I offer for submission a Shaker-style table (nightstand) that I completed 6 or 7 years ago, and only now borrowed the camera to take photos of. Oh well.

This table was made out of Texas cherry (I don’t know that it’s different from anywhere else, just bigger, I suppose.) The cherry does have some pretty wild grain. This was my first attempt to complete a project exclusively using hand tools, and I failed in that I couldn’t figure out how to make a consistent taper on the legs, so I made a taper jig for my table saw. It seems so easy to do that now…

This was also my first attempt at hand-cut blind dovetails, which turned out okay. I bruised the edges assembling the drawer (sheesh), but nothing has fallen apart so far. The mortises and tenons turned out well, however.

You’ll note that the top sports some racy breadboard ends and has what looks like blotching in the picture. I don’t know why the photo came out that way—it doesn’t appear blotchy at when you look at it. You will note that the knob doesn’t appear to fit the piece, and that’s because it’s one of the inexpensive big box jobs. I wasn’t able to turn anything at the time. I still can’t, until I get my treadle lathe finished.

The table was finished with one coat of boiled linseed oil which was allowed to dry for at least a week (near as I remember) and then two or three coats of polyurinate. No stains—the rich color comes from the combo of BLO and patina.

I know that this is not one of your uber-fashionable mission-style-asian-influenced Woodsmith projects. I continue to be drawn to the restrained simplicity and functional beauty of the Shakers. I’m looking forward to taking my wife to Pleasant Hill while we are in Berea, as a matter of fact. I have another one of these tables I started for my dad, and still have yet to complete. I need to do that before I’m too old to hold a chisel.

It’s funny how sometimes the things you really need actually do fall into your lap… sort of. I’ve never owned anything more than a 9” band saw, and apparently I’ve spent at least three decades making projects out of straight lumber, because I’ve gotten on without one. Now I have a commission that required cabriole-esque legs, hence the need for a band saw. In my research, I’ve discovered that several reliable sources indicate that one should purchase a band saw prior to purchasing any other stationary power tools… sigh…

A friend called recently and said, “Hey, I’ve got a dead band saw here. Do you want to try to fix it?” I hesitantly agreed to, not thinking I wanted to try to repair a trashed-out ancient 9” Craftsman saw. Turns out it is an old saw, but… it’s a Powermatic 043. Cord was cut, no tires, guides frozen, and it was missing a few small parts such as the table and trunions (photo 1.) $8.95 power cord at Lowes, $3.00 in hardware, some 3-in-1 oil for the guides, and some spare ply… It works, but it’s not fancy. In the future (when things get calmer) I’ll add some red oak banding around the table, round the corners, and fabricate a rip fence.

In the mean time, this tool is acceptable for me to own as a Galoot on the grounds that it was the perfect bottom-feeder acquisition.

(Film noir narrative mode active:)
So I’m working on a large project that is going to need a lot of tenons. With tenons, of course, come mortises. I figured I’m going to be chopping mortises with my crispy new Sorby chisel, and my old faithful Estwing leather-gripped hammer, while a noble tool indeed, is not what I need to be banging on the blunt end of a chisel with. Furthermore, I had a block of 8/4 purpleheart laying around, as well as a couple of pieces of mesquite rejectd from the local sawmill, so I decided I would laminate a couple of mallets, one large and one small. The large one is purpleheart with a red oak core and handle. The handle is a work in progress, although it does have a sweet spot developing nicely. It was supposed to be a bit larger than it is, but as I was cutting corners (literally) and not using Galoot-methods in order to save some time, my 1/2” round over bit launched a purpleheart bullet from one upper corner. I have integrated the experience into my central processor which yields that while purple heart is so hard it will burn before the belt sander sands it, it is extremely brittle, a fact I will need to be aware of before I actually hit something with it. On the other hand, the smaller of the two mallets is made with all native Texas woods; mesquite, with a cedar handle. Cedar is probably a stupid choice for a handle, but I was interested in a little sensory gratification—it smelled SO good, and it pared SO sweetly. Tried out Japanese chisels for the first time, and was very surprised. Very nice. Also tried wedged tenons for the first time—my hands hurt so much from fitting them that it’s hard to type, but they look slick. Tell me what you think!

I was in one of those strange places where I could not work on a big project because I didn’t have time to work to a stopping point, and yet I absolutely had to do some woodworking. This is an afternoon project designed to organize our supper table and score points with my bride (success, both counts.) Made from scraps, it is laminated from red oak, walnut, and an offcut of Bolivian rosewood I had on hand. A few passes through the jointer, a few passes through the lunchbox planer, a 2 hour glue-up while I emptied my dust collector and did a few other chores, and a slap-together circle template for the router, and Bob’s your uncle. 1/4” roundover on the top, 1/4” cove to make the thickness appear, well, thinner, a light sanding and a couple of shots of spray on poly. Learned that I don’t care for the spray poly. Learned that I need to learn more about photographic lighting.

Besides all of this, it’s been a while since I posted a project, so I thought I’d better get with it.

A galoot I am. A galoot needs a really old-fashioned, proper storage space for all those ridiculous, obsolete hand tools that dance like visions of sugar-plum fairies… well, you know. Sort of the antithesis of Tim Allen. When I realized this to be truth, I began a year-long quest for the perfect tool chest, and was surprised to find that such a thing was as nebulous as the Holy Grail, so I did the predictable thing and designed my own. Someday I’ll finish it, too!
The inspiration comes from a composite of great features I found in Tauton’s “The Toolbox Book” (Jim Tolpin,) and from a coffee table we had in our living room while I was growing up that was actually my dad’s Uncle Roy’s tool chest. Uncle Roy was a professional carpenter whenever he permitted earning an honest living to interfere with his fishing.
The sides of the tool chest are birch plywood, because I reasoned that they would be greatly stressed when the toolbox was moved, and because I figured that being an itinerate preacher at the time would bring the chest into widely varying humidities and the carcass would at least offer some stability. Once I began building the tills to some pretty close tolerances, I realized how good a call this is. The bottom of the chest is made of tongue and groove fir, tongues and grooves milled by my crispy match plane (Stanley No-48.) The lid is Tennessee Black Walnut, glued up and planed to make a floating panel. The border and ledgers sport hand-cut dovetails.
The box features three divided compartments in the bottom: one for large bench planes (a No.-8, a No.-5, a No.-4c, and a No.-3) one for my various bits and braces and a couple of levels, and one for miscellaneous tools that haven’t found a home yet. Above that is a sliding shelf made of cherry that is one compartment wide. The shelf track is also used to support the three tills: one 5 drawer till featured in the photos, one saw till containing a variety of rather dull Disstons, and one for my present barely adequate chisels that will hopefully someday be replaced with much better ones. The till carcasses and dividers are made of the same walnut as the lid, while the drawer fronts are made of cherry (couldn’t tell by the sapwood, could you?) The chisel till indexes into the saw till and forms it’s lid, and when they are stacked they form a mirror image of the drawer till.
This chest (like my own) is a work in progress, and fortunately the woodwoorking is going better than the photography. I’ve yet to take the time to add some dividers where they are needed, and to add a walnut apron around the outside of the chest at the bottom, but those are in the plans as well. I’ll post updates as I complete these steps, if we are not too old to read by then.

Well, not exactly a Martin, but…
I decided that it was about time to try my hand at making an acoustic steel-string guitar, and being a bluegrasser from way back, I immediately thought, “Martin.” I called the factory and found out they offered “kits,” which are really packages of wood, binding, and fretwire, not to much more that you can get out of a luthier’s supply catalog, so I ordered one. Except, my “kit” isn’t one of their “kits.” It contains certain upgrades, such as the abalone inlay purfling and rosettes. As one might expect, the body literally flew together, and then come the details… each length of abalone needs to be mitered by hand (file and sandpaper) to the next length. Making the tight corners is the real chore, where a single length needs to be mitered several times to make the radius. Right now I’m working up the nerve to do some peghead inlay work, but I’m not really sure what it is I want up there.
I did get Martin to pre-bend the sides for me, but in retrospect I wish I would have bit the bullet and come up with some sort of bending iron to do the job. It would have saved me money. Incidentally, the top is Sitka Spuce, the back, sides, and peghead veneer are Indian Rosewood, and the neck mahogany. All hand tools except for the binding and rosette routing, which was done with a Dremel. Any suggestions for the peghead inlay?

Those of you that are banjo aficionados (both of you!) may recognize that many of these components or raw materials came from Stew-Mac, arranged in such a manner as to make a rather unique old-timey sounding, bluegrass looking… banjo. I love bluegrass, and I already play guitar, mandolin, and bass, so I thought I might like to take up the banjo and sort of be my own bluegrass band. I forgot two things: 1. The banjo is nothing like the other instruments, and 2. You can’t play them all at once. Still a fun instrument to play once you get the basic rolls down, and given a room with any sort of resonance, you can go and watch a football game after playing for a little while, come back after the game, and the banjo music will still be ringing around in the room for your listening pleasure.
This one has some wild maple (I’m not sure if it’s the banjo that is that loud, or the flaming in the maple!) I’ve added a few unusual details such as the resonator binding and the walnut veneer on the heel. Still, very fun project to build, all with hand tools except for my electric drill. I would do it again!

Many years ago I had a neighbor who had purchased this old Chliean Mauser from our Government, and purchased a stock blank from Herter’s back when it was in business (the 1960’s.) His intention was to sporterize a high-quality rifle without needing to pay for a big name. He didn’t move very quickly on the project, because all he had accomplished was having a gunsmith weld on a new bolt handle, bob about 4” off the barrel, and to rout an overly-huge channel for the barrel and receiver. He got discouraged, let it set until he was too old to work on it again, and then sold it to me. I shaped the stock, added the maple embellishments, butt pad, and sling swivels, and reworked the wood-to-metal fit. The receiver is Acra-glassed into the stock. The only thing I used my table saw for was to get a clean, square cut for the butt pad and forend cap. Note the undercut cheekrest—I think I was trying to make it look a little more European at the time. It turns out that it’s a pretty good shooter, if I do my part! The stock itself is a wonderful piece of highly figured walnut and the forend cap and pistol grip caps are both maple. Finish is multiple (30+ coats of tung oil/varnish.)

It seems as though I can never leave well enough alone. While I like the feel of Ruger’s factory walnut (sort of ) stocks well enough, I had a piece of highly figured flamed maple that was just screaming for a use. Hmmm… what could I do with that? Aha! This work was 90% hand tools, the exception being the use of a drill press for accuracy in drilling for the connecting bolt and escutheons, and to bore a “mortice” for the emblem. This was a quick project that actually has yeilded something unique, fits my hand better, and has provided a ton of pleasure! The only complaint I have with it is that my son likes this setup waaayyy too much!

You always hear about the high cost of smoking, but I didn’t realize they meant the “good life” accessories. Being who I am, I simply resolved to make my own. I found a couple of photos of an old Dunhill humidor on eBay once, and set about duplicating it. The component of this piece I find most interesting is the coopered lid; edges of the individual staves (6 if I remember correctly) were all planed to an angle, edge-glued together, and then the seams planed to make the rounded effect. After the lumber was dimensioned from raw flitchs down to 1/2” using a table-saw and thickness planer, all other work was done neander-style: using hand tools only. The only thing I regret—and I don’t know what I was thinking—was the use of brads to help support the assembly while the glue dried. What I learned was how much linseed oil will make a brad head scream at you in walnut. Exterior, as noted, is in walnut, interior is Spanish Cedar. There is a cool secret compartment underneath the humidor (that is no longer secret.) What is really strange is that soon after completing the project (several years ago) I stopped smoking. Note the dust (and the clever use of a white sheet as background!)