and usu ally had nine
points to the inch.
Although tool manufacturers assigned specific tasks to their dif
ferent-sized back saws, one may be sure that craftsmen were not so
rigid. C ase work was not done exclusively with the carcass saw. It was
only used where i t was the most advantageous. The tenon saw was
placed in the mitre box with little hesitation. A dove tail saw would
have been used to cut the delicate tenons that joined munins to their
frame. The sash saw is too cumbersome and a tenon saw too coarse
for this job. What these situations are supposed to illustrate is the fact
that pre-industrial craftsmen used tools to suit their own needs and
did not bind themselves with textbook definitions. Also, j ust as these
woodworkers needed a selection of large and small, coarse and fine
saws their modern disciples will require a similar number. Therefore,
he who wishes to use old tools should not hesitate to purchase more
than one , or even several such saws. Of course, he must give this
selection the same attention he would his planes. His first considera
tion is to satisfy the demands of his own work.
Saws 163
Every woodworker of the pre-industrial period needed to cut curved

,
parts. Even the Shakers who are remembered for their simplicity and
love of straight lines, had to be able to s aw along a curve. Obviously, a
wide blade s aw is useless in this situation. In order to cut shape f a
blade must be narrow. The development of the reasonably priced
modern band saw has made today's craftsman all but forget how they
were cut formerly. As a result all that remains of the once prolific
family of framed saws is the metal coping saw that is occasionally
called upon for quick service in thin stock. However, this was not
always the case. A well equipped pre-industrial woodworking shop
maintained a selection of various framed saws to accommodate every
conceivable task from ripping heavy stock to cutting the finest frets.
A framed saw is a radical departure from the concept of panel
and back s aws. Perhaps that statement should be expressed the other
way around in view of the fact that some types of framed saws have
survived virtually unchanged since the Roman Empire. Early in the
history of woodworking, steel was even more difficult to make than it
w as during the American Colonial and Federal experience. Also, the
technology required to roll a wide flat panel of saw steel did not exist.
A blade was carefully fashioned by a smith. It was much more practical
and the results more consistent to forge a long narrow blade rather
than a wide one. Since such a saw would h ave buckled with each
thrust it was suspended in, and then pulled taut, by a wooden frame.
Eventually, ever improving technology introduced the panel s aw which
took over ripping and cross cut functions. However, the need to cut
shapes, as well as some other special purposes, forever preserved a
place for the framed s aw in pre-industrial shops.
These tools are of two sorts. The first type suspends its blade in a
rectangular frame. In other words, the blade is in the center. The
second is commonly called a bow or turning saw. In this case the blade
is on one side of a large central strut and is pulled taut by a thong and
toggle placed opposite it. This difference is not accidental. Both c u t
curves, but i n different fashions. The frame with the blade i n the
center is commonly called a felloe saw, but it would be wrong to
think that only the wheelwright used this tool. Tension is placed on
the blade of a felloe saw by means of a large square nut mounted on a
threaded shaft. As this mechanism is tightened the blade is stretched.
There is no movement in the heavy mortice and tenon j oined frame.
Although the narrow blade will turn, this is not the intention, as the
c u tting action always takes place in a line that is at right angles to the
plane described by the frame. In using the felloe saw the craftsm an
v aries the position of the wooden stretcher rather than that of the
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blade. The tool is most adept at cutting long shallow arcs rather than
tight sinuous curves. Also, the felloe saw tends to be heavier since it is
generally used on thicker stock.
The bow, or turning saw is so called because one is able to rotate
the blade to any desired setting within a full three hundred and sixty
degrees. This m akes it most handy for close , complex work. The turn
ing s aws were a general purpose tool and would have been owned by
the practitioners of nearly every woodworking trade and craft. These
s aws were available in many different sizes. However, the abundance
of smaller examples indicate that woodworkers found these to be the
most handy. Such saws would perform any task from cutting tread
scrolls for staircases to fretwork for clock cases. The larger saws were
more awkward to u se due to their size. However, they have one very
useful purpose. When mounted with a wider blade , they make an
excellent rip saw. A panel saw may be easier to control, but a turn
ing saw holding a blade cut with ripping teeth requires much less
work.
In using either a small turning saw or a felloe s aw the stuff is
mounted in a vise and the work is performed at about chest level. The
s aw is pushed forward and then cuts on the pull stroke to avoid kink
ing the blade. For this reason the teeth are always raked toward the
craftsman. On the other hand , the blade of a large turning saw does
cut on the push stroke. Also, the work is clamped on the bench top.
In use , the craftsman holds the saw in front of himself and works it
up and down with force supplied by shoulder and arm muscles. Since
the work is done on the down stroke he is able to put much of his
weight into the motion. As a result the large bow saw cuts very quickly.
With practice the woodworker becomes very adept and finds that
ripping short stock on the bench is much easier with this tool than it is
with a panel saw.
There is one other type of frame saw, which is a larger cousin to
the felloe s aw. The difference is in the shape of the frame. The felloe
s aw is nearly square, but the veneer saw, which is also center mounted,
is much longer than wide. This is because it cuts in a straight line and
the distance between the blade and the frame does not need to accom
modate a curve. This tool was indispensible in a pre-industrial shop.
Lumber has always been expensive even in a day when the landscape
was covered as far as the eye could see with virgin forests. Boards were
s awn on slow reciprocating mills and they increased in price the
further they were hauled and the more they were handled. Therefore
it w as worth the woodworker's while to have the means on hand to rip
small stock from either larger planks or even the log, right in the shop .
'-
The large bow or turning

saw is used in the vertical
position. It cuts on the push
stroke and the work ( in this
case a Windsor chair sea t ) is
clamped to the bench top.
This particular saw is a mod
ern European copy. These
are recommended since an
tique examples are usually
fragile and the hazards of
daily use endangers their
survival.
A felloe saw can be worked successfully by two men to cut short lengths of
lumber. In this case the bolt held in the vise is a length of tightly curled
maple selected from a pile of cord wood .
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This advantage was particularly important to the cabinetmaker.

Often such heavily figured woods ,!S bird's eye and curley maple, flame
birch , crotch mahogany and especially burl are only available in short
sections of the log. Also, a bolt of figured wood might be too short for
the saw carriage at the mill. If he were not able to rip boards or veneer
from it in the shop an expensive and choice piece of stock would be
denied him.
To use the veneer saw the bolt was mounted in a floor vise or, if
it was small enough a bench vise would hold it. The tool was in effect a
small pit s aw used horizontally rather than vertically. Two men ,
working as a team operated it. The s awyer was responsible for cutting
on the pull stroke and guiding the blade along a chalk line. The helper's
only responsibility was to return the saw and maintain a steady recipro
cating motion. This aided in keeping the cut straight and clean. Of
course , the blade of a veneer saw would be much wider than that of a
felloe or turning saw. Also, it was cut with rip teeth.
This tool is a boon to the amateur woodworker or even the small
modern shop which is not fully mechanized. Curley maple is so scarce
that when it does appear at the mill it commands a princely ransom.
However, short lengths of curl occur in almost every maple tree of both
the h ard and soft varieties. Short, but choice lengths of stock are
available in any cord wood pile if one has the means to cut it. A veneer
or even a large felloe saw fits the bill perfectly. The woodworker c an
usually persuade someone to assist him . With a few practice cuts he
c an train his helper to resist the temptation to control the cut from
the wrong end. The sawyer is responsible for the operation. His partner
pulls the saw back to himself after each cutting stroke, but supplies
no other energies.
I have a felloe saw that performs this operation for me. Every
season I sort out any figured hardwoods that appear in the wood pile.
They are not hard to recognize. All announce their presence after the
first swing of the maul. The freshly exposed wood is wet and its figure
glistens shamelessly in the sunlight. I seal the end grain to prevent
checking and store the bolts in the attic. Later I impress my wife who
by now is quite practiced at ripping with a felloe s aw. This economical
means affords me unlimited supplies of wood with all sorts of
pronounced grains. Also, I have the option of either quarter sawing for
stability or cutting for figure.
A felloe or veneer saw is one tool any hand woodworker will want
to possess. Their frames are heavily joined and are sturdy enough to
hold up under constan t use. Unfortu nately , the same is not true of
turning saws. The frames of these tools had to allow motion since they

Saws 167
were loosened every time the blade was adjusted. Also, woodworkers
seemed to rely mostly on small bow saws and these were delicate tools
that wore out. The aged wood has become brittle and the mortices and
tenons of the center strut are ofen badly worn.
There are few modern copies of old tools that I would recommend.
Most are clumsy in their use and uninspired in their appearance.
However, the modern turning s aw, although somewhat more heavy
than its ancestors, remains a faithful copy. It usually comes coated
with an offensive shiny varnish which prevents the frame from dark
ening evenly with use. As this finish wears grime and oil are worked
into the exposed wood and the whole tool begins to look like some
thing the c at dragged in. However, paint stripper removes the factory
finish and after as little time as a year the wood has mellowed to a
tone that is nearly as pleasing as the patin a of an antique bow s aw.
The originals are popular with collectors and consequently cost more
than they are worth. On the other hand the modern European turning
s aw available through tool suppliers is reasonably priced.
Saws of every type were subj ect to the same disdain as wooden
planes once they fell into the hands of the non-woodworking descend
ants of their original owners. Therefore, as was true of planes most of
the antique s aws that h ave survived are d amaged. Under some circum
stances they can be restored. However, most accidents turn these
tools into artifacts and relics.
Since only turning and felloe s aws seem to be popular with
collectors there is no demand for the others on the antique market.
In fact, panel and back saws are tools the modern woodworker will
most likely not find in antique shops. On the other hand tool dealers
do recognize the value of a good example. Consequently the pre
ponderant majority of my twenty-odd saws were found in either barns
or yard sales.
Before purchasing a s aw the woodworker must first examine it
closely. The handle should be sound and free of cracks. Check to see
that none of the scrolls h ave been knocked off. The blade should be
tightly mounted, as any looseness resulting from wear will make i t
annoying to work with.
Certainly, most of the damage experienced by antique saws occurs
to the blade. This is understandable since the wide, thin sheet of steel
is so prominent. Any number of possibilities could cause either a kink
or crack. Sight down the blade to see if it is either bowed or wrinkled .
Either defect interrupts the tool's operation e ach time i t passes through
the kerf. A slight bow c an be removed by flexing the blade in the
opposite direction. A shallow kink can sometimes be taken out by
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laying it on an anvil and striking it cold. However, unless the price

and other circumstances warrant the risk the woodworker is advised to
only bother with saws that are in excellent condition .
Many saws were stored in damp cellars and moisture has rusted
the blade. In this event the corrosion can be removed with steel wool ,
s and paper, emery cloth or n aval jelly. This is the same method
used to clean plane irons. However, while the cutter of the shaving tool
c an be surface ground to remove pits , the saw cannot, and if any of
these tiny holes occur near the teeth they create a serious problem. As
the saw is filed back these pits will make the teeth ragged . The cut will
be coarse and the saw will tend to pull to one side or another, making
it impossible to follow a straight line. Therefore , surface rust is ac
ceptable and , considering the treatment the tool has received over the
years, it is almost expected. On the other hand, any pitting is cause for
concern and deliberation. If it threatens to hinder the tool's perform
ance, the tool must be passed by.
While examining the blade for pitting and kinks, the woodworker
should also be certain that sufficient steel remains to afford him a life
time of sharpenings. He must realize that three-eighths of an inch may
be lost from the blade when the saw is ground back ( why will be
explained shortly ) . If the tool is a back saw the blade must be as wide
as the deepest j oint it will be called upon to cut. A panel saw with so
much of its steel removed that it looks like an alligator's snout has had
its resistance to kinking seriously weakened. Also, it has lost so much
weight that the woodworker must make up for the pull of gravity with
thrust from his shoulder. Of course, a saw suffering from such damage
c an be used for cut off work. So, under some circumstances it is still
possible for the woodworker to find it a serviceable tool. I t is only
important that he be aware of the restrictions this damage can impose
on him.
When preparing a recently acquired saw for use I prefer to remove
the handle. This is not possible if it is riveted in place. However , tool
makers usually mounted the grip with saw screws. These are a special
type of brass nut and matchi ng threade d post. The head is flat and it
sets into a countersink so that it is flush wih the surface of the wooden
grip. Its post passes throug h the handl e and the corres pondin g holes
in the blade. The nut is grooved and tighten ed onto the post with a
slotted screw driver. If the woodworker does not have one of these tools
on hand a stand-by can be made quickly and inexpensively. An
iness entia l wide bitted screw driver is ground to a chise l point . Next ,
a square slot is fashi oned in the blade with a file.
Saws 1 69
Since the saw screws have often corroded , care must be taken to
avoid shearing a reluctant post. If any are detrmined to remain in
place it is better to allow them to do so.
Assuming the nuts were all able to be removed, the screws are now
coaxed out by driving the threaded end of the post with a nail set and
a light hammer. When the handle is finally free it is separated from
the blade. The wooden grip is usually covered with paint spatters and
grime. It will look much more presentable if stripped and linseed oiled
as one would do with a plane. The blade is buffed to remove the rust
and is lightly oiled to prevent any more damage from moisture.
Before reassembling the tool , the saw nuts can be given a light
pass over the buffing wheel to shine the brass. This is done , as the
Amish might put it, "just for nice." After all, this is one reason why
easily shined brass was used in the first place. In the event that any of
the s aw screws have the large medallion type he ads which boldly
announce the maker's names , the woodworker will certainly want these
to show off.
Once the tool has been reassembled , the restorer concerns himself
with sharpening it. Any woodworker who is worth his salt knows how
to touch up a saw, and one item that was found in every pre-industrial
craftsma n's box was a triangul ar file. This is needed to dress the teeth
as they dull with normal use or to correct for an accidental meeting
with a nail . However, hand filing has its disadvantages. The sharpener
tends to put more command into the right hand stroke of the file than
into the left side. Consequently , many old saws developed a curious
condition. One row of teeth is as much as twice the size of the other.
This causes the tool to pull in favor of the larger teeth. Also, hand filing
makes it difficult to control the evenness of the row. I have SEen some
s aws whose teeth roll like a wave on the ocean . This extreme situ ation
means that he who used the tool never bothered to j oint it.
The modern woodworker is assured that any antique saw he
purchases will be dull. I recommend that it be brought to a sharpener
who will grind back the existing teeth and recut a new, even row.
There are two advantages to this. First, the craftsman will be starting
afresh with a new set of teeth which he can more easily maintain.
When the s aw begins to drag, he can quickly return it to pe ak effi
ciency with a stroke or two of the file . Secondly, he can have a saw
recut to whatever number of points per inch he desires. He can turn
a six point cross cut into a fine finish saw with nine points. Or, he
could even turn it into a rip saw. A comfortable back saw which is too
coarse ..for delicate work c an be remade into a more serviceable tool
by grinding the blade and recutting the teeth.
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(
,
This saw is an exaggerated example of what can occur with hand sharpen
ing if the teeth are not jointed periodically. The tool cuts well but it is
disconcerting to use. Courtesy Hap Moore.
This is an important advantage to one who uses a felloe saw for

ripping short stock from bolts. Normally, the teeth of turning and
felloe saws are filed for cross cutting. However, since the blade must
also do some ripping as it follows a curve , there are normally few
teeth to the inch. This allows the saw to work along the grain , but not
efficiently. If the tool is to be used exclusively for ripping ( and through
an entire log at that ! ) the teeth must be properly formed. Otherwise ,
the saw will not cut well and will increase by several times the labor
this process requires.
Once his saws have been entirely reconditioned and sharpened
the craftsman will probably want to maintain them himself. It is not
wise to send an antique saw back to the sharpener every time it
becomes dull. Most rely on a mechanical system which h as a voracious
appetite for saw steel. The m achine files more metal than does a hand
operator and consequently the tool will soon be spent. This is acceptable
with a modern tool which is easily replaced. However, the number of
restorable antique saws is finite and most have already experienced
two or three generations of sharpenings.
If the woodworker wants to properly maintain these tools he will
find several items invaluable. The first is a saw vise. This clamp has an
extra long pair of j aws which prevent the blade from fleXing while it

These two saws are also the result of continued use and frequent sharpen
ings. However, they remained serviceable and their frugal owners retained
them. The bottom tool has an interesting history. I t was found in a building
that was being razed as the result of the unforgiveable urban renewal proj
ect that eliminated the his toric north end of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.
I t was under a floor board where it had lain since the day when some long
dead carpenter lost it while building that house. The little cut off saw had
been freshly sharpened. It was protected all those years and when i t was
discovered its teeth would still cut the finger tips of anyone who felt it
injudiciously. Courtesy Buzzy Dodge .
is being sharpened. These tools are common since woodworkers only

recently developed the habit of allowing someone else to do their
sharpening. Modern copies are available at a reasonable price , but if
the craftsman can find an old one for less money it is to his advantage.
As a s aw is sharpened its teeth are cut b ack and begin to lose their
set. A dull saw will cut, although inefficiently. However, a saw without
its set will not work at all. A device called a s aw set w as always on
hand in a pre-industrial shop. This was simply a small sheet of steel
with a number of fine slots cut into its edge. I t m ay or may not h ave
been mounted with a wooden handle. A slot is fiitted over the in
dividual tooth and acts as a lever by which the point can be bent out
ward, or set. However, old s aw sets are usually so worn that they will
not grasp a small tooth, firmly. Therefore , it is much easier to u se a
modern one. These have two handles like a p air of pliers and' the
result is a more certain grip .

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In order to form a tooth properly , the woodworker must concern

himself with two factors. He must maintain the shape as well as the
angle at which it is sharpened . This is difficult with hand filing and an
examinatio n of unrestored antique saws shows that even old timers
had their problems. The modern tool market now supplies a file guide.
The unit is mounted on the blade. A sliding arm holds the file in a
continuous plane throughout the entire stroke. This guide prevents
the formation of irregular teeth, a defect that results from inattentive
hand filing.
Sharpening over an extended period of time may cause the row
of teeth to develop a gentle wave. The saw will still cut, but the
rocking motion that the arm is forced to perform is disconcerting. This
problem is corrected with a saw j ointer, a device which sits astride the
blade and holds a fine mill file level on the points of the teeth. One
or two passes up and down the row neatly j oints them so that they are
all the same length. Now, sharpening can begin and the craftsman is
sure that each tooth is the same height.
All this expense j ust for tools to maintain tools may seem ex
travagant to a woodworker who is not accustomed to using a quality
h and s aw. However, the same man has probably spent a larger sum of
money on Arkansas stones, gouge slips and hones to sharpen his
chisels and plane irons. But the expenditure is j ustified for another
reason. As is true of all good antique tools the man who uses an old
hand s aw will derive great satisfaction from it. The tool is a fine instru
ment, cleverly conceived and skillfully produced by its maker. How
ever, these qualities remain inert until the saw is placed in the hands
of a craftsman who can use it to its full potential. This is only possible
when that man is familiar with his instrument and it is the most
important reason why one would want to maintain his own saws.
Sharpening is an intimate procedure. The craftsman is forced to take
the time to know his tool. As he examines each tooth he is made more
aware of how it actually performs. The workman who only pumps
away while s awdust falls does not share this oneness of purpose with
his s aw. He does not develop respect for it and cannot achieve the
results of which both he and the tool are capable.

orIn 00 S
A t some point in the manufacture of his products every pre-in

dustrial woodworking tradesman and craftsman needed to bore holes.
When either the j oiner or the cabinetmaker assembled a mortice and
tenon j oint he secured i t by driving a pin through a hole that pierced

the entire unit. When delicate mouldings or other fragile details were
being nailed up it was necessary to drill pilot holes to avoid splitting
thin or n arrow pieces. Prior to the invention of the self tapping
screw, locks and furniture hinges could not be mounted without a
starter hole. And , tremendous quantities of stick chairs ( Windsors ,
F ancies, slat-backs , etc. ) were produced with a method of construction
that relied on bored sockets that received rounded tenons.
Two tools are necessary to drill in wood but, when in use , they are
combined to form just one. The actual cutting is done by one of a
number of various shaped steel shafts called "bits". However, these are
driven by a crank, the device which allowed the craftsman to supply
both the leverage needed to turn the small bit and the pressure to
make it bore. Although every woodworker owned at least one of these
tools, they seem to have had some difficulty agreeing on what it should
be called. In the eighteenth century it was often referred to as a
"piercer" but, by the nineteenth century this name had given way in
common usage to either "brace" or "stock". These two names are still
used interchangeably.
Several other devices for boring either very small or very large
holes were available . The giant T-auger and the delicate little pump
drill are two examples. Although both are popular with collectors they
1 73
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were not genera l purpos e tools. Their use was limited to certain crafts
and they would not have been owned by every member of the wood
working industr y. Nor will the modern woodworker normal ly find them
useful unless he is pursuin g the tradition al practice of a craft that
required these tools. Furthermore , some of these special purpose de
vices are rare and expens ive. Conseq uently, some boring instrum ents
known to eighteen th and nineteen th century woodworkers are being
ignored in this chapter.
On the other hand , antique braces and bits are plentiful. The
two reasons for this are the same ones that explain why so many
fore planes, so many beads , hollows and rounds, and so many spoke
shaves still exist. The brace and bit remained basically unchanged for
a long period of time and every woodworker owned them. In order for
tool makers to satisfy such a demand these tools were produced in
quantity and , in spite of the destruction wrought upon them during the
last century they still abound.
The ability of tool makers to solve mechanical problems within the
confines of their pre-industrial technology was masterful. Moulding
planes and adj ustable plows are good illustrations of j ust how well they
were able to refine their products. On the other hand , their solution
for holding a bit in the brace is one example of how their technology
restricted them. The element which is responsible for constraining the
bit is called the chuck. In the case of most early tool maker's braces
this device had a square opening into which the tapered end of the
bit was inserted. There were several problems associated with this
method . First, it was not universal. All braces will not accept all bits.
When this difficulty occurs the two instruments rock as they are
turned , making it impossible to bore accurately. Also, when the bit is
extracted from its hole, it is prone to pull out of the chuck and remain
firmly embedded in the stuff.
The number of experiment al and half-way solutions that were
attempted make it obvious that both tool makers and their customers
were dissatisfied with the pre-industri al brace. They continually
se arched for a more practical answer. Their trials and errors were
legion but these create a gold mine for collectors who enjoy unusual
and one-of-a-kind tools. However, this also means that the uniformity
achieved in wooden planes during the nineteent h century did not occur
to the same extent. Therefore, any discussio n of such a diversified
topic is very difficult and this chapter will have to confine itself to the
two forms which did achieve standardization.
The failure of the woodw orking industry to develop a satisfac tory
brace has an impor tant implic ation for the modern craftsm an who
Boring Tools 1 75
wants to use antique tools. My advice is to buy a new one with a uni
versal chuck. Its expansion j aws will grip any bit, modern or pre
industrial, with assurance. Since the brace is not responsible for the
actual boring process the woodworker can still experience the satisfac
tion and results of old tools by purchasing antique bits and using them
in this new stock. The problems associated with the square non
adj ustable chuck were resolved early in the Industrial Revolution and
as a result i t is possible to find late nineteenth and early twentieth
century braces with expansion j aws. However, all bit stocks h ave
movable parts. Over an extended period of time , use creates wear
which allows longitudinal movement. This makes the brace difficult to
work with. Consequently , if the modern woodworker is going to use
a recent stock to hold antique bits he might as well own a new one
that is tight since i t is sure to be tight.
In spite of this, some readers may want to attempt working with
an antique brace and for that reason a discussion of the two most com
mon types has been included . There are professional woodworkers who
do use pre-industrial bit stocks and these people are proof that although
these tools are cranky they will still perform s atisfactorily. These
craftsmen do not persist in working with such implements for either
the sake of appearance or to impress their customers. Instead , they are
driven by a bull dog tenacity that forces them to scrupulously maintain
the integrity of their approach to their craft. It is unjust to regard such
a man as a Miniver Cheevy who dreams effetely of a past age and who
will reenact it if it cannot be recaptured. Rather,\ such a craftsman is
deserving of our respect. He lives in an Age which has made it easy
for him to circumvent all the woodworking skills which once were
only acquired through practice and intense discipline. But, this man
chooses to endure a little inconvenience in order to preserve a dead
tradition. Such integrity is sorely lacking in most modern enterprises
and instead of derision he deserves our regard. Traditional workman
ship is threatened with extinction but he exists as a link between a
nearly forgotten method and the next generation who, it is hoped will
regard what has been lost with more enthusiam than did this one. He
also embodies a nearly dead philosophy that most American craftsmen
once believed and practiced : how well a job is done is more important
than how long it took.
Iron was expensive in pre-industrial Europe and America. As a
result craftsmen and tool makers stil relied on a medieval technology.
This means that wherever possible they used wood as a raw material.
Consequently , it is not surprising to find that many craftsmen owned
wooden bit stocks. Indeed, the earliest of the boring tools were made
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of wood and, prior to the end of the eighteenth century each wood
worker probably made his own brace. However, the bits a man owned
were seldom uniform. While some may have been produced by tool
companies, others were probably made by a local blacksmith. To ensure
that they were all interchangeable with his brace, each was placed in a
wooden mount. Since the craftsman made these fixtures for his own
tool he was assured that they would be the right size.
Of course, these early wooden stocks quickly wore out and had to
be replaced with regularity. Also, they were fragile and too much pres
sure , or any one of a number of other conceivable accidents , would
c ause the tool to split along its grain. Consequently, few have survived
intact. If the reader is fortunate enough to purchase one of these
historically important implements he is urged not to use it, as its
survival must not be endangered any further. If regard for the instru
ment itself is not persuasive enough it may help him to realize that
collectors find these tools very desirable and will pay handsomely for a
good example.
During the last quarter of the eighteenth century English tool
makers offered to their customers a manufactured bit brace . This was
also made of wood but it was equipped with a brass chuck. This was
a major improvement. Now, the craftsman could create torque that
would otherwise fracture an all wood j aw.
As was true of most products made by trained and organized tool
makers the new bit brace soon took on a form which the collector
quickly recognizes. As with their planes, tool manufacturers offered a
common and a best brace. The less expensive model was made of
beech and was mounted with a brass chuck. The deluxe was reinforced
with several brass plates, inleted strategically at the points where the
wood was most likely to split. Most makers identified their product by
stamping their name somewhere on either the chuck or these plates.
A spring-loa ded catch was another improvement over the wooden
j aw. A notch was ground into the bit's tapered shank. When this tool
was inserted into the chuck a pall snapped into place. This mechanis m

w as meant to prevent the bit from pulling out of the chuck as it was
being extracte d from a hole. However , it did so with mixed results. The
manufa ctured brace had one other advanta ge. The steel shaft no longer
needed to be mounte d in an individ ual wooden block. As a result tool
makers began to produce complete sets of bits as well as a number of
different types, each with its speCific purpos e. Unfort unately , the bits
made by one firm did not necess arly fit a stock made by anothe r. This
was an effective w ay for a maker to insure that customers always pur
chased bits from his compa ny. The concep t is still alive and well
Boring Tools 1 77
among automobile manufacturers. Nevertheless, it is a source of

frustration to the modern woodworker who gathers his antique bits
wherever he may, knowing that they will most likely be dissimilar from
his brace.
These manufactured wooden stocks should not be used in modern
woodworking either, as they are also too fragile. Even if one has man
aged to survive unscathed for more than a hundred years, the wood
has become brittle and the probability of its fracturing has increased.
Also, the cap h as most likely worn so that the axis allows considerable
longitudinal motion. This movement is not only annoying, it means
that the grip is weakend and use end angers the brace even further.
Tool manufacturers seem to have been fond of this form and
invested some energies in developing it. Possibly, it was such an im
provement over home made bit stocks that when it was introduced the
woodworking industry was excited by it. Anyway, its eventual culmi
n ation was the Ultimatum bit brace. These gaudy tools were made of
rosewood or other heavy, durable species and were l avishly bound
with brass. They are masterpiece tools which any woodworker would
have been proud to own. However, if the modern craftsman is for
tunate enough to come into possession of one of these he should be
content to display it rather than endanger such a handsome instru
ment.
The wooden brace continued to be produced throughout most
of the nineteenth century. Its popularity is difficult to explain . Per
haps as they wore out these stocks were simply discarded ( after the
brass h ad been scavenged for recycling ) . Possibly, the very conservative
woodworking industry simply would not let go of an old and com
fortable design. Either way, it did persist. However, in the me anwhile
tool makers did not stop experimenting with new concepts and in time
developed a rival for the wooden stock.
By at least 1 8 1 6 English tool manufacturers had begun to produce
a small compact tool which they advertised as their "Gentleman's
Brace", a term by which they are still known. Iron was expensive and
it was used sparingly in this bit stock. However, manufacturers were
as conscious as ever of design and would not sacrifice appearance
for thrift. The Gentleman's brace is indeed a graceful, pert little tool
whose size in no way affects its performance. The cap is a bold, mush
room shaped turning which fits comfortably in the craftsman's palm .
A split wooden b all may or may not have been j oined to the crank.
The earliest models seem to lack this feature , but in the interest of
preventing blisters it was soon made available.
With the introduction of their Gentleman's brace toolmakers h ad
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These braces are typical of what

many nineteenth century wood
workers used to bore holes. The
wooden stock with brass inlays
will not prove useful to the
modern craftsman. Time has
m ade it fragile and using it
threatens its survival. The Gen
tleman's brace ( center ) is quite
functional and very handsome.
Unfortunately its chuck never
worked well. In desperation its
owner replaced the thumbscrew
with a spring catch. The third
brace is blacksmith made and
like the Gentleman's, use does
not endanger it. While the first
two stocks are examples of
standardized forms the latter is
not.
overcome the tendency of the wooden stock to fracture. Also, they

were successful at producing a good looking, easy to handle tool. How
ever, they failed to improve the chuck. It was still a square tapered
opening which held the corresponding end of the bit, only a thumb
screw was substituted for the spring catch. With this the craftsman
pinched the bit in place. However, evidence suggests that it was not
even as satisfactory as the mechanism on the wooden stock. Most
Gentleman's braces are missing their screw and on some ( including
the example in the photograph ) a Rube Goldberg spring catch was
applied by a dissatisfied owner.
The metal brace was impossible to break no matter how much
torque was applied. But, this is about as far as tool makers would
ever refine their bit braces. The final solution would have to wait
until nearly the end of the century. Like the wooden stock the Gentle
man's brace was quickly standardized and most examples look very
much alike. The form endured for the rest of the pre-industrial period
and seems to have experienced considerable popularity with craftsmen.
Most woodworkers were probably content with either a wooden
or Gentleman's brace. The two tools m ay have been somewhat annoy
ing to use, but one could adj ust to them. Also, people do not usually
miss what they have never had. However, there were a small number
of craftsmen who refused to resign themselves to forever working an
Boring Tools 1 79
imperfect tool. Either they, or blacksmiths who knew of their dis

satisfaction continually toyed with the problem. Their results are
scattered throughout the modern antique market. Some of these de
serve the anonymity which has been their fate while others seem to
be very functional alternatives to the tool m aker's brace. Since these
individual and unique bit stocks are so disparate it is impossible to
describe them. One that I find to be quite satisfactory is included in
the photograph but, the reader is advised that it is not meant to be
representative.
As is true of all other antique tools most braces the woodworker
will find are damaged beyond his means to repair them. These instru
ments are very simple and he will have no difficulty sorting out those
which are unacceptable. All have a metal pin on which the cap turns
and that is where Time wreaks its h avoc. A well used brace rocks
at this point making it impossible to use on delicate work. Since this
defect cannot be corrected, any tool suffering from it should be passed
by.
Most antique braces had a wooden cap . It should not be cracked
or disfigured. A small plug was fitted into the top and hid the metal
nut which was screwed onto the threaded axis. It should be present.
However, its absence only detracts from the tool's appearance. It
does not alter its function.
A Gentleman's brace should still retain the wooden knob on its
crank if one w as originally present. The loss of its set screw in the chuck
is not important since it did not work well to begin with. The wood
worker c an replace it if he is able to find a screw with matching
threads. If the brace which is under consideration is a wooden one , it
is hoped that the craftsman is not planning to use it. However, even
if he is only going to display a tool he should be certain to pick up a
good example. Such a brace must remain tight. The wood should not
be , nor ever have been, cracked. The release button for the spring
c atch, as well as the rest of the mechanism , will be intact and func
tioning.
A brace is nearly impossible to repair and the woodworker must
only purchase one that is serviceable as found . However, he can do some
cosmetic work. The wooden parts should be stripped of grime and then
linseed oiled. Rust can be removed from the iron and the brass looks
handsome if lightly buffed to bring out its sheen. A drop of lubricating
oil will do a lot to prevent further wear between the iron crank and
the w asher that protects the wooden c ap.
Now that the woodworker has found and restored an antique
brace he concerns himself with the bits, for the tool is useless without
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them. I t is curious that so little has been written about these boring
instruments. Braces have long been popular with collectors who vie
for an unusual example and pay handsomely when they find one.
However, they ignore bits. Their only interest in them seems to be in
h aving one on hand to fit into the brace when they show off the tool
to friends. This circumstance is baffling. They would not own a plane
which was minus its iron yet, without its bits the stock would be
equally inoperable. The woodworker who is using old tools cannot
even conceive of this situation , since the satisfaction he receives from
a brace is in using it and not placing it on display.
Pre-industrial craftsmen relied on three types of general purpose
bits. As was true of most other tools, some special forms were developed
to satisfy the needs of individual crafts. As one might expect, these are
unusual items and the average modern woodworker will not ordinarily
need them. Therefore they are being excluded.
For general woodworking the first type of bit is perhaps the most
useful. It was known as the center, wing or lead bit. Its most prom
inent feature is a sharp pointed pivot which, in its passage through a
piece of wood, holds the bit unerringly on the route the craftsman has
established for it. Extending from either side of this lead are two wings
of equal width. These determine the bit's diameter. One wing term
inates in a sharp spur that acts exactly like the scribe on a filister
plane. Its function is to outline the circumference of the hole. As it
turns it snips the wood fibers loose so that when lifted they will not
tear. The actual removal of wood from the hole is done by the other
wing. This is angled and has a sharpened bezel j ust like a plane iron.
As the bit is turned this wing follows the scribe, producing a shaving.
Anyone who can remember cranking apples through a coring and
slicing machine at harvest time will be able to visualize this chip. It
looks just like an apple that has been screwed over this device's scoring
blade. A photograph has been included for those who may not have
had the experience.
The advantage of this bit is that it produced an even , straight,
square bottomed hole. Such perfection was necessary in furniture
construction. The headboard of an antique bed is secured between two
posts by rounded tenons that fit tightly into four vertical sockets. Each
was drilled with one of these bis. The same applies to a blanket rail,
if one is included. The center bits was also used for inleting either
brass or marquetry. A shallow depression, roughly the same shape
as the inlay, was made with rows of adjoining holes. A sharp chisel
quickly cleaned up the inlet. This technique was often used in making
fire arms, and anyone who owns an antique rifle or musket can usually
find the evidence. It a lock or trigger guard is removed the little scribed

Left: The center bit produces its own distinct shaving. Right: Three djfferent
sizes of center bits were used to rough out the inlet for the lock of this pre
Civil War musket. The centers and scribed circles show how little wood
needed to be chisled away.
circles centered by the lead are clearly visible. Coincidentally, this bit
was also used by the toolmaker to inlet the brass reinforcing plates and
the tangs of the chuck on his wooden braces. If one of these is removed
from such a tool the tell-tale marks are always present.
Another use for the center bit is secreted away in antique furn
iture where only the repairman will ever see it. The cabinetmaker
could quickly rough out a mortice by drilling a row of four or five deep
holes. This needs no more than to be cleaned up with a corner chisel ,
a type of tool which is very popular with collectors. The width of the
mortice is regulated by the diameter of the bit , its length hy how many
holes in the row and its depth by how deeply the holes are drilled.
Many woodworkers used a mortice chisel for this function, but this
method was also common.
Center bits were available from as small as three-eighths to as
wide as two inches and they increased in size by sixteenths. A pre
industrial craftsman did not necessarily own the complete set of
twenty-nine bits, nor is there any reason why the modern woodworker
should concern himself with buying any more than he c an use.
However, greater variety will increase his versatility.
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In order to perform to its best advantage the center bit does not
need to be exceptionally sharp, but the reader is assured that any he
finds will need to be touched up. Both the scribe and the planing
wing should be honed and this can be done nicely with a medium
grade stone. A file is not a good idea as it cuts too quickly. Like all
other antique tools there is a finite number of center bits available
and c are must be taken so that they are not used up. The wide bezel
of the cutting wing is in effect a chisel and should be honed j ust like
a miniature plane iron. The scribe is tiny and must be treated more
delicately. A small triangular slip with a squ are edge is needed so as
to reach right down to its base.
It is imperative that the scribe always be sharpened from the
inside and never from without. This tiny tip describes the diameter
of the hole. Therefore , it regulates the size of the bit. If this distance
from the center is only slightly decreased the shaving wing will remove
a radius that i s greater than what has been scored. Consequently, the
bit will fit too tightly in the hole to be turned with precision. Also, it
will tear each time it runs into end grain.
Center bits are by no means rare and the woodworker should not
bother himself with any that have been damaged . Before making a
purchase he should examine the tool to be sure that someone else
has not filed, or even worse, ground the outside of the scribe. As was
the fate of all iron and steel tools many center bits have also been
d amaged by rust. If the pits are not too deep they can be removed
with a file but, if they threaten to remain a permanent flaw the bit
is not worth the bother.
The center bit was used to make neat, vertical, square bottomed
holes. But in order to take advantage of these features the pre-industrial
craftsman had to sacrifice others. In comparison , the action of the
center bit is relatively slow. It must be held at, or very near, the right
angle. It does not clear its chip well, which must be extracted with
regularity from a deep hole. Otherwise, it chokes on its own shaving.
Also, the smaller sizes are not efficient. Therefore, when the wood
worker wanted to drill a hole quickly, deeply, at an angle , or of a
narrow diameter, he chose a spoon bit instead.
This boring tool is a semi-circular shaft whose sharp round
nose performs the actual cutting. Several variations of this bit were
in general use during the pre-industrial period. However, as their
functions were all the same, Time gradually wore away ai most of
them until they eventu ally all looked alike. The simple, hollow shaft
whose business end is sharpened like a turning gouge is somtimes
referred to as a "pod bit" to distinguish it from the real spoon. These
two tools are nearly identical except that the nose of the latter has no

Left: There are three sorts of spoon-type bits. The proboscus of the nose bit
is quite obvious. The pod ( center ) does not have an upturned end like the
true spoon bit to the right. As these bits were sharpened the features which
separated them were worn away until they all became pods. Right: The chip
cut by a spoon is tightly compressed. I ts thickness is an indication of just
how fast this type of bit cuts.
bezel. Perhaps it would be easier for the reader to imagine one half
of a peanut shell or the hull of a very shallow boat. In this case the
spoon bit has a bow. In other words it will actually hold water whereas,
liquid would run out of a pod bit ..
The third device is called a nose bit because of the cutting pro
boscis attached to it. This small wing-like proj ection is ground to a
bezel and in use it cuts somewhat like a center bit.
Both the true spoon and the nose bit were highly perishable.
Honing or even an occasional grinding were necessary to preserve their
efficiency. However, sharpening quickly removed the features which
made these bits different from the pod. The result is that m any true
spoons and nose bits survive in this more simple form. If either
has been ground back there is no way to tell what sort it originally
was. Consequently, we have grouped all three into the category of
spoon-type bits. Since the modern woodworker needs to sharpen his bits
as often as did his ancestors he should not use any of the nose or
true spoons that he may buy. They are rare and i t is imperative that
they be preserved for future generations.
Since spoons do not have a lead they are not required to bore at
a right angle. Therefore , they were the type of bit used almost ex
clusively in stick construction. This furniture differs from that which
was mortice and tenon j oined in that it was assembled by fitting round
tenons into drilled sockets. Slat-back, F ancy and Windsor chairs are
the primary examples of stick construction. The use of spoons was so
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closely associate d with this furniture that they are often referred to
as "chair bits".
The actual boring performed by the spoon is done by the nose.
The tool really has two actions. The bezel acts as the lead but it cuts a
chip which is smaller than the diameter of the shank. Consequently,
the hollow shaft reams the hole as it follows the tip. The result is
a complex, tightly compressed spiral chip which exits like a cork being
extracted from a bottle of wine.
Because the spoon has no lead i t will walk on its nose unless some
provision is made for starting it. There are two ways of doing this.
The woodworker can use a brad awl. This tool is pushed into the wood
and turned several times to form a small starter hole. Or, he can set
the spoon on the surface of the wood and strike the brace behind
the chuck with the palm of his hand. This sets the nose and bezel into
the wood and the rest of the bit will follow their lead .
A spoon bit is prone to wander on its axis making it difficult to
drill a perfectly perpendicular hole with one of these errant tools.
Chairmakers were not affected by this tendency as they did not often
need to drill vertical sockets. Almost all their chair parts were j oined
at an angle. However, no matter how steep or shallow the finished hole
is to be the bit is always started in an upright position. As the tool
begins to penetrate the wood it can be gradually eased to the desired
setting. Once there, the socket is completed .
C abinetmakers and joiners also owned spoons, even though they
did not usually rely on stick construction. In contrast to center bits
whose larger diameters are the most efficient sizes the smaller spoons
are the ones that cut the neatest holes. For this reasons, one of these
bits is very useful when installing the wooden pegs that traditionally
fasten mortice and tenon joints. Even in the most imposing doors
these pins are seldom wider than three-eighths of an inch. Those in a
table are about half that diameter.
The largest spoons are the least efficient. As a result tool makers
made these bits in a limited range of sizes. They were available from
one-eighth to three-quar ters of an inch, in graduatio ns of sixteenths .
I have never seen one wider than five-eigh ths but, know that they were
m ade , as I have repaired Windso r chairs whose sockets were drilled
using a three quarter inch spoon. It is reasonable to assume that
there were very few of these to begin with as chairm akers were the
only craftsm en who needed them. This may explain their rarity.
Howev er, the problem does not affect the averag e modern woodworker,
since he does not usually tackle chairs . He will only want to use
smaller spoons and they are readily availab le.

The fast boring gimlet does not

produce much of a chip. I t has
a tendency to pull itself through
without removing a sufficient
quantity of the surrounding
wood. Consequently, it creates
a lot of pressure. This force will
split a piece of thin stock.
These bits have a bezel and a rusty spoon, pitted on the inside ,
is seriously impaired. It should not be purchased.
These tools are sharpened in exactly the same manner as a turn
ing gouge. I t is seldom necessary to grind, as the edge can be quickly
restored with a hard stone.
If the craftsman wants to attach a moulding or drive a nail
through any other thin strip he risks splitting the wood if pilot holes
are not drilled first. These must not be too large or else the head of
a finish n ail will pull through them. But neither are they critical, and
the craftsman wishes to bore them quickly and with ease. A center
bit is out of the question. Spoons work rapidly and well but, even
the smallest sizes are too big for finish nails. Consequently , pre
industrial woodworkers relied on the speedy little gimlet.
At first glance one might mistake this little boring tool for a
distant ancestor of the auger bit. However, it is not, as it works on
an entirely different principle. The gimlet does not produce a pro
nounced chip, as it does not have a cutting edge. Its power of per
suasion lies in its shallow threads, which require only several twists
to spiral up its shank. These act in the same manner as does the
worm on a screw. As the bit is turned they feed into the wood and
actually pull the shank through. All that is removed is a very thin core .
The rest of the hole is made by pushing fibres out of the w ay. The
surrounding wood is compressed and retains that form, creating a
narrow tunnel.
Trre drawbacks of this bit are obvious. If the tool creates too
much pressure it might cause the wood to split along its grain.
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Therefore, it is necessary to clamp a thin piece in a vise before

piercing it with a gimlet. This difficulty is reflected in the range of
sizes tool makers produced. Large gimlets would be so brutal as to
make themselves useless. Therefore, five-sixteenths was a wide as
was practical. Gimlets as small as one-sixteenth of an inch are avail
able and they increase in size by thirty-seconds. These bits do not
require much maintenance. There is no bezel to hone , only the worm,
and this can be touched up with a fine triangular slip stone. A gimlet
will work well as long as no part of the twist is nicked or rounded
over. The bit is pointed and in effect has a lead. It will begin very
well without a starter hole and will stay on a pencil point. Unlike the
center bit the gimlet c an be worked at an angle, but unlike the spoon i t
does not allow for correction. Once i t has begun i t will unswervingly
follow its lead .
The gimlet is very handy in one special circumstance. Chair
makers and other craftsmen who work with hickory appreciate how
hard this wood becomes when given a chance to season. It is so
tough that it would turn away a spoon bit. When I must bore at an
angle in a piece of aged hickory I have found it best to first drill a
pilot hole with a small gimlet and then ream it with a spoon .
Tool makers supplied a seemingly endless variety of other special
purpose bits intended to be used in their braces. Although the modern
woodworker will only occasionally need these attachments he finds
that they will work as well as ever. In the event that he wants to
form a tapered hole he first drills a small pilot and then enlarges it
with a tapered reamer. This tool resembles the offspring of a marriage
between a spoon bit and a bayonet. Indeed, when placed in the brace
it looks more like a weapon intended to commit mayhem rather than
the neat , versatile little instrument that it really is. A craftsman
needed to own j ust one tapered reamer because the tool is really all
sizes. It expands from a mere point to nine-sixteenths of an inch wide.
In use it was worked to a depth that corresponded to the desired
diameter of the hole. This bit was widely used by Windsor chairmakers
to taper sockets in the arms of their chairs. Any holes wider han nine
sixteenths were worked with a hand held bung reamer.
A neat method for hiding wood screws is to counter sink the
heads and then cover them with a filler. This technique was used by
pre-industrial cabinetmakers and their countersink was held in the
brace. At least two different types were available. The first is the
most simple. It is called a "rosehead", a name that undoubtedly de
rived from the six or seven wings cut into its short, fat conical tip .
A similar selection of antique bits will anticipate any circumstance the

modern woodworker might encounter. He will most likely not need the
wider spoons . Notice that the largest is made from an old gouge while th at
next to i t is blacksmith produced. Two tapered reamers are to the bottom
and a selection of countersinks is above.
These do not cut the wood. They scrape i t or simply push it aside
thus, producing a shallow tapered opening in the pilot hole.
The second counter sink is more sophistic ated. It looks like a
gimlet bit whose long shank has been compressed into a half inch. It
has only one projecting wing. This is ground to a bezel and honed .
Because it does have an edge it actually pares a shaving as it enlarges
the opening.
Although a pre-industrial woodworker may h ave owned several , he
really needed only a single counter sink, because , like the tapered
reamer, one size fits all screws. The deeper the hole is countersunk
the wider it is made. A small screw was accommodated with only
one or two turns. For the largest the craftsman might have to excavate
to the tool's limit.
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A skilled woodworker of the pre-industrial period was versatile.

Even a specialist such as a carver was capable of handling any circum
stance within the bounds of his own craft. For example, Samuel
McIntire was as equally adept at carving the back of a sofa as he was
a mantel. Duncan Phyfe produced all kinds of furniture from cel
l arettes to side boards and all displayed the same artistry. In order to
be this habile a craftsman had to own a selection of tools that antici
pated all conceivable circumstances. A first rate woodworker could
never afford to bind his skills with a limited number of tools. What
he owned had to leave his talents unfettered so that he could express
them to the fullest. If a modern woodworker wishes to experience
the s ame freedom he cannot stifle himself. If he is planning to use
pre-industrial tools then he must not pass up the opportunity to add
to his collection and thereby expand his potential. For this reason
he will want to accumulate a spectrum of old bits and reamers.
But the need goes beyond the subject matter of this chapter. The
ardor with which the modern woodworker pursues his skill with
antique tools is a reflection of his passion for the traditional practice
of his craft. To share the same intimacy that ancient masters had
with their medium he must own their tools and use them in the same
circumstances. In his deepest musings he may even feel that the tool
transmits those skills to him through some mystical process in the
s ame w ay that the magic wand responds to the sorcerer's apprentice
or, rubbing the l amp unleashes the genie. However, in a more rational
moment he realizes that the tool urges him to use it because it pos
sesses a very rare , but nevertheless a very real, tangible quality. It was
made by a highly trained craftsman who intended it to be used by an
equally skilled woodworker. No wonder it invites him who holds it to
put it to use as gravity invites a wheel to roll down a hill.
The tool does not really have a mind of its own. It simply triggers
a response in the mind of the user. This occurs for a very simple
reason. A man who is proud of how well he does something responds
favorably to something that is well done. A good pre-industrial wood
working tool is the result of such skill and the eye detects it. When
he holds the instrument the woodworker knows that it will be satisfy
ing to use. This book began by promising to introduce the reader to
a w ay of working wood that would give him more s atisfaction. It is
hoped that as he restores and uses antique tools he will agree that this
promise has been fulfilled.

1 10 ra
y
Dunbar, Michael, Windsor Chairmaking. New York : Hastings House, 1 9 76.

Forest Products Laboratory, Wood Handbook No. 72. Washington : United
States Dept. of Agriculture, 1 955.
Goodman, W. L . , The History of Woodworking Tools. London : G. Bell &
Sons, Ltd . , 1 964.
Habakkuk, H. J . , American and British Technology in the Nineteenth Cen
tury. London : Cambridge University Press, 1 962.
Hampton, C . W . and Clifford , E . , Planecraft. Sheffield, England : C . & J .
Hampton, Ltd . , 1 9 74.
Hayward, Charles F . , Woodworking Joints. New York : Drake Publishers ,
1 9 76.
Hummel, Charles F . , With Hammer in Hand: the Dominy Craftsmen of East
Hampton, New York. Charlottsville : The University Press of Virginia ,
1 968.
Mercer, Henry C . , Ancient Carpenter's Tools. New York : Horizon Press ,
1 9 75.
Peterson, Charles E . Ed . , The Carpenter's Company of the City and County
of Philadelphia 1 786 Rule B ook. New York : Bell Publishing Co. , 1 9 7 1 .
Roberts, Kenneth D . , Wooden Planes in 1 9 th Century America. Fitzwilliam,
New Hampshire : Ken Roberts Publishing Co., 1 9 75.
Wildung, Frank H . , Woodworking Tools at Shelburne Museum. Shelburne,
Vermont : The Shelburne Museum, 1 957.
n ex
abutments 75 bed 6 1
adjustment 2 1 , 56, 57, 65, 1 07, 1 1 9 , bezel 80, 8 1 , 1 1 7, 1 1 8 , 127, 1 28
1 26, 1 36, 1 42 blacksmith 40, 42, 43, 1 1 9, 163,
alterations 1 13, 129, 130 1 79
antique dealers 2 7-30, 98-1 00 boxing 1 03
antique market 25, 33, 38, 44, 98, brass 43, 126, 160, 169, 1 76, 1 77,
99 1 79, 180
antique shops 25 burr 1 1 , 1 28
apprentices 1 0 , 1 5, 68
architecture 93-95, 1 04, 1 1 2 ; Feder
al 93, 1 04, 1 48, 1 49 ; Georgian- cabinetmakers 37, 1 34 , 147, 1 56,
93, 1 04, 1 1 2 ; Greek Revival 93, 1 84
1 04, 1 4 8 ; Victorian 1 48 cap ( see chip breaker )
- catalog 1 6
architrave 86, 94
arkansas stone ( see hones ) Cate, H . 73
assembly line 66 chairmakers 37, 1 25, 126, 129
1 89
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1 90 INDEX
chairmaking 1 24 , 125, 183; Wind- 1 37 , 1 39, 140, 1 53; end 83, 1 06 ,
sor 1 25 , 1 3 1 , 1 83 123, 1 28 , 1 32, 1 5 1
chair rail 85, 94, 98 grinding 42, 80, 82, 1 16 , 1 1 7, 127,
chatter 75, 80, 1 27, 1 29 1 39 , 183, 1 8 5 ; hollow 42, 8 1 ;
check cracks 7 1 wheel 42, 1 1 7, 1 39
cheek 72 groove 1 42
chip ( see shavings )
chip breaker 43, 64, 80, 1 30 , 1 32
Chippendale, Thomas 1 6 , 23 Haley, Ben 95-97, 1 43, 1 44
choking 54, 62, 1 08 , 1 1 3, 1 14, 1 1 9, heel 72
137, 1 49 heritage 1 8 , 20, 2 1 , 66, 68, 1 03,
collectors 29, 43, 45-4 7, 1 1 1 , 146, 1 1 1 , 1 2 1 , 142
1 74 , 1 76 hones 8 1 , 1 0 7, 1 28 , 1 8 1
communication 1 1 1 honing 42, 8 1 , 106, 1 07, 1 1 9 , 1 27,
cornice 85, 95, 98 128, 1 33, 1 8 1 , 1 83
craftsmanship 13, 1 5 Hyder, Edward G. 1 42
craftsmen 1 3, 1 4 , 9 7
Industrial Revolution 1 6 , 1 8 , 22, 9 1 ,

dado 1 39
95, 99, 1 03, 1 2 1 , 1 5 5 , 1 75
defects 70, 7 1 , 8 1 , 1 05 , 1 06, 1 10 ,
insect damage 7 1 , 82
1 1 3, 1 1 4 , 1 1 9 , 1 22, 1 38, 1 44 , 1 67,
Iron Age 1 6 , 1 8 , 22, 1 03
1 68, 182, 1 85
ivory 43, 1 43
depth gauge 1 36, 1 37, 1 39, 1 40,
142
design furniture 23; tool 22,
jointing 57, 58, 1 09, 146, 1 48
1 56, 1 5 7
joints 58, 1 39, 1 47 , 1 6 1 , 1 62 , 168;
Disston, Henry 1 5 9
butt 1 0 ; dove tail 1 60 , 1 62 ; mi
Dominy family 35. 66
tre 1 32, 1 6 1 ; mortice and tenon
doors 1 49-1 52
- 1 62, 1 73, 1 83, 1 84 ; rabbet 1 35-
double iron ( see chip breaker )
1 37, 1 4 7 ; socket 1 73, 1 83; tongue
Dunlap, J. 35, 36
and groove ( see m atched boards )
journeyman 1 5, 45
edge 53, 58, 1 09, 1 1 8, 1 1 9, 1 26-128,
1 32- 1 34, 1 39; razor 1 1 , 42, 8 1 ,
1 06, 1 30, 1 33; wire 42 kerf 5 1 , 1 50 , 1 55 , 1 56
efficiency 16-18, 1 1 1 , 1 82, 1 8 5 knots 58, 1 1 0
factory method 1 9 , 66, 68, 69, 99, labor saving devices 1 0

1 00 legs 75
feloe 129 linseed oil 83, 84, 1 0 7 , 1 42, 1 69, 1 79
fence 87, 89, 1 09, 1 1 0, 1 1 4, 1 36,
137, 1 42, 1 44, 1 5 1
fillet 1 1 8 maintenance 2 1 , 84, 1 4 1
finish 83, 1 43 maker's marks 66, 67, 1 02, 146,
flea markets 30 159, 1 76
flute 89 marquetry 1 80
furniture 88 , 94 , 95 , 1 39 , 1 5 1 , 1 8 0 Master Chair Maker's Society 125
furniture sty les 1 04 ; Chippendale- master craftsman 1 4, 1 5
90 , 93, 1 23 ; Hepplewhite 93 ; masterpiece 1 5, 48
Qu een Anne 1 23 ; Sh era ton 89 , match boards 1 45, 146
93 McIntire, Samuel 1 7, 1 88
milled lumber 52, 53, 1 39
grain- 1 1 , 75, 76, 80, 84, 1 04, 1 1 0, milling marks 52
1 27, 1 38, 1 53, 1 54; cross- 1 34, mill work 99, 1 0 1 , 1 47, 1 49
Index 191
moisture content 7 1 , 83, 84, 1 1 5, sharpening 80, 8 1 , 1 0 7

1 16 shavings 54, 56, 58, 1 08, 1 1 4, 1 1 9,
mouldings 85, 87, 92, 94, 1 00 , i 04, 1 29, 1 37 , 1"40, 146, 1 52, 1 54, 1 80 ,
1 1 0 , 1 1 1 , 1 20, 1 3 1 , 1 47, 1 48 ; bead 182, 1 84, 1 85
- 90, 9 1 ; cove 1 0 0 ; ogee 92, Sheffield, England 1 8
100; ovolo 92, 1 48 ; thumbnail- shock 72, 1 06
91 shooting 58, 1 38
mouth 76, 1 30 , 1 3 1 , 1 39 skill 1 0, 1 1 , 1 3, 1 9 , 1 09 , 1 20, 1 2 1 ,
movable parts 65, 1 22, 1 44 1 34, 1 45, 1 60 , 1 75, 1 88
muntins 147, 148, 1 62 slips ( see hones )
socket ( see join t )
sole 54, 55, 77, 78, 1 1 3 , 1 25, 126,
New York City 1 24, 1 25 1 29
stalling 56, 1 08 , 1 1 3
steel 4 1 , 42, 80, 1 1 6-1 1 8 , 1 56, 1 6 3 ;
Ogunquit, Maine 95 cast 42; saw 1 56, 1 58 , 1 63
owner's stamps 67, 146, 1 60 stock 70, 1 00 , 1 06, 1 2 1 , 1 28 , 1 32
stop 8 7, 89, 1 1 1 , 1 51
stop flutes 89
patch 77, 1 26, 1 29, 1 30 , 1 33, 1 39 Strawbery Banke 1 9
Patch, Garland 1 9 strike point 72
patina 83, 1 1 8
performance 63, 1 1 1 , 1 6 1
Phyfe , Duncan 1 5, 1 7, 23, 35, 45, tang 1 06, 1 07, 126
1 24, 1 25, 1 88 technology 4 1 , 52, 94, 1 03 , 1 35,
pitch of the iron 62, 63, 1 05, 1 1 0 , 1 58 , 1 63, 1 74; medievil 36, 1 76
1 28 , 1 3 1 , 1 32 ; common 62, 6 3 ; temper 1 1 7- 1 1 9
half 62, 1 04 ; middle 62, 63, throat 1 1 3 , 1 1 4, 149; left handed-
1 04 ; York 62, 63, 1 04, 1 5 1 1 3 7, 1 38 , 140
plane body ( see stock ) toe 72, 1 1 7
Portsmouth, New Hampshire 93, 98
primitives 28, 45, 46, 8 7 TOOLS
Providence Tool Company 79
belt sander 62, 1 2 1 , 1 28 , 1 29 , 1 50
bits 1 73, 1 74, 1 79 , 1 8 0 ; center-
rabbet ( see join t ) 1 80-1 82, 185; chair 1 84 ; counter
razee grip 63, 64 sink 1 86, 1 8 7 ; gimlet 1 8 5 ; nose
reeds 89 - 1 8 3 ; pod 1 82, 1 8 3 ; spoon-
Rings, E . C . 73, 75 1 82-1 85; tapered reamer 1 86
Ringsville, Massachusetts 73, 75 bit brace 1 73-1 76, 1 79 , 1 8 0 ; gen
riving 70, 7 1 tlemen's 1 77 , 1 78 ; Ultimatum-
rough sawn lumber 52, 53, 1 39 1 43, 1 77 ; wooden 1 75-1 77, 1 8 1
rust 8 1 , 1 0 7, 142, 1 68 , 1 82, 1 85 bit stock ( see brace )
burnisher 1 28
file guide 1 72
sand paper 21 , 62, 1 1 0 , 1 27 , 1 6 7 jointer 1 1 , 78
saw mills 52, 1 64 machine ( see power )
scarcity 9 1 , 98, 1 1 1 , 1 1 2, 1 33, 1 38 , planes adjustable plow ( see uni
1 39, 144, 1 47, 149 , 1 55, 1 60 , 1 74, ersal ) ; banding 1 39-142 ; bench
1 84 - 5 1 -53 ; blades ( see irons ) ;
scarve weld 80 block ( see smoothing ) ; combina
scribe marks 1 02, 1 09 , 1 1 0 , 1 38 tion 120; compass 129, 1 30 ;
set 56, 59, 1 0 7, 1 1 9 , 1 46 , 1 55 cu tter ( see irons ) ; dado ( see
sets of t@ols 87, 9 1 , 92, 1 39, 1 46 banding ) ; eighteenth century 99,
Shakers 14, 37, 85, 1 63 1 00, 1 02 , 1 03, 1 1 1 ; fore 52, 53,
sharkskin 62 55, 56 , 63, 76, 9 7 ; forkstaff 1 30-
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192 INDEX
1 32 ; irons 53, 56, 7 1 , 79, 8 1 , saw jointer 1 72
82, 1 06, 1 07, 1 1 6- 1 1 9 , 1 2 1 , 1 26 , saw set 1 7 1
1 28, 1 32, 1 34 , 1 37, 1 39, 1 4 5 , 1 50 ; saw vice 1 70 , 1 7 1
j ack ( see also, fore ) 1 1 , 36, 37, scribe 1 1 7, 1 37, 140 , 1 4 1 , 1 8 1 , 1 82
52; jointer 1 0 , 1 1 , 57, 76 , 78; scraper 1 1 , 62, 1 1 0 , 128 , 1 29, 1 34,
match 9 7 , 1 45 , 1 46 158
moulding 36, 85, 86, 90, 9 5 , 97-99, scorp 22, 36, 43, 45, 46, 126
1 03 , 1 0 5 ; beads 36, 90, 9 1 , 9 7 , shapers 99, 1 20, 1 2 1
98; complex 36, 86, 9 7 ; coves- shaves 43, 1 24-1 29
90; hollows and rounds 36, 8 7, thickness planer 1 1 , 1 2 , 5 1
89, 90, 97, 1 1 6 ; ogee 90; ovolo- travisher 1 25
90 ; thumbnail 90
moving llister 9 7 , 1 36, 1 3 7, 1 4 9 ;
nineteenth century 99, 1 00 , 1 02,
toolmakers 4 1 -43, 4 5 , 1 0 1 , 1 1 1 , 127,
1 03, 1 1 0 , 1 3 7 ; panel raiser 1 49-
1 43
1 5 1 ; sash 1 47- 1 4 9 ; llis ter 1 48 ;
tote 63, 75; open 63, 75; closed-
scrub 5 5 ; skew rabbet 9 7 , 1 37-
63
1 39 , 1 4 8 ; smoothing 1 1 , 36, 37,
tradition 23, 46, 1 03 , 1 1 1
58, 59, 76, 9 7 ; spar ( see fork
staff ) ; toothing 1 33, 1 34 ; trying
-56, 76 ; universal plow 9 7 , 1 42-
1 45 ; wooden 39, 40, 65-67, 1 20, warp 1 1 5 , 1 1 6
1 2 1 , 146 wax 77, 1 60
power 1 0-12, 1 4 , 1 5 , 5 1 , 52, 88, wedges 72, 74, 75, 1 00 , 1 06
1 20, 1 2 1 , 1 52, 1 53 wheelwright 124, 129, 1 3 1 , 1 63
router 1 20, 1 2 1 , 1 35 windows 1 47, 1 48
saws 1 53-1 5 5 ; back 1 55, 1 60- 1 62 ; Windsor chairs ( see chairmaking )
blades 1 55 , 1 58 , 1 60, 1 63, 1 64, wood 62, 63, 70, 1 1 0, 1 14 ; beech-
1 6 7 ; bow 1 53, 1 64, 1 6 7 ; carcass 70, 1 0 1 , 1 03, 1 43 ; birch 71 , 1 63 ;
- 1 62 ; coarse 1 54-1 56 ; cross cut box 44, 7 1 , 1 03, 143, 1 44 ; burl-
- 1 53, 1 54, 1 56 ; cut off 1 56 ; 166; ebony 44, 7 1 ; hard 1 1 ,
dove tail 1 62 ; felloe 1 6 3 ; lne- 1 0 1 , 1 04, 1 1 0 , 123, 1 28 , 129, 1 3 1 ,
1 54 -156 ; framed 1 55 , 1 63- 1 6 7 ; 1 5 1 , 1 62 ; hickory 1 8 6 ; lignum
gentlemen's 1 5 6 ; handle 1 56- vitae 44, 7 1 ; live oak 6 1 , 71 ;
1 58 , 168 ; nuts 1 58, 1 59, 1 68 ; mahogany 123, 163; maple 7 1 ,
panel 1 55, 1 56, 1 60 ; points ( see 123; bird's eye 1 04, 1 34 , 1 66 ;
teeth ) ; rip 1 54, 1 5 5 , 1 63, 1 64, curly 1 04, 1 34, 1 66 ; soft 1 66 ;
1 66 ; sash 1 62 ; table 1 1 , 1 2 , 1 20, pine 1 04, 1 5 1 , 1 56 , 1 62 ; poplar
1 2 1 , 1 35, 1 50, 1 53; teeth 1 53- - 1 04 ; rosewood 44, 7 1 , 1 43 ;
1 5 5 , 162, 1 64, 166, 1 69, 1 70 ; soft 1 04, 1 1 0 , 1 3 1 ; walnut 1 23
tenon 1 62; turning ( see bow ) ; woodworkers ; rural 87, 90, 96, 9 7 ;
veneer 1 64-1 6 7 urban 87, 92, 93, 9 7
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Not content to hang the old chairmaker 's tools

he collected on the wall, MICHAEL DUNBAR be
came one of the few contemporary craftsmen in
the country producing Wmdsor chairs completely
by hand, using the eighteenth century method
and original tools. His chair shop at Strawbery
Banke, the early American museum which is a
preservation of historic Portsmouth, New Hamp
shire, is open to the public.
Besides being an accomplished chairmaker,

Michael Dunbar is a specialist in antiques, furni
ture care, and related subjects in American history.
He signs the name John Redfield to his articles on
antiques in national magazines, and has done
news writing at the Greenfield, Massachusetts Re
corder and edited the Worcester News Recorder. A
native of Massachusetts, Dunbar received his
B.A. summa cum laude at Worcester State Col
lege, and has also attended Brigham Young Uni
versity and the University of Rennes, France.
Mr. Dunbar is the author of Windsor Chai,.,nak

ing, also published by Hastings House.
HASTINGS HOUSE . PUBLISHERS

New York 10016
, Printed in the U . S . A . ISBN 0-8038-5821-3
Jacket hotograph by Robert Swenson

Courtes of the Woodcraft Supply Corp.
,
Also by
MICHAEL DUNBAR
"Though they are extremely popular, this is the first comprehensive study
of Wmdsor chairs and chairmaking . This expertise is needed by collectors to
determine if a Windsor has been faked or tampered with . Chainnakers who
wish to make these most practical, sturdy, graceful and comfortable chairs
will find clear photographs and description of the methods and materials
used by a craftsman who loves his work and wishes to share his experience
with others." -American Antiques.
"Mr. Dunbar has written an excellent book, in which he combines his

knowledge of our early history ;:tnd the methods used by the first chaiImak
ers with his own vast experit!nce . " - National Antiques Review.
,
"Michael Dunbar 's book (is) not only a rewarding, detailed experience in
chairmaking, but also a tribute to the work and skill of craftsmen in the
past. "
-Fine Woodworking. ,
"The book is a must for Wmdsor collectors and dealers. "

-Antiques Gazette.
"Wmdsor lovers will love this look at the handsome chairs. "
- American Collector.
"The point of vie'l. '/ presented is that of a New England country chainnaker
during the 18th century running a one-man shop and the text is written in
the present tense, not merely an historical report. " - Collectors News.
160 pages, 6 " x 9 ", 53 illus tration s, bibliography, index.
HASTINGS HOUSE, PUBLISHERS New York 1001.6
www.ebook3000.com

Antique Woodworking Tools A Guide To The Purchase, Restoration and Use of Old Tools For Today's Shop

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I

Antique Woodworking Tools

DURING THE eighteenth and nineteenth centuries,

In his own words, "The reason why a modern

In order to understand antique tools thor

Photographs by Eric White

HASTINGS HOUSE . PUBLISHERS

To Pepe who was so patient and faithful

Copyright ( c) 1 9 7 7 by John Michael Dunbar

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,

Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data

Dunbar, Michael. Antique woodworking tools.

Published simultaneously in Canada by

Printed in the United States of America

Chapter I Why Use Old Tools? 9

Chapter 2 How and Where to Buy Old Tools 25

Chapter 3 What Not to Buy 38

Chapter 4 Bench Planes 51

Chapter 5 Moulding Planes 85

Chapter 6 Special Purpose Planes 122

Chapter 7 Saws 153

Chapter 8 Boring Tools 173

The most difficult part of writing a book like this is defining

the modern woodworker to a viable alternative and then, possibly even

one is left to the reader's j ud gement. However, I was helped by the

"Why should one use old tools to do modern woodworking?". The

Why Use Old Tools? 11

we live in a century when furniture is no longer expected to last a life

it would be economic suicide for him to try to convert to hand tools,

Why Use Old Tools? 13

ability to quickly produce sometimes disguises limited t alent. I t would

situation. They emulate men whose craftsmanship they claim to

Why Use Old Tools?

white, Sheraton, the brothers Adam, the Goddards, the Townsends,

ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS

ing heritage. The tools made by European tool makers remained

Why Use Old Tools? 19

ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS

Why Use Old Tools?

ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS

ficient as a woodworker than will working with hand tools. As Thomas

Once a woodworker decides to try using old tools he is faced with

ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS

three differen t types of antique shops. The first type is operate d by

How and Where to Buy Old Tools 27

in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries will be discovered in a stack

means that he is very knowledgeable and that the inquiring wood

ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS

remotely resembles anything they have seen in antique shops they

ANTIQUE WOODWORKING TOOLS

time with money, as professionals need to do, it is advisable for him

are professionals and incurable ferrets when it comes to finding

How and Where to B uy Old Tools 33

purchases of antique tools, at least until they h ave become more ex

as he is prude nt, the mone y a woodworker inves ts in old tools migh t

How and Where to B uy Old Toos

John Dunlap, the founder of the famous New H ampshire cabinet

In spite of the thorough manner in which old tools were ravaged,

How and Where to Buy Old Tools 37

The woodworker's primary objective in collecting antique tools

What Not to Buy

such a moulding plane for a price that is only a fraction of the

This is especially true of lignum vitae which is a tropical vine. As is