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#1 ·
Season 1, Episode 1: Skinny Roy Underhill has a glut of mauls.

I love The Woodwright's Shop. There, I said it. I have watched every episode more times than anyone has every watched anything… ever. So I decided to make a guide to the series, episode by episode, with my heavily biased wise cracks and comments. It'll be sort of a review of each episode complete with highlights, and a few behind the scenes bits that I've picked up over many years of borderline stalking.

So, here we go with season one, episode one…

"Not so long ago we used to do things a bit differently…"

If I wanted to find one quote that would summarize the entire thirty-some year run of The Woodwright's Shop, that would be it. Lucky for me it's the very first line in the very first episode! Strikingly young and perhaps even a bit gawky, Roy Underhill began his iconic PBS show with a mission statement: Once upon a time, if we wanted something, we made if from local materials, with locally made tools, and with energy from locally grown food… "That is precisely what the Woodwright's Shop is all about. We are going to rediscover the tools and techniques of the technology of self-reliance. We're going to learn how to make things from baskets to entire buildings." It seems like an ambitious introduction for a show that was at first rejected by the higher-ups at UNC-TV. But persistence, and perhaps the ax he carried with him to the meeting soon changed minds and hearts. The Woodwright's Shop was off and running!

It's 1979. Jimmy Carter is wearing nice sweaters in the Oval Office, the kids from "That 70's Show" are going off to college, and in a musty North Carolina shed with poor lighting and sound, history is being made. "Early Roy" is already becoming "Classic Roy" as he takes us on a whirlwind tour of the shop. The blistering speed that characterizes all future episodes is on full display as we go from tool to bench to lathe to forge, and already I feel as breathless as Roy sounds. Which of these wonderful tools will we learn about first? Roy's got it all planned out: "The best place to start is by making your own tools" beginning with the maul and the glut, which we'll need for next week's shaving horse project. And "just like an 18th century for receipt for rabbit stew that begins: 'First you catch a rabbit' ", we have to go catch a tree. With that we're off traipsing through the forest while I keep asking myself why he said "receipt for rabbit stew" instead of "recipe for rabbit stew". We already have our first blooper!

His personal bit of forest is home to more than 110 different species. My home is surrounded by perhaps four. But Roy reminds us that we have to learn to work within whatever environment we have, just as our forefathers did. It's interesting to watch him look around, naming every branch and weed that catches his trained eye. We're barely into the series and I'm already learning more than I did in years at fat camp. Roy is truly in his environment, in the forest with ax in hand, surrounded by the sights and sounds of nature. He selects an 8" hickory and with tears in his eyes he sacrifices its life for the sake of his maul. "I'm killing this tree, I need it… that's the problem with the planet, you have to deal with it." He promises to return for the rest of the tree later. "What I can't use to work with will keep us warm all winter". It wasn't a very big tree, but I bet he has some sort of idea for a high efficiency stove that can heat for months on nothing but a bit of tree bark and a few rainbows. I've already got that kind of confidence in this man's abilities.

Roy has always been a vocal advocate for the environment, but these early episodes were more about living a sustainable lifestyle than you'll find in later seasons. You get the feeling that he would like to live in some remote part of New Mexico in harmony with the planet… oh, wait… he did do that for a while, didn't he? It's not the main theme of the show, but it's definitely there and you can tell he's passionate about it. I do admit that his attitude toward Mother Nature helped inspire me to stop dumping oil in the river. But on the woodworking front, these first few episodes are an introduction to Roy's style. He assumes you have nothing but an ax, and that's all he uses. No fancy bench, no hand planes or chisels. Not even a shaving horse, because you won't have that until after episode two. His idea of a full tool kit is to have more than one ax, and lest you feel like he's keeping it too basic, he explains the differences between the bevels, how they cut the fibers, even how the moisture in the wood affects those cuts. This will become classic Underhill, an amazing amount of knowledge of the tools and techniques flowing freely between gasps for air as he works himself out of breath. Did you know medieval cathedral builders considered saws to be crude tools, confining themselves to the "nobler ax"? Roy did, and now so do we.

As his maul takes shape Roy upgrades to a "go-devil" (Iron splitting maul) and then a "dill ax" (froe) and with one "swell foop" he splits the waste away to reveal his new maul handle, setting the chunks aside for "good firewood". Waste not, want not! Soon you realize that he isn't just showing you how to make a crude tool. He's providing a lesson in the importance of the wedge, in all its many forms. The ax is a wedge, the froe is a wedge, the glut is a wedge, and the new maul will be used to drive a wedge. Chopping and splitting with a wedge is the most basic form of woodworking, and the perfect place to begin the most iconic television series in woodworking!
 
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#2 ·
Interesting blog! It makes me want to go watch it all, from the beginning.
Are the early episodes available for viewing (for free)???

You've bitten off a big hunk of blog writing. Good luck, I hope your fingers don't cramp up!!!
 
#8 ·
Thanks, everybody. Sorry, Randy, there's no place to watch the early seasons for free. I wish there was, but only Popular Woodworking has the license and they charge a pretty penny. You can get them on DVD for $40 a season or watch them online for a fee.
 
#9 ·
Season 1, Episode 2: Roy shaves a horse

Part two of my wise cracking look at my favorite woodworking show of all time…

Season 1, Episode 2: Shaving Horse part one

Skinny Roy Underhill is back for more! "Today we're going to start on our shaving horse. It's just a foot operated vise, (but) it's essential… to the kind of work we're going to be doing." Roy has begun to develop a theme for the show, taking us step by step from nothing but an ax and a tree to the basic tools and techniques a primitive woodworker would have had. The first episode blends into the second, and this will blend into the third. We had to make a maul and glut in episode one so we could split a large log to make a shaving horse in episode two. Call it a shaving horse, a draw break, draw bench, "schnitzelbank"… it's a tool with as many names as uses and Roy will make certain that we know all about it from top to bottom, bench to dumb head. This time we'll build the bench, in the next episode we'll finish it off.

He uses a red oak log that he's sure will split well because, presumably he speaks with the trees. But for those of us without such a bond to the forest he explains how we can judge the split-ability of a tree before we cut it down. If the bark runs straight up the trunk, the grain will also be reasonable straight. On the other hand, bark that spirals up the trunk of a tree indicates the presence of firewood. Roy's eerie knowledge of wood may appear to be some sort of witchcraft, but before you burn him at the stake you should try and absorb as much wisdom as you can, and he's certainly not stingy with what he knows! Later in the episode he gives a quick lesson on the differences between red and white oak. In what is fast becoming typical Woodwright style, he takes a long piece of each species and attempts to blow bubbles in a dish of water. Red oak, even in the form of a six foot dowel, allows air to pass through the fibers. White oak heartwood, on the other hand, has closed cells making it best for rot resistance and foiling any attempt to blow bubbles. If blowing on the end of a tree isn't practical, he shows how to tell the difference between red and white oak, in all of their various forms, by the leaves alone, red oak having a tiny bristle at the points.

Using his new maul and pair of wooden gluts he halves his red oak log faster than you can say "wouldn't a sawmill be easier?" Dismissing our complaint with a simple "who needs a sawmill", Roy begins to show how the entire project can be built with just a few tools in a small shop or even right out in the deep, dark forest.
Of course an oak isn't going to split exactly straight, no matter how the bark runs. "It does have a twist in it… as a reaction to stress. Just like us they get warped". Roy is already giving us a glimpse of his trademark wit. Using an adze once wielded by an 1820's shipwright, the 1970's Woodwright produces a nice thick, semi-flat slab. Time to make the legs.

Here the saw makes it first appearance. Roy had previously referred to the ax as the "nobler tool" but he's also familiar with the buck saw. Perhaps a bit too familiar as he completes his cut and fondles the turnbuckle to relieve the blade's tension. "Got to loosen her up before you put her to bed." Roy was a regular potty mouth in his younger years!

Of course the reason he prefers splitting to sawing is to preserve the natural strength of the wood fibers. He encourages us to "work with good wood, and let it do some of the work for us." Most of the shaping of his legs are done with a camp ax and a trained eye. He's really starting to enjoy himself as he flips the billet in the air like a juggler when he wants to switch ends. "It helps to talk to the wood." Roy believes that the wood "must be very shocked" as you hack into it. I'm not sure I could find the words to "calm it down" as he suggests, but I also believe any bit of tree would think it an honor to receive Roy's skillful chops.

Less we get too "bored" with all this ax work… (You see? His humor is contagious.) …Roy returns to the oak slab. He uses big T-handle augers frequently on the show but, since this is the first appearance of the tool, he takes a moment to give us a quick lesson in buying a second hand auger. I'm always impressed with how he inserts little bits of extra information throughout the show. The guy never takes a minute to catch his breath. If he's not chopping or boring he's teaching some nuance of the craft. Applying a "double lick" as he twists his auger into the oak, he begins an unexpected lesson in anisotropy. Yes, I had to look that term up. Turns out it's "the property of being directionally dependent". Roy didn't have Google in 1979, he learned his stuff the hard way. As he applies the principal to the tendency of wood to split, Roy gives us the first glimpse of his considerable book learning. Don't let the goofy act fool you, Underhill is a university graduate and accomplished individual even at this point in his career. Like a woodworking super-hero he works as Colonial Williamsburg by day as a master house builder, then changes into his trademark hat and suspenders to fight against the forces of power tool woodworking by night. In this instance he demonstrates the practice of shaving the sides of a round tenon so you can force it tightly into a hole without exerting excessive pressure across the grain. This is a handy little tip to remember as it comes up time and again in the traditional projects that we will build together as Roy progresses through season one the Woodwright Shop.
 
#12 ·
Season 1, Episode 3: Roy cuts himself but the horse is finished...

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

Back to our "schnitzelbank". Having made a bench from part of an oak tree, Roy turns the other half of the log into the other half of the shaving horse. If you didn't know a shaving horse was also called a "schnitzelbank" you probably also didn't know a froe is also called a "thrower", the process of twisting to split the wood is called "throwing". At least I'm reasonably sure that's what Roy is saying, I played it back several times to be sure he was saying "throw" and I am satisfied that we are indeed learning yet another bit of old time woodworking wisdom. More is sure to come.

His episode two bench plank has a significant twist, (Roy says that, like us, wood gets warped from stress… man, he has noooooo idea!) so each part has to be customized accordingly. Modern woodworkers with their obsession for perfectly flat and square stock to the gazillionth of an inch will watch in horror as he cancels out the massive twists by simply rotating the similarly twisted mating parts in the opposite direction. Once again, Roy at his best! This isn't about beauty, it's about function. The shaving-horse was intended to be a work-horse and a sixteenth century chair bodger could give a crap about how it looked, as long as it got the job some and the coins in his pocket. The natural twists of the riven wood are dealt with by orientation or light coaxing with a hatchet. It's fascinating to watch so much being accomplished with such a crude tool, without lopping off any fingers. I do notice that his nails are clipped (or perhaps chopped?) short.

Another new tool makes its first appearance in episode three, the framing square. I've never seen a woodworker use a framing square as often as Roy. Today a framing square is seen as a carpenter's tool, while the cabinet maker uses the combination square. Not so in the past, and certainly not in Roy's shop. Of course he also does a lot just by eye alone. No doubt he possesses as skilled a pair of eyeballs as anyone of his craft, but eyeball accuracy comes from confidence as much as from practice. Underhill had confidence seeping from his armpits and staining his shirt, even at this early stage of his PBS career, and I think that's a big part of the success he will achieve as the years go on.

Another thing I notice about the younger Roy Underhill is that he puts his tools away when he's done with them. Later seasons are full of digging through the pile on the bench looking for that buried pencil, or chisel, or hand plane… or blanket chest. He loses everything in his tool tray, and it's something that has actually endeared us to him. But after watching him in 1979 I see that it is, like many bad habits, one developed over time and with age.

But that's a future Roy. Today 1979 Roy chops away, explaining the purpose of every chamfer and notch as the shaving horse continues to take shape. "A lot of what makes things look good is the elimination of excess material that performs no function". Removing all that excess material is sweaty work and he's already soaked through. "That's not the only dumb head that's losing weight right now." Yes, even a sweaty Roy is still a funny Roy.

"Having the right tools definitely makes the job easier." Roy has a lot of tools, including some enormous augers, the 2 ¼" he whips out at this point is a house wright's auger for post and beam construction, something he uses regularly when the cameras aren't rolling at Colonial Williamsburg. But on the show he also uses a lot of these T-handle augers, especially when he wants a straight hole, taking advantage of the length of the bit to sight the angle. He says they're "not hard to find at all." Perhaps not in 1979, but times have changed since 1979 and I believe that's mostly his fault. No, not the gas crisis or the emergence of hair bands. I blame Roy for the spike in antique tool prices. What used to be seen as old and antiquated is now vintage and collectable. Woodwrights in training have been snatching up the world's supply of good T-handle augers for the last 30 years!

As the bits spill from his hole and onto the shaving horse bench (that doesn't sound right…) he tells us how we "want to have half moon (shaped chips) coming up on each side…That means both of your cutting lips are working equally". I can't help but chuckle as I imagine his mustache full of shavings as he uses his lips to shape the hard oak. I bet if anyone had a mustache that could do the job, it's Roy!

With a hole bored in each end of his mortise it's back to the hand ax to "proceed in the most expeditious manner". Only Roy would say an ax is the "most expeditious" way to cut a mortise! As he chops out the waste he misses the mark a bit, and it's nice to see that he's indeed human, which was in doubt after watching his perfectly placed chops up to this point. Then he cuts himself, and since machines don't bleed, our suspicions of a "robot Roy" are entirely dismissed. "That's a nice clean gash. No problem, no problem… we're going to see little spots of red everywhere… it's kind of my trademark". He spends the next few minutes working along while periodically sucking his wound. "The red oak is getting redder". This is the first time we see Roy's blood all over the shop, and it won't be the last. Another of the things that have so endeared us to him over the years.

"I hope (by now) you've got a shaving horse and not a bloody finger." Yes indeed, Roy… yes indeed.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide tot he series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.
 
#21 ·
Roy Underhill rakes it in...

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

"One of my (Roy's) fav-o-rite projects of all time… There's no way a machine can make this better than a person. We have to have maximum strength, minimum weight in an article of this kind."

Clearly we are about to get a lesson in old-time woodworking worth its weight in hickory! Roy taught us chopping and hacking in the first three episodes, now we're moving on to a deeper understanding of how wood works. And what better project to demonstrate the fundamentals than a traditional hay rake…

"The tines have to be dry and in order to get them dry we make them first." If you were expecting saw mill stock this time, you can put that out of your head. Real woodworkers cut their projects right out of the tree, and Roy is definitely the real deal. He tells us how we can use a billet of white oak, ash… willow is used in England, and Roy uses hickory. He wraps a 6" long log chunk with a leather strap. The leather "gives you the best springy wraparound" to hold the billets together and avoid scattering them through the shop. To prove it he takes out his favorite froe, homemade from an old car leaf spring, and splits the billet into a bundle of rectangles without losing a single one. Now that's something I want to try!

Whoever saw a rake with square tines? Rounding them requires some more homemade solutions. All you need is a piece of ¼" iron and a hardy hole. He's already drilled holes through his iron plate and as he lays it on the anvil you can see how excited he is. Roy loves this part, the satisfying "plunk" the tines make when forced through the hole, dropping into a bucket beneath. He's filed the holes in his plate to a slight oval, applying the same principal he taught us while making the shaving horse. If you've already forgotten, you need to pay better attention!

"One way you can tell dryness, you'll develop a sensitivity to this… you don't need all kinds of meters and stuff like that. They get light weight and they feel dry on your lips." He kisses one of the new wood tines like a long lost lover. If it feels cold on your lips, it's not ready yet. I walk through my shop kissing all sorts of things now, another way Roy has changed my life.

Making the long bows is a similar process, except you pull the dowel through successively smaller holes in the plate rather than pounding it through a single hole. "Just like an old wire draw-er… it's really satisfying." Watching the thin shavings curls around the plate as he pulls the dowel through, I can see what he means. Every woodworker loves to see the shavings curl, be it with a hand plane, a spoke shave, or a rusty iron plate filled with various misshapen holes.

He has "a very interesting" piece of wood for the rake head, one that he says has bark that was once "worth its weight in gold." In the 15th century sassafras bark was thought to be a cure for syphilis. I bet you never expected to discuss STDs on The Woodwright's Shop! "I wish you had smell-a vision" he notes as he inhales the spicy sassafras. "It's completely useless as a cure for syphilis" but it is a good species for the rake because it splits straight and will not rot. "You can use beech, ash, aspen… Pacific Madrone (he says with a conquistador's accent)…I'm going to go at it roughly with an ax, and give it forty whacks (a reference to infamous ax murder, Lizzie Borden)." We can work very fast "if we use the right tool at the right time" (taking out his "big teutonic cooper's ax") "You can either use these for jumping out of a long boat and storming an Irish monastery" or you can use it as a cooper did, to smooth the wood. You'd think it a rough tool but the big head in the right hands makes a good finishing tool. Not only does Roy make a good joke, but he has the right hands to wield a cooper's ax.

Another new tool that we will see a lot of in The Woodwright's Shop now makes its grand entrance, the marking gauge. Using his ax flattened surface as a guide he scratches a parallel line down the length of the board and chops it to match. His ax has become jointer and thickness planer and I am as impressed as I've been in some time. He doesn't tell us the length of the part because "we don't all need to make these alike" but shows us that it's about an arm's length. I'm not sure if my arms are the same length as Roy's, nor can I say if his freckles are a factor.

With a pair of dividers and some trial and error he finds the center of his board. There will be an odd number of tine holes so he paces off six on each side of the center. At this point it's almost strange to see him wielding such a precise tool as a bit and brace. He must not have a giant T-handle auger to fit his tines. The dry tines fit into the wet rake head and will only become more secure with time. No glue, though he suggests using it on the first couple you make just in case. I bet he glues his behind the scenes too, not even Roy Underhill can be that confident in his fit!

I am positive that, if Roy had a pencil to sharpen, he'd do it with an ax. That's not far off from what he does to sharpen the points of the rake tines, and as I watch I'm expecting him to accidentally chop at least one of them right off the rake head, but he doesn't. He does, however, show some impressive forethought by not placing the center tine onto the head yet. First he had to make and fit the handle, then that final tine will lock it in place. I know Roy didn't invent that design, but I most certainly would have forgotten and been forced to extract the center tine like a bad tooth later.

He's running out of tine…er, I mean time… so he makes his handle at the shaving horse in about fifteen seconds, introducing a pair of new tools, a large hollow bottom plane and a rounder plane, both made for making handles like this one. "Oh, a man in panic is a horrible thing…" He's almost running by the end but making a rake from a tree in 27 minutes while teaching us step by step it is exactly what we've come to expect from The Woodwright's Shop.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#24 ·
Roy Underhill debates the carpenter's tools...

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

"That walk gets longer every time…"

Roy opens episode five with a joke, but it's also a reminder to those of us in the future looking back at 1979 Roy, that his introduction was really long when the series first began, a full minute and eight seconds to be exact. It wasn't until season nine that the intro we have all come to know and love took its final form. The original version takes its time presenting its message. Roy crosses a busy intersection where a man interrupts his assault on a broken parking meter to wonder what a guy with an ax is doing in the city. Gas guzzling cars of the 70's honk their horns as he passes a police cruiser and heads down the shoulder of a busy highway, ax over his shoulder like the opening minutes of a horror film. But he's not going toward the people with murderous intent, he's actually trying to get away from them and before you know it he's reached the forest. Missing here are the happy dog waiting for a head rub and the lazy afternoon fisherman at the creek as seen in the later introduction. Instead Roy walks for what seems like miles until he arrives at the shop, opening the doors to let nature in. The sign above the shop is different, but the message is the same as in every episode from 1979 to today- leaving the hustle and bustle of the modern world behind to live a simple life.

The introduction does seem to get longer every time, but the show is worth the wait. This time he arrives in the shop more energized than ever, you can tell he's excited about episode five. Over his shoulder is an ax as usual, but this time it's a caveman's stone ax. "Oh, I must have grabbed my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaddy's ax this morning… but it does bring to mind what we're going to talk about today… the evolution of technology".

This will be a different sort of episode. He doesn't build anything, he just talks about the development of tools from the reciprocal motion of a stick between his cave man granddaddy's hands, to the addition of a flywheel for added momentum. "Jumping ahead thousands of years… as the mind sits around in a cave trying to figure out how to bore a hole…." he adds a string to his stick and flywheel to create a crude pump drill. Discarding the string he imagines the "very first example of a spinoff from military technology into civilian use" by using a small bow to spin his stick.

And so he progresses through the evolution of reciprocal motion to the crank and the conversion to circular motion, increasing speed and efficiency, until he finally reaches the intended point of the episode, the advent of the lathe. One of the most noticeable fixtures of his shop is the treadle lathe which uses a crank and flywheel to convert the up and down motion of his foot on the treadle, to the circular motion of the spindle. "They say Leonardo made a drawing of this lathe, I don't know, sometime during his lifetime." I believe Leonardo actually got the idea from the Egyptians, but you wouldn't expect a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle to invent the lathe anyway. (Kids of the 80's will get that joke.)

One impressive machine that is seldom seen in the shop is his Great Wheel Lathe, the bulk of which is mounted in the shop rafters. A rope would run from the giant wheel down to the lathe on the shop floor where the master turner would work while "his apprentice or the local wine-o or the kids or the old lady or whomever" would operate the wheel above their heads with a long pole. You'd get all the local wine-os together and a big jug of wine "and whenever they finished a newel post they'd get another shot." They used to say that this kind of lathe "ran on cheap wine." If he's hiring, I'm in!

Working back in time he moves to his spring pole lathe, a very primitive yet elegant tool run by a rope attached between a sapling above his head and a treadle board at his feet. "Chair bodgers, as they were called… would move into the beech woods" and set up their lathe right under the trees. Very fine furniture can be turned on this type of lathe, even wooden bowls with a homemade mandrel which he demonstrates for us. He even shows off his sash saw attachment which is nothing short of ingenious, if a little dangerous. Interestingly the "bed" of Roy's spring pole lathe was actually made from part of an old rope bed frame, complete with the rope holes in the side.

"Author's message time." Roy takes us over to his post drill and you instantly get the feeling that he's got something important to say. Machines like this, he says, run on apples, on food. He points to a poster of a bicycle on the wall. "A man on a bicycle is the most efficient moving thing on earth known to science". But the development of these manual types of machines were abandoned with the advent of electricity. This is a unique moment in the thirty-five year history of the show, where Roy openly says "here is the thing I'm trying to sell to you…" meaning he wants us to buy into what he's saying. He sets aside the woodworking entirely and his activism takes center stage. Early Roy Underhill used his new show as a way to reach people with his message of a sustainable lifestyle. Roy was a lover of history, of craftsmanship to be sure. But what really drives him, especially in these early years, is his love for nature and the environment that he sees as threatened by modern technology. Old time woodworking is his way of demonstrating that a satisfying life can be found in a self-sufficient, environmentally conscious, world of muscle power. He stops short of a full on speech, but with a long pause and a "well, you get my point", he lets his message sink in.

Back to the lathe. "We cannot work with dull tools, it simply does not happen… what we have to understand is what happens down there in that little microscopic world where the molecules of the steel and the molecules of the wood meet." Using a big slick chisel he shows us how a wedge cuts wood fibers. "There's an optimum angle, 30 degrees" for a cutting edge. If you think Roy needs a protractor to check his bevel angles you don't know Roy. He has a formula: The width of the bevel surface should be twice the thickness of the bevel's back. Then you know you have a perfect thirty degrees.

"The very first thing you have to do (in sharpening) is grind to a proper edge". Here we see his big foot powered sharpening stone for the first time. This is an amazingly efficient grinder with a gravity fed water drip and a slow speed. You'd have a hard time overheating a tool on this thing, though if you bet me enough money I might see just how fast I could peddle. He warns us about proper maintenance techniques for such a grind stone, as if we'll ever own one, and then moves to the bench to grab his favorite Belgian clay water stone. As he polishes he transforms into a poet, quoting from the ancient "Debate of the Carpenter's Tools":

Then said the whetstone,
"Though my master's thrift be gone,
I shall him help within this year
To get him twenty marks clear.
His axes shall I make full sharp,
That they may lightly do their work,
To make my master a rich man
I shall assay, if that I can.

Here we see Roy's love for books, something that becomes more apparent through the years as he often quotes the classics of both woodworking and literature. The funny voice he lends to the whetstone is alone worth watching this episode just to hear!

Besides making tools easier to work with, a mirror finish protects a tool from corrosion. "A Euclidian line in space, as you know…" (Oh, of course we know our Euclidian lines!) What he means to say is there should be no light reflecting off the edge, so you can use sunlight to check your tool's sharpness. And that is the final lesson in this episode of Woodwright's Shop.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#31 ·
That old bodger, Roy Underhill can go sit on a tree!

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

"This is the program that asks the question, can the twentieth century person make for themselves, from a tree, a rocking chair and sit in it? The answer you will soon see is yes."

As a twenty-first century person, I am quite sure that I have the skills to accomplish all sorts of things. I can burp the alphabet, drink a cold one through a hole in the side of the can, even win the Super Bowl with a video game controller. But I've never made a rocking chair straight from the tree with an ax. After this episode, I feel like I could.

Episode six builds upon the lessons we've already learned, particularly from the hay rake project with its use of wood moisture content to its advantage. So, how do you take that knowledge and use it to design a chair? Roy makes it simple, you just "find a chair that you like, that is comfortable for you… and you set it down beside you and you copy it." It took me a couple replays of the episode before I realized that he doesn't actually kiss the chair at this point in the show. It's simply an impression you get from the sound he makes at the moment the camera angle changes. So… no worries there.

Where do we start? We have to make the dry pieces first, of course. Every chair bodger knows that! So Roy grabs his froe and maul, and the nearest tree, and starts splitting. Nearly all of his projects seem to start this way. Nowadays most woodworkers begin with boards from a mill, or I dare say, a home improvement store. We may have to flatten them a bit, but how often do we walk out to the front yard, look at that big old oak tree and say "tear down the tire swing kids 'cause daddy's gonna make us a chair!" I'll bet that's happened a time or two at the Underhill homestead. It's his favorite kind of woodworking, and it's fast becoming my favorite kind to watch.

He's using red oak but we can use whatever species of tree we have laying around the shop. Roy's "seen them out of red mulberry." In New Mexico he made chairs out of Pinyon, a type of nut bearing pine, and from Roy's inside joke kind of laugh I presume it's an unconventional choice. But you could use it, he assures us, "you really could". The point Roy's making is that chairs are made from all sorts of materials, often several species in a single chair. "The thing to do is to see the kind of chairs that were made in your area… because the people that came before you had to make chairs too, and believe me, they found the right material to do it."

At the shaving horse, which we made in episodes two and three, he shows us how shave the split billets down to size with a draw knife. "Which side of the drawknife do you use… the beveled side or the flat side?" It depends on the drawknife and the type of work you're doing. He shows how the angles of the handles usually determine the orientation. "There's no right and wrong… the only wrong thing is abusing the tools, that's something we don't do. You have to respect your craft." What he's making is the "airfoil" shaped parts that hold the seat. These have a unique winged shape that he skillfully forms with a dozen strokes of his drawknife. Green wood cuts nicely on the shaving horse, but you'll have to let the roughly formed parts dry a while before you finish them off with a spokeshave.

"What's next? We've got to make four of these posts." It's almost comical to watch him take a hefty piece of wood, perhaps five feet long and several inches in diameter, and drawknife it down to a bit more than an inch. It seems like a lot of wood ends up on the floor, but I suppose splitting one inch billets that long and straight would be very difficult, so the drawknife has to do the job. Still, it seems like whittling a toothpick from a 2X4.

Roy shows us a simple way to put a bend in our long back legs, tying the ends of the pair together with a thick chunk of wood between them. This forces the green pieces into a bow, and as they dry they retain much of that shape. He does the same thing with the back splats, weaving them through some poles so they dry with a comfortable, back fitting curve. Next time you look at this type of chair and think the builder steam bent the parts, smack yourself in the forehead because Roy just showed us an easier way.

He's done a lot of splitting in the first several episodes, but now he really puts his skills to the test as he tries to rive some very thin boards from a wide log, shingle style. We wait on the edge of our seats, with baited breath, our hearts in our throats, as we watch the split go through the fibers and toward the side. Not to worry, Roy demonstrates how to redirect a split that seems to be heading too far to one side by simply putting more pressure with his knee on the thicker side of the piece. This guy can do anything.

Now on to the front leg posts, but he warns us not to begin these until our stretchers are dry because we want these legs to be green when we assemble the chair. "Make sure you get that right". Chair making is a carefully choreographed process with some parts drying while others are worked, all timed to come together in the grand finale. You can't rest easy until the fat lady sings, and the chair holds up under her big hocks.

For the first time in the series Roy uses a bench. Well, not exactly a bench, it's the back end of his shaving horse, but he introduces us to the holdfast which is a proper bench tool, so close enough. He's using it to hold the legs in place while he bores holes for the stretchers, and lacking a depth stop on his bit he counts the number of times he turns the brace and does the math in his head to determine the depth he's gone. Sixteen turns, as long as he remembers to count, which is difficult while he's talking to us, is just enough to provide optimal support for the mating tenon without tearing through the leg and into the bench.

Remember the oval tenon principal he taught us in an earlier episode? You'll use it a lot in chair making. But Roy takes it a step further, undercutting around the tenon's end so as the mortise dries and shrinks it will pinch around the "ball shaped" tenon end making a joint that will last until our grandkids get tired of looking at our chair and throw it out.

I believe this is also the first appearance of his trusty mortise chisel. He's previously bored out his mortises and removed the waste, and a bit of his finger, with a hatchet. But his stout mortise chisel is something that he uses in almost every project for decades to come, and it inspired me long ago to track down some similar vintage chisels. I love them as much as Roy loves his, I think.

Roy has obviously made a few chairs in his time. He has a technique "using my instinctive knowledge of up and down" to eyeball the angles as he bores the holes that the stretchers fit into. "You may have had to work at this a little bit to be able to judge where up and down really is". Chairmakers have for centuries used the same technique, utilizing an extra-long bit and often a pair of bevel gauges. A trained eye can keep the bit aligned on both axes as you bore the compound holes many chairs require. Mistakes do happen, though. You just "worry everything into position… and I don't think I worried about (this) one enough", but with some coaxing it comes together just fine as all Roy Underhill projects do. Fitting the back splats is simply a matter of some more eyeballing and trimming and a bit of wrestling them into their mortises. I would never challenge Roy to a wrestling match after watching him manhandle a few chairs over the years. He's small but wiry!

As for the rockers, "the outside is very easy to cut" he says as he traces the pattern on a board and hacks to the line with an ax. Who needs a band saw! The inside curve takes at least one bow saw cut, but even this material is removed with an ax. "Make at least half inch thick rockers, you don't want to make them like ice skates!"

You can tell by his shortness of breath that we're out of time, but Roy has one last bit of sage advice for us: "When you go out to get wood to make a rocking chair… do not whistle. If you do then your chair will squeak!" Next time we make the seat.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#32 ·
I loved Roy and his self effacing style for a scholar. LOL! I've some of his books with young Underhill Splittin Logs by hand and you are honoring him in your way.

I'm lookin for that audacious Stumpy guy that some one else will honor and eulogize. Do you know where he went?
 
#35 ·
Roy's gets a visit from a basket case...

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

"We have a lot to do today! We have got to put a bottom on our rocking chair… and tie these rockers on pretty good otherwise you're going to go to orbit on your first try."

Roy's working with white oak today, and that means another log. "If you've heard anything about getting white oak…" (Of course, Roy! Me and the boys chat about logs over beers every Friday.) "The one thing you've probably heard is you have to go into the bottom of a deep cove on the dark side of a mountain where the cows have not grazed in twenty years and a meteorite landed…" Thankfully it's all bunk. All you need is a 4-6" tree with flakey white bark, and no knots. "What we're after is the sapwood" which means some froe work to remove the heartwood and the bark. It's actually pretty amazing to watch how clean and straight the long billets split with a twist of his froe. I'm not sure if it's his skill or the grain of the wood, but I'm inclined to think he might be using some sort of extra-sensory mind waves to will the fibers apart. He's that in tune with the trees.

You have to work this wood wet, which either means working it the same day you cut the tree down, or else you can toss it in a pond until you're ready. I recommend the former as the latter can mean a nasty confrontation with a crocodile. Roy seems to prefer this method too, but I'm not betting against him in a croc fight.

Splitting the wet sapwood into thin strips is a lot even easier than splitting the heartwood would be, which is why Roy said to use the sapwood in the first place. If you split parallel with the growth rings and pull the thin, pliable strips sharply down… well, you just have to watch him do it. "Very satisfying work." And very satisfying to watch, if I do say so myself!

At this point a surprise guest knocks on the door and in comes Bryant Holsenbeck, a basket maker with a much prettier face than Roy's. Getting right to work almost as if her arrival was planned in advance, she takes over the strip "skinning", using a knife against her thigh to get each strip as thin and smooth as a white oak baby's bottom. Meanwhile Roy starts weaving his chair seat, front to back with long loops. Of course his strips aren't nearly long enough to wrap the entire chair. As I see it, there are two solutions to this problem. You can find a hundred foot tree and split your strips down the entire length, or you can watch how Roy splices the shorter strips together, end to end. As he makes his splices with a sharp knife it seems certain that he's headed for another injury. "No thumbs McCoy taught me how to make these…. He's easy to recognize in a bar". I sigh with relief as his thumbs remain intact, at least for one more episode.

While Roy is practicing his best pirate voice "It'll never come free, aye…" Bryant is beginning a basket with the same pile of strips. "Everybody does this differently, and I've been told you used to be able to tell whose white oak basket was whose by how it was lashed together." Roy suggests she sing an "old folk ditty" as she works. "Like come, butter, come…" He appears bored with his job already. "I'm glad you're here, Bryant, because putting a chair bottom together is a lot of the same thing…Are you whittlin' some ribs there?" Roy has a tendency to speak with an entirely different accent when addressing his friends. He turns into a regular southern country boy at times. Hints are seen in this episode, but later he really falls into it when he visits a neighborhood flea market. But that's a future episode and for now he has to finish his seat weaving. It's almost become a race between Roy's seat and Bryant's basket. At times he appears to stop and watch her, either impressed by her skill of distracted by her constant use of the term "supple". Bryant knows her stuff, that's for sure. After this appearance on The Woodwright's Shop she goes on to become an environmental artist whose work "documents the waste stream of our society". She's won several awards and even writes a blog today, 34 years later.

Roy is working on a herringbone effect, a design that looks a lot more complex than it really is. He demonstrates the "over-over-under-over-over-under-reverse…" pattern and now he's moving right along, and so is she as the camera switches back and forth between them. I won't spoil it by telling you who finishes first, or if they finish at all. But it ends with a tag team joke that may have been rehearsed but is nevertheless well executed. Roy (examining one of her double baskets): "This one is for people who don't want to put all their eggs in one basket." Bryant: "You might have laid one there." I'd say their two personalities weave together quite nicely.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#36 ·
I have watched Roy for many Years … 30? well I'm not sure. But I have learned a lot from him over time.
Each time I turn on my router or other power tool, I think to my self "they probably made a plane for that".
I admire the "old timers before power" and the way they worked. I have, in this modern day, reverted back to some of the 'old ways' in my work using planes and scrapers and the like.
I do round overs and chamfers faster with a block plane than to set up the router
Three cheers for Mr. Underhill for showing us the traditional was of woodworking and the tools of yester year.
 
#37 ·
Roy lays out a giant brown log.

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

"I am sure this is a part of the series that some of you have been waiting for!"

We're heading outside the shop to recall the homesteader days of hard work, cholera and log cabins. Timber frame construction came first to America and the Swedish brought log construction later. But in this two episode series we'll do it the other way around. Logs first, timbers next time.

"Everybody has a favorite building" and Roy takes us to his, a very specific and unique log house. Made from logs that were ripped down the length with a pit saw and assembled with dovetail joints, it's endured the past century or so very well. Thirty yards away is a different example, a poorly constructed cabin with both v-notch and simple lapped corners. This one is falling down after a mere two or three generations. Finally we visit a 1787 cabin that's just about flawless. The undercut daubing and compound dovetail corners made all the difference. It's a hands-on (or at lease eyes-on) lesson in cabins built to last.

Time to build our own. Not a full sized cabin, mind you. Nobody has much use for those anymore. We're making an 8 foot square corn crib. "Where to begin? With the logs, of course, pine logs". Step one is removing the bark which keeps the bugs away, help the logs dry, and produces a clean side for marking our hewing lines. Roy lays his out with a plumb bob and a snap line dipped in poke berry juice, the same thing his "Great-great uncle Weldon used to write his last letter home on the way back from Gettysburg… the baggage train with all their ink in it got hit by cavalry…" He tells the story with a sigh as if it happened yesterday. I'm not too sure it happened at all.

Hewing a log seems to be one of Roy's favorite jobs, he demonstrates it many times in the next thirty years and he just gets better and better at it. The show's first instance, however, is done a bit differently. Instead of standing on top of the log and notching the sides every foot or so, he has the log raised to waist height and starts chopping the heck out of the side all down it's length, scoring to the line. "Pace yourself, you've got to do this all day, and all night too if there's a full moon." The chopping has hacked away ninety percent of the waste and the side can now be smoothed with a broad ax, if he can catch his breath. I don't mean to imply that he's out of shape, in fact young Roy Underhill appears to be in peak physical condition, the result of years spent juicing poke berries and snapping lines. Who else could wield a broad ax while quoting poetry (again from "The Debate of the Carpenter's Tools):

The broad ax spoke without a miss,
He said the plane my brother is
We two shall cleanse on every side
To help our master with his pride.

Never missing an opportunity to add a bit of ye olde wisdom, Roy uses those verses from his favorite poem to explain that, though it looks like a big, crude implement, the broad ax is, like the plane, a finishing tool. And as he reaches the end of his log you can see what he means. The once hacked up side is now reasonably smooth, scared with only the characteristic marks of the hand hewn log. "You can do this, of course, as well as you want to. Your broad ax must be razor sharp, and sometimes… you can follow this with an adze if you're going to do parlor beams, as they say."

The sides being smooth, it's time to cut the ends. This is the most important feature of the log house, as we saw in the three earlier examples. The style of the joint can mean a lifespan many times longer, and Roy has selected two different styles, the compound dovetail and the V-notch, both designed to channel water away from the structure. "It (the compound dovetail) has been described as impossibly intricate… it is anything but that." Interestingly an ax cut surface is more resistant to decay than a sawn surface. A saw leaves a "fuzzy" path, while an ax leaves a smooth one. Just as a "fuzzy" surface will catch fire more quickly, he explains, the same is true with decay. Lucky for him he is so skilled with a hatchet, which he uses to form the compound angles of the joint with nothing but a trained eye and an experienced swing.

There's a great deal of chopping in this episode, as you can imagine. But Roy does his best to break the monotony with his references to "The Debate of the Carpenter's Tools":

Then said the belt
With great strokes I shall him pelt…

At one point he even appears to be singing the opening "Eye-da-dye…" of Simon and Garfunkel's classic "The Boxer". Pine is nice to work with, and cheap, but Roy once worked on large cabin that was originally built entirely from walnut and chestnut. Wow, times really have changed! As his two joints reach the final shape he accidently splits a big chunk off the end of the V-notch. "How embarrassing!" Here's to hoping they at least fit together. "Now that's awful (he tries to cover the assembled joint with his arm), but please look at the ones down here (which he did with less of a rush previously)…"

"Now that's our cabin, then. Next time we get together we're going to start looking at timber frame construction!" I can't wait!

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#41 ·
TIMBERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? It depends on whether that chicken lived in a log cabin or a post and beam house, because contrary to popular belief, it wasn't inside an old fashioned log cabin that eggs were first scrambled in America. It was in one of the timber frame, mortise and tenon, post and beam buildings of the first colonists. What this has to do with chickens and eggs is not important, the show's starting…

Roy's shop is itself a timber frame structure, but for the moment he whisks us away us to downtown Winston Salem, where we find some "very medieval" looking timber frame buildings dating back to the mid 1700's. The broadax hewn beams have been exposed to the elements for going on three centuries, yet they remain as stout as the day the colonials assembled them. There's a real beauty in this type of framing with its strength and symmetry. The old European versions had mud daubing filling the spaces between the beams and thatched roofs. Many of the surviving American examples have shingled roofs and brick walls, but the look is the same. Beautiful.

Roy risks life and limb to show us how this type of construction takes advantage of the way wood behaves under stress, perching himself up in the trusses of an 1830's barn. Carefully designed to shift the load from the roof to the walls, a great deal of engineering went into the way every timber was positioned. If I was up in those rafters at such a dizzying height, I'd be checking how long it takes a loogie to hit the ground. Not Roy, he pulls out a book from the era to read us a passage on calculating the size of a "queen post" truss. Here is a truly dedicated teacher, clinging to a beam forty feet above the hard packed dirt to read us a story, for goodness sake.

Whether he fell and was carried, or descended and walked on his own, we soon find Roy outside with his own little timber frame structure, ready to show us how to chop one of the large mortises common to this type of construction. He removes much of the waste with his boring machine, an interesting contraption complete with a depth scale and a pair of hand pedals which makes quick work of the job and looks like a lot of fun! We could have bought it new in 1913 for five and a half bucks. Today they're a bit harder to come by and vastly more expensive. A century of time has inflated the price on that model by fifty or sixty times!

As he sets aside his boring machine and reaches for his corner chisel I find myself in disagreement with Roy, perhaps for the first time. He appears to consider the corner chisel a wonderful tool, while I think they're just excess weight if you're carrying your tool kit to work. Even Roy has to pull out a regular chisel to finish up the mortise, the corner chisel is only good for the corners, and not that more efficient. With a wide flat chisel, squaring the end of all but the widest mortises takes three chops. With a good sized mortising chisel it takes two, hardly a time saver. Of course, if I were timber framing all day, I may think differently. But woodworking catalogs that sell corner chisels today often find themselves overstocked.

"I know a hawk from a handsaw when the wind is southerly…" Roy often sings an odd verse or quotes a little poetry out of the blue while he works. This time he's quoting Shakespeare as he crosscuts the shoulders for his tenon. I'm not sure Hamlet featured much timber framing, but if it inspires Roy, it inspires me. Splitting the cheeks away with a hand adze, Roy chamfers the end before he assembles his joint. "After I put in the purlin beam… this forms kind of a wainscot…I'll try and put the whole thing together without knocking the whole building down…" Post and beam construction goes together like a three dimensional puzzle, but instead of a photo on the box, you get a lot of splinters. Angled supports and interlocking corners and dozens of tenons, it all has to fit together in a particular sequence in just the right way at just the right time. It's really an impressive process, especially for one guy by himself, and once a frame is assembled you can see the sense of satisfaction further puffing up Roy's marshmallow hat.

Back to the shop, which as we know, is also a post and beam structure. He built it himself after examining the construction from surviving 1850's structures in his neighborhood. Here we're treated to a post by beam tour, complete with photos of his bearded buddies during the construction. All of the traditional practices were followed, even the superstition of putting a coin in one of the plate mortises before raising the walls. I think I would have enjoyed being among Roy and his friends while the shop was being built. It looked like hard work, I know I would have slowed them down, I'm certain I would have lost at least one limb, but everybody seems so excited to be part of what was to become the legendary Woodwright's Shop.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#42 ·
Stumpy, I almost didn't know what to think… AWESOME REVIEW! What an incredible resource you blog post will be to people who are not familiar with The Woodwright Shop.

Keep up the excellent work. I hope you have the stamina to go through all the episodes!
 
#46 ·
Roy Underhill wrestles a tree on a horse...

The next installment in my episode by episode, wise cracking review of the greatest television show ever…
"We've got a double header this time!"

After a two episode field trip its back to the workshop, and to make up for lost time Roy's treating us to two projects: a pitchfork and a dough bowl. What do the two have in common? My guesses include they can both give you splinters, they both resemble a giant's place setting, and either of them would make a great gift for an Amish neighbor. But as Roy points out, they can both be made from a single piece of wood. Not literally a single piece of wood, mind you, but out of two single pieces of wood. One single piece of wood for each, that is. It couldn't be simpler.

"Our first task is to go from this piece here (a long piece of hickory) to this completed fork." Many kinds of wood will make a serviceable fork, but straight grain is essential for strength while using it to eat giant salads. Roy reminds us that we can determine the straightness of a tree's grain by examining the bark. It's a much better idea than cutting down a few dozen old oaks and choosing the best one.

It's almost a little comical to watch Roy try to wrestle a seven foot tree on his shaving horse. I'm not sure which is skinnier, him or the hickory. Of course a man that can walk into the woods, point to a tree and declare "I'm turning you into a rake" isn't one to be trifled with, and I'm certainly not making fun! If you don't have a shaving horse, or like me your belly gets in the way of the drawknife, you can still do this project using a bench vise.

When he made the rake a couple of episodes back he wouldn't give us the exact dimensions because "We don't all have to make these the same". But this time he not only gives the dimensions of the rake, but he does so in cubits! The tine length is 3/5 of a cubit, and the entire "business end" makes up the rest of the cubit. As you know, a cubit is 1/300th the length of Noah's ark, or the distance from a man's elbow to his wrist. Roy's cubit may be longer than mine, so my project might come out looking more like a pitch-spork, but that's not important. What is important is the width of your piece; it must be a half inch for each tine, and about ¾" thick. You shape the end of your piece accordingly, then bore four holes through the side. He'll show us the purpose of those holes after he saws and separates the three tines. Patience, my fellow woodwrights, patience.

We've often seen Roy's potbellied stove in the background, but now we see it in action. With some stove pipe he's fashioned a steaming contraption. "You have to give it about an hour's worth of steam for every inch of thickness." That means 45 minutes to steam our rake.

In the meantime, Roy'll show us how to make that dough bowl. "It's very difficult to do this work in gum", which is pretty handy because I have no idea where to get a gumwood log, and like everything so far in the Woodwright's Shop, it takes a log and an ax to make a dough bowl.

Starting us out with some cross grain scoring cuts to prevent splitting, Roy makes quick work of his' logs innards. "I'm not going to cut myself this time." An admirable goal, but we all know Roy Undrehill is willing to sacrifice a finger or two if it means teaching us to make a dough bowl! Perhaps the reason he can say he won't cut his fingers is because he's about to pick up a bowl adze, kneel with the log between his knees and start chopping toward his legs. A trained adze-wright can do this without losing a knee cap, and we know Roy knows his way around an adze. Just "adze" him! (You know, like "ask him"…) He even shows how to make one from a garden hoe. All you need is a really, really hot fire and some oven mits.

"It doesn't take too terribly long to get this smoothed… you do the insides first and then you chop off the bottom to meet it." Tapping on the bottom and listening to the sound is a good way to guestimate the wood's thickness before you chop too far, leaving a hole in the bottom and depriving some old widow woman of her new dough bowl. A spoke shave is used to put the final surface on the outside, while a scorp or large gouge is used on the inside. Of course, if you have an elephant shaped spoke shave, like Roy made, you can do it in style! "It's just persistence, you just keep on until you get it where you want….I always, when I make these, end up leaving the score marks still in there because it might as well look like it was hand done, and I get so tired of working on them." It seems even Roy Underhill grows weary of a tedious project from time to time.

"Well let's see how our pitch fork is doing now!" I thought he said it would take 45 minutes, but after ten minutes it's flexible enough. He's made a bending jig out of some shingles and wood rods, which not only spreads the tines but gives the rake head itself the complex curve it requires. "You want to over bend so it can spring back to some extent." This is an important principal in any steam bending project, as is patience. Standing your rake next to you while you take a hot shower isn't going to cut it. Steam bending means waiting for the wood to become pliable, and waiting even longer for it to keep the new shape. He leaves his rake in the jig for about a week, which seems a lot faster on television, as he removes another one from its jig and begins fitting support rods through those holes we drilled earlier.

"I've got about a minute left, I'd like to show you one more article made out of one piece of wood… I was wondering when I was going to get a chance to show this to you…" He lifts a giant log up onto the bench with amazing ease. I knew young Roy was wiry, but I never knew he possessed such super strength! Turns out he's not Mr. Universe after all, though I still wouldn't want to arm wrestle him. The secret to his log lift is that the insides were removed and the side hinged to make a chest for the bootleggers among us. A bit of Underhill humor, and the perfect note on which to end this episode.

I'm going through the entire 30+ year run of The Woodwright Shop to create the ultimate guide to the series. It'll be as fun to read as his show is to watch, so don't miss a single one! Check out the archive at Stumpynubs.com!
 
#47 ·
Can you handle this axe?

The following article is a commentary written by Stumpy Nubs which includes his description of the episode, thoughts and additional content. Only the phrases within quotation marks are the exact words of Roy Underhill.

For more episodes, including all of season one, visit Stumpynubs.com!

SEASON TWO: EPISODE ONE- "TOOL HANDLES"

It's 1982 and Roy is back in the shop: "The place where we dare to question some of the burning issues of our time, some of the imponderable enigmas of all history, such as why is an ax handle is always wedged in tight on the head, whereas an adze handle is always loose and easily slipped from its handle…"

Yes, season two of The Woodwright's Shop starts off with somewhat less than a bang. We're going to talk about handles, the least interesting part of every tool. But young Roy Underhill has a way of making dull subjects interesting as he hones our understanding of the days gone by.

"The answer lies somewhere over here in the rocks…" With a few pedals of the grinding wheel we learn that an adze is impossible to sharpen with the handle in place, so it's designed to be removable. Makes sense. But not every handle is designed for function, some reflect the style of the period. Roy shows us how a pile of handsaws can be a virtual timeline of woodworking history if you know how to read the handles. The open "pistol grip" of the dovetail saw gave way to the closed handle of the sash saw. The early examples were more sculpted, and the later favored strength over beauty.

"There's another kind of saw handle that's interesting… this old crosscut saw." Roy's vintage saw features an adjustable handle that rotates ninety degrees, making it easier to cut a standing tree. This is an example of handle evolution through convenience rather than style. The idea never really caught on, perhaps because lumbermen of the nineteenth century were among the last to adopt new-fangled fluffery. A fancy new handle wouldn't impress unless it lasted longer than the old one. These desires for increased durability led to the evolution of chisel handles. Repeated striking with a mallet or, heaven forbid, a hammer could devastate even the hardest of turned handles. But the addition of an iron band could add decades to its lifespan. At the lathe Roy demonstrates how to turn a hickory handle and fit a ring cut from an old piece of iron pipe. He begins with "bone dry wood" so that a tightly fitted ring will only tighten with humidity. Any good woodworker knows how moisture can affect his tool handles:

"Sam Watkins was telling me… he farms over near Efland… his hoe handle got bit by a snake. And that hoe handle started to swell up on him, you know, because the snake bit it. And finally it got so big he couldn't use it as a hoe handle and he had to break it up into timbers and use it for a hog pen. Well, he kept his hogs in there until one day just last spring he spilled some turpentine on the logs and the swelling started to go right down on them logs, and it squeezed up on them hogs and before he knew it… well, anyway he's still got some of the sausage."

With an old cant hook handle he next demonstrates how a clever tool maker would use the natural deformities of the timber to his advantage. A twist or turn in the grain can naturally form a bend that would otherwise have to be cut into a handle's profile. The obvious benefit is the added strength that comes from unbroken wood fibers.

What would an episode of The Woodwright's shop be, especially in the early seasons, without splitting some green hickory? Season two will be no different as Roy gets down on his knees to make some axe handles. If you're building along you'll need an eight inch billet, about three feet long. Ash will work too, in fact it's all they use for handles in England "because hickory doesn't grow there." Roy imagines how the first colonists went out looking for the traditional ash that they had always made their tool handles from, only to discover the far more resilient hickory. It's these little sidebars that make the show so entertaining, and I quickly find myself picturing the Pilgrims tramping around the forest in their big hats and buckled shoes. At first glance they may have thought the hickory was in fact an ash, both having compound leaves. But the hickory has alternating leaves, which the Pilgrims may not have known. They might have spent their time "barking up the wrong tree".

As he splits his timber Roy tells us that a wooden maul is preferred so you don't blind yourself; the first safety tip of the season. You may have a maul in your shop, but it's doubtful that you have as many as Roy. He's even crafting a new one, using a rare rounder plane to shape the handle. Also called a "nug" or a "witchet", we saw this tool once or twice in season one, and its usefulness is undeniable if you make a lot of long handles. While I've heard such a tool referred to as a "witchet" a time or two, the term "nug" is more common among the pot smoking community than the woodworking one. I don't know whether the young, formerly commune living, mother earth defending Roy Underhill would have been familiar with that usage. Watching him shave the bark off the pieces of hickory with quick chops right next to his thigh, it is clear that Roy is NOT under the influence. I would have buried that hatched deep in my knee, but he comes out of it no worse for wear. With bark removed his billets are far less attractive to bugs which might have made them their home during the year that the wood now has to dry.

"While we're waiting…" Roy goes into one of my all-time favorite illustrations from the early seasons. With nothing but a bit of charcoal from the wood stove and a slab of white oak he gives us a lesson in geology, climatology and dendrology. For those who don't know, Roy isn't just a country woodworker. He majored in theater at UNC, hardly a surprise when you see how comfortable he is in front of an audience. But he also has a master's degree from Duke University, where he studied forestry and the environment. Perhaps he first saw this illustration on one of his professor's blackboards, but I like to think he made it up himself. It's the story of why hickory and magnolia and other trees aren't found in Europe. "Here's our planet, a great place to be," he begins. Drawing the continents as best as can be expected with a cinder, he shows us how the mountains in the Americas run north to south, while the great European ranges run east to west. "Now here come the ice ages…" Sprinkling sawdust over his charcoal planet he mimics a glacier creeping down from the north like an icy monster striking fear into the hearts of trees everywhere. "A tree can outrun a glacier, if you've ever seen him try it… in Europe they're being forced higher up into the elevation of the Alps and they're freezing cold, in fact they're dying out. But what happens in North America? They're going down between the mountains ranges, down south staying warm so that after the ice ages…" (He begins blowing the sawdust "snow" off the earth) "The trees come back north. North America still has all its species." I honestly never knew that.

Now we're invited to pretend that it's a year later and those good old American hickory billets are bone dry. At his shaving horse Roy begins shaping his handle, but not before telling us how that shape developed over time. Producing a stone axe, he shows us how the head is attached to a stick with sinew. Then an early iron axe with a straight handle. Next comes the early nineteenth century axe with a sweeping curve in the handle. "We're starting to get design coming in here… but then it starts getting decadent… it starts going downhill." A more modern axe handle has a double curve and a "ridicules" shape at the end called a fawn's foot. "High style but really useless", in fact that foot makes tightening the head with a mallet blow on the handle's end more difficult. People made their own handles to their own tastes. Once you get a style that suits you, you made a pattern so you could duplicate it. Roy has his own pattern, having perfected his "whip", which is how the energy is transferred from your shoulders, down the handle and into the tree. The unique shape of an axe handle is designed for just that purpose, and a woodcutter would tweak its shape to fit his unique style.

Of course the shape of your handle depends on the type of axe. A hewing broad axe, for example, would have a shorter, straighter handle that's canted to the side to give you clearance as you work your way down a timber. Roy shows us a roughed out blank he's been making for such an axe, shaped with a draw knife rather than steam bent as some do it. At the shaving horse he continues to refine the shape, keeping the growth rings at ninety degrees to the axe blade, as is his preference. "Some manufacturers put paint on an axe handle to cover up cheap wood", or as one would assume, a handle that wasn't carefully smoothed and scraped with a spoke shave and piece of broken glass like Roy is using.

How do you get an old, broken handle out of an axe head? Throwing it in a fire is a bad idea as it will take the temper out of the head. You could bury the head in the ground and build a fire around the handle, but it is best to just saw and hack it out. Handles are difficult to remove because they are tightly wedged. Some stick the head into a bucket of water so the handle will expand in the hole. Roy says this is a bad idea too since the fibers will compress as they swell and the head will actually be more loose once they dry.

Before wrapping up the season two premiere he gets out an old catalog to show us how these old axes that collectors so prize today once sold for a few dollars. It makes me wish granddad would have bought a few crates full and saved them for me. At any rate that wraps up this episode of The Woodwright's Shop.
 
#48 ·
Enjoyable read Stumpy. So much knowledge from the past has disappeared, I'm glad some of it is still around. It is always amazing how apparently simple things are a lot more complicated (read interesting) than meets the eye. Our ancestors were ergonomic masters since they mostly used their own muscles or their animals muscles to do all their work. They had to make tools that optimized their input out of necessity. Most of us who use hand tools are just stumbling around in the dark compared to them.
 
#49 ·
Roy wraps his thong around a lathe and warns us of crotch splinters...

Read my entertaining (and informative) "Woodwright's Shop Review" blog- the guide to season two, episode two has just been finished. Take a lighthearted look at a very young Roy Underhill as he builds a candle stand from Miss Maggie's walnut tree, wraps his thong around the lathe, and tells us how to keep splinters out of our crotches!

For more episodes, including all of season one, visit Stumpynubs.com!

After you read the article below, click here to watch Roy Underhill and me (Stumpy Nubs) together in Kansas City as we talk about all sorts of behind the scenes stuff.

The following article is a commentary written by Stumpy Nubs which includes his description of the episode, thoughts and additional content. Only the phrases within quotation marks are the exact words of Roy Underhill.

Today Roy is "especially glad" we are joining him in the Woodwright's Shop because we are going to be working with some "excellent wood". We're building a candle stand, which is a perfect project for those who need an entire piece of furniture upon which to set a candle! But this one is special because it comes with a story. You see, a couple of years back Roy heard a "terrible crash" during an ice storm. As it turned out, Miss Maggie's big walnut tree had come down! What was a strapping young Woodwright to do? He picked up his ax and cleaned up the mess, all in exchange for the supple brown wood, some of which he began turning into a candle stand for Miss Maggie. Alas, Maggie passed before Roy's wine powered lathe could complete the job. So it is in her honor that we explore this project today.

A candle stand includes "a lot of turnery". From the top to the post, much of it is made on the lathe. Except for the cabriole legs (cab-re-ol), so called because "they look like a leaping goat". But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Before we can begin dovetailing the leg sockets we have to find some more of Miss Maggie's wood. Lucky for us, Roy has half a tree laying on the floor of the shop, bark and all. A couple of years after its demise, the tree appears to be as worse for wear as Miss Maggie. But Roy shows us how to judge the soundness of the heartwood by the sound a hatchet makes when you strike the end. Sure enough, it only takes a little chopping to get to the candle stand grade material within. His point is that you shouldn't dismiss an old punky log when you come upon one near the site of an old house in the woods, presumable by the light of a full moon as most such discoveries are made. Ask the owner if you can have it and you may be in candle stands for a very long time. Walnut is a unique wood. The pith in walnut is always chambered with little diaphragms running down its length. That's the best way to identify a walnut tree, assuming you miss the fact that it is a deep brown color.

Off to the shaving horse! If you don't have a fancy treadle powered lathe you can actually create the entire stand with a drawknife. Roy insists that he's seen some excellent examples made that way, but I have my doubts. And evidently he has some too, because he's soon transferring his debarked billet from the horse to the lathe. Before long his leg is pumping and the shavings are flying as Roy notes the importance of studying turnery. You don't need a book, you only need a few old examples to copy. Roy appears to be copying an example of a candle stand post he made before the show began, which he now pulls out to reveal the completed profile. Tossing the half turned version to the floor, he produces the stand's upper block. This disc has been shaped with a turning saw, but it is soon fitted upon the end of the post and the whole thing is back in the lathe for more turning. He's hardly finished before he begins applying bees wax, using his finger tips to spread it onto the spinning post. "Don't do this unless you're as crazy as I am!" he warns. "This will burn your hands right up!" I'm not worried. It's not as if he's prone to workshop injuries, right?

A second disc is added to the assembly, a larger one that will serve as the top. The entire thing now goes back into the lathe for shaping- or at least nearly so. Because at this point it occurs to Roy that you may not have a two hundred year old treadle lathe upon which to turn your candle stand. You may have to use a tree branch to power your lathe. What would you do then? Not to worry, Roy takes his stand over to his spring pole lathe to demonstrate how quickly he can get his thong wrapped around it. No, he doesn't get too close and get his underwear sucked off. This "thong" is a leather strap that wraps around the candle stand's post and attaches to a sapling growing out of the shop's rafters above. This style of lathe is much more powerful due to its direct drive operation, and as such it may be better suited for turning the large top of the stand. But enough of this hi-tech turnery, it's time to make the legs.

Roy found a leg pattern in a library book, which he now traces onto a slab of Miss Maggie's tree. We may not be turning the legs as we did the rest of the candle stand, but we are using a "turning saw". This ancient bow saw design takes its name from its ability to "turn corners". The old-timey woodworkers weren't very creative when it came to naming their tools, were they? Roy starts at the "toe", saws up the "shins" and exits the wood at the "knee". Soon he has a roughed out leg, which he smooths and shapes with a spoke shave. Your candle stand will require three of these legs, and Roy happens to have a set already finished, which is fortunate because he's out of breath. I suppose I would be too is I'd just turned a log into the parts of a candle stand in just shy of sixteen minutes!

But we're not entirely finished, we still have to cut the dovetails that join the legs to the stand's post. Roy uses a cutting gauge to lay his joint out on the end of one of the legs. Cutting gauges aren't just for layout, they are actual woodworking tools. They cut the wood fibers, creating a kerf that may be widened with a sharp chisel or a saw to form the joint's shoulder. He also uses his chisel to cut the beveled side of the dovetail because he doesn't have a traditional sliding dovetail plane. Today he could just log onto eBay and pick one up, but this is 1982 Roy, and he has to make do with what he has. Hand beveling the legs of an eighteenth century candle stand is just another day's work for our young Woodwright. Grain direction is an important consideration, of course: "As you slide down the banister of life, may all the splinters go in your direction!" While we are forced to imagine Roy filling his tenders with splinters as he straddles a stair rail, he finishes shaping his dovetail. Now we have to create the matching slots in the post.

Roy takes his leg in hand and transfers the shape of the dovetail onto the end of the candle stand's post, carefully tracing around it with an awl. He uses a saw to make a "stopping cut", so called "because it stops what you are about to do next." He uses his chisel to create a flat on the side of his post, splitting away the material from the end. Sure enough, the stopping cut prevents the entire side of the post from splitting away. Now he uses an auger to bore a hole just below the location of the stopping cut, judging the depth so that it goes no deeper than the dovetail requires. The hole gives the toe of his saw a place to go as he uses it to cut along the sides of his flat, angling inward to form the proper bevel angle. A chisel is used to chop out the waste and we've got the sliding dovetail slot in about seven minutes. I am quite certain that my "seven minute slot" wouldn't be even close to the right shape for my dovetail, and Roy warns that a fit that is too tight will crack the candle stand. But he uses a chisel to customize the fit and the heel of his hand to persuade the leg into its place. All that is left to do is cut away the little nub that was left on the top at the lathe and you will finally have a place to set your candle, which is the perfect way to end this episode of the Woodwright's Shop!
 
#50 ·
Stumpy,

Wow! You and your hero. Roy's persona always comes through. You guys share that unique sense of humor. I'm looking at you looking at Roy. LOL! Dude it shows! Nice save on the audio , I could understand it. Haven't seen a new "Behind The Sawdust," in awhile?

An autographed book stand. I'm sure it will take a special place in your history book office.

Thanks,

I'm a Roy Underhill fan too. Just not as avid as you.

Tanks for the video!
 
#53 ·
Thirty-five hand planes in one action packed, edge of your seat, wild ride of an episode!

Read my entertaining (and informative) "Woodwright's Shop Review" blog- the guide to season two, episode three has just been finished. Take a lighthearted look at a very young Roy Underhill as he teaches us to identify and use thirty-five different (and often unique) antique woodworking planes!

For more episodes, including all of season one, visit Stumpynubs.com!

After you read the article below, click here to watch Roy Underhill and me (Stumpy Nubs) together in Kansas City as we talk about all sorts of behind the scenes stuff.

The following article is a commentary written by Stumpy Nubs which includes his description of the episode, thoughts and additional content. Only the phrases within quotation marks are the exact words of Roy Underhill.

Today Roy is talking about a subject that is close to my heart: hand planes. The good folks at Colonial Williamsburg lent him a bunch of them, and we're going to try and guess what shops they came from. Strap yourselves in, folks. This is going to be a wild ride!

First up is a spill plane, a unique tool in many ways. For one thing, you use it upside down. You clamp it in a vise with the bottom up, running your work piece through a groove in its sole. The angled iron shaves off a long curl that "spills" out the mouth in the plane's side. Those shavings have the look of a wooden straw, and are themselves called "spills". "If you know what a spill is used for, then you know what this plane is all about." Roy is such a tease! He doesn't actually tell us "what a spill is used for," instead he moves on to another plane.

The second plane in today's show-and-tell is a tiny little thing that looks like a baby coffin smoother. No, I don't mean a plane used to smooth baby coffins. I mean a very small version of the traditional coffin shaped smoothing plane. So small, in fact, that it's about the size of the end of Roy's finger, which is a funny coincidence as it happens to be called a finger plane. It creates more dust than actual shavings, but it does have a purpose. Of course, Roy isn't going to tell us that purpose yet. He's moved on to plane number three. This one is a beautiful brass and rosewood infill plane with a very low angled iron to reduce tear-out in figured grain. A fourth plane is just the opposite: a simple block of wood with an iron so steep that it's almost perpendicular to the sole. This is a "toothing plane" and it is used to scrape highly figured grain. These three tools came from the same shop, and now it's time to guess which shop that is. I think the finger plane gave it away. Only a musical instrument maker would use such a tool, with the possible exception of a manicurist or a Lilliputian carpenter. Since there's neither a nail salon nor a colony of tiny people in Williamsburg, I'm going with the instrument maker. And Roy awards me a gold star for my answer.

He's still carrying around his "spill" shaving as we move on to another set of planes, beginning with number five for the day. This strange looking tool is full of clues that hint toward its owner's identity. For one thing it has a tongue that runs down the center of its sole and an octagonal shaped iron. It's hand made from highly figured tiger maple. And there's a finely engraved scroll pattern on the top. This is the plane of a gun maker. In the old-timey days fine gun stocks were made from tiger maple. The barrels were shaped like an octagon, requiring a matching profile to be plowed into the stock. And finely engraves patterns were often a signature of the maker. That one was easy, what's next?

Number six is a rabbet plane with a steeply curved sole. On the toe is an adjustable strip of wood that serves as a primitive way to change the profile, simply raising the toe farther above your work surface. I would have guessed it was a cooper's plane, and that guess would have cost me my gold star. But I kept my trap shut long enough for Roy to let the true owner's identity slip. It's a coach maker's plane. By way of comparison he shows us a more modern version, an iron compass plane with a sole made from a thin piece of steel that will bend to a wide range of convex or concave shapes. I have seen these used for all sorts of woodworking tasks. I even have one in my shop, which has never turned out a coach. But Roy insists that this seventh plane of the day is also a coach maker's tool.

The next four planes are used to create moldings. These are very common even today, long after they became obsolete. Roy takes the opportunity to give us some tips to help identify their age. If you find a molding plane with steeply chamfered edges along the top and a round profile cut into the end of the wedge, chances are it was made in the eighteenth century. On the other hand, rounded or lightly chamfered edges along the top, and an ellipse shape on the wedge indicates a nineteenth century (or later) origin. The maker's mark is also a sign of age, assuming you know your plane makers. But don't confuse an owner's mark with a maker's mark or you'll really be confused. Molding planes often have strips of boxwood inset into the sole to resist wear at the most delicate areas of the profile. As he talks, Roy is kneeling next to a wooden box he built using at least one of these planes. He formed the ovolo profile on the edge by holding one of the molding planes at the proper "spring angle". This is the angle that the maker intended for the plane to be held, as indicated by a line scratched into the toe of the plane. Many molding planes are not designed to be held perpendicular to the work piece, so it is critical that you know what the spring angle is, and have the skill to hold it accordingly. Roy's box also includes a double beaded groove cut into the front, about an inch from the edge. He uses a beading plane with an adjustable fence to cut the profile, which is something that I hadn't previously seen. It looks much like a moving fillister plane, except it cuts beads instead of rabbets. (Rabbit cutters, baby coffin smoothers- who names these things?) Roy doesn't tell us which Williamsburg shop he swiped these particular planes from, but molding planes are common in cabinet shops and would also be familiar to any carpenter that makes his own moldings.

On top of a barrel behind him we see our twelfth and thirteenth planes of the day. "Whose shop in Colonial Williamsburg do you think these planes came from?" Of course, the barrel ruined the surprise. These are the tools of the cooper, which I always thought to be a strange name for a barrel maker. Of course if I spoke Dutch I would know that "kuper" is derived from the word "kupe" which means basket or tub. But it really doesn't matter because a cooper makes all sorts of things aside from barrels. Roy doesn't take the time to give us this lesson in medieval Dutch, he's too distracted by the unique shape of the cooper's planes. "You can hardly even recognize it as a plane. I'll even tell you what it's called. It's called a Howell." It's buddy on top of the barrel is called a "sun plane" or a "topping plane", and looks like a jack plane that has been bent sideways into an arc. Topping planes are used to smooth the rim of a barrel. While we look at these two strange tools Roy removes the top of the barrel and sticks his head deep inside. I expect him to emerge with a wet face and an apple in his teeth, but instead he produces a fourteenth plane. This one looks like a spoke shave with a hearty appetite. It's fat and round and is used to smooth the staves inside the barrel. The Howell is used to shape the inside of the rim in advance of a grooving plane called a "croze." And wouldn't you know it, Roy has a rhyme about this: "The Howell precedes the croze, as you well knows." Well, we do now. He don't have a croze plane for today's show, but he does have a five foot long mega-plane that is either the smoother of a giant, or another cooper's tool. It turns out to be the latter. It is laid upside down as you pass your stave material over the sole to create a bevel along the edges. They judge the angle by eye, which is quite a feat if you ask me.

Our sixteenth example is another molding plane, but this one is nearly four inches wide. The iron features two ogees and a fillet, which is a lot of profile to cut at once. So a hole has been bored through the toe to accommodate a handle. Once the handle has been inserted through the plane you can attach a long tow rope. Two or three guys can pull the rope while a fourth uses his body weight to hold the plane down on the work piece. Who knew creating crown moldings required a four man plane? I have to say, I would rather be the guy riding the plane than one of the pullers. That just sounds like good clean fun, if you ask me. Nearby lies another specialty molder, a "sash muntin plane". As the name suggests, this is used to create the profiles on window sashes. And next to that we see the strangest plane of all. It looks like a small wooden cask with a handle sticking out of the base. When Roy picks it up and lays it on his lap we see an iron in the side which makes its use obvious. This is a giant pencil sharpener. At least that was my guess, but Roy is quick to correct me. "If you have wooden water pipes in your house you know what this is…" (Wooden water pipes? What century does he think this is?) This plane is used to taper the ends of the pipes. What do planes sixteen through eighteen have in common? They are the tools of the house wright, and Roy should know. He was the chief house wright at Williamsburg. How nice of him to lend himself these planes for today's show!

The next plane is one we've seen before. Roy has used the rounder plane, or at least referred to it a couple of times in season one when he was making tool handles. These are also known as "rung engines" or by any number of other names, and their size is typically fixed. But Roy also has a rare adjustable version to show off. This one is far more complex than the fixed version, and can also be used to taper a handle. Of course you don't need a rounder plane to make a handle, you can use a "fork staff plane", which we've also seen a time or two in past episodes. These look very much like a typical round over plane, but they cut a full half circle in one swipe. They were commonly used to make handles for hay forks, thus the name. Another rounding tool came to Roy on loan from Bob Leary of Nova Scotia just in time to become the twenty-second plane of the day. This is a "spar plane", used by boat builders to make, you guessed it- the spars that hold the ship's sails. While we're talking about planes that round surfaces why not throw in an "elephant shave?" These are shaped very much like the head of the animal from which they take their name and are used to shave out the curved insides of bowls and tubs.

We've seen twenty-three hand planes so far, and to celebrate Roy finally shows us what that "spill" is for. He takes the delicate wooden straw and sticks the end into the wood stove, using it to transfer the fire to a long tobacco pipe. Spill planes were used to make piles of these strange shaped shavings, which would be placed in a basket and used to move a flame from one place to another. After a couple of puffs he puts the pipe down and we cross the shop to find a hand adze and a timber laying on the floor. I sense a history lesson! He imagines himself an ancient workman trying to smooth the wood for "some Byzantine fellow," only to be frustrated by the way the shavings split off ahead of the adze with each chop. So he uses his foot to hold the shaving down, chopping beneath his sole. Of course in those days he would have been working barefoot, and it wouldn't take long before he realized he needed a better way to hold the shaving down until the sharp edge could sever it without severing his digits. The answer was to put the cutter into a wooden box, attach a handle and call it a hand plane. The sole of the plane replaced the sole of his foot while a flat iron is held in place with a wooden wedge. In the late eighteenth century someone added a second layer to the blade, called a cap iron or chip breaker, which forces the shaving to rise at a sharp angle, breaking it off before it can tear the wood fibers ahead of the blade.

Enough of the history lesson, time to learn some planning techniques. He takes a split plank and begins flattening it with a "raze plane", a name that refers to the way the wooden body is cut down at the rear to make room for a "D" shaped handle. This places the thrust of the user's hand closer to the wood. But you don't really need a "raze" to begin flattening your rough stock. The important thing is to use a short plane with a wide mouth and the iron "rank set", which means set to take a deep cut and produce a thick shaving. As you start to flatten the board you move on to longer planes with tighter mouths that take finer shavings. The longest are called "jointer planes" because you can get two edges so smooth that they will appear to join seamlessly together. If you want a stronger joint you may use "tongue and groove" planes, one to create the tongue and the other to create the groove. He demonstrates all of these techniques within the space of about four minutes before showing us a combination plane, a plow plane, a set of three transitional planes, a router plane, and an old woman's tooth for making dados. Before wrapping up he whips out a rabbet plane and takes a few strokes as the music plays. That's thirty-five planes in twenty-six minutes, and a true classic episode of the Woodwright's Shop!
 
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