BONA FIDE WORKS

[ bōnə ˈfīdē/ (adj.) 1. genuine; real. ]

[bonafideworks]

[affinecreations]

The history of mankind is in woodworking; all cultures have a story of how wood has been used both functionally and decoratively.

Nicholas Phillips, in an interview with the Silver Spring Patch.

[bonafideworks]

"What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step. It is always the same step, but you have to take it." —Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

The first formal instruction in my hand tool education was a Hand Cut Dovetail class I signed up for at a nearby woodworking supply store a few weeks ago. The instructor was an area furniture maker with over 55 years experience, and the class consisted of three gentlemen about 20-30 years my senior, and my eager self. All in all, I considered the day to be a success; I walked away with my first dovetails—a pair of through and half-blind—and also, the confidence to keep practicing and continuing to learn more.

Having never cut a dovetail, I barely knew a pin from a tail, Continental from European style, a rip from a crosscut, or why you'd choose a 1:6 or 1:8—or a 1:4—dovetail slope. The use of dovetails predates written history, showing up in the ruins and artifacts of several ancient civilizations, the Egyptian, Roman, and Chinese cultures all used dovetails, and this strong joint has also been a symbol of fine furniture craftsmanship in recent centuries. Some speculate the popular use of dovetail joinery was less glamorous and more practical, with the tight interlocking pattern and increased surface area for glue, the woodworkers could save money by not needing metal fasteners.

I don't know if that explains the wide use of dovetails in furniture making, but I do know the appeal of a well formed dovetail joint is hard to deny. My first joints were expectedly a little rough, but I still thought it was pure magic when I pressed the tails into the pins of the Cherry front on my first half-blind dovetails. 

We started the class off with light discussion and people sipped coffee as we waited for the last students to arrive. The only "dovetail saw" I owned was an inexpensive Japanese style pull-saw made by Irwin, picked up at a big box some years ago. I was very proud of the few freshly sharpened chisels I brought, rolled up in a small bath towel, and the rest of the contents of my cardboard tool box was as follows: a mallet, a marking knife, a marking gauge, a divider, a compass, a small try square, a small ruler, and a couple of sharpened Dixon Ticonderoga's. The teacher brought in a few demo tools from the store and invited us to use them for class, so I grabbed the very fine Rob Cosman, white Corian handled dovetail saw you see in the pictures, and left the Irwin in my cardboard tool box.

It doesn't make sense to try to run before you can walk, just like it doesn't make sense to try to saw a dovetail before you've learned how to saw correctly in the first place. The goal of the first exercise was to try to saw straight down about an inch or more, and then saw down again as close as you can to the previous kerf without cutting into it. A quick bit of vocabulary in case you are unfamiliar—"kerf" is the width of a saw cut, and commonly used to refer to the gap left behind by a saw, where the wood was removed. (I'd disappoint Mr. Underhill if I didn't also share that "kerf" is used to define the cut end of a felled tree, but for our purposes, let's focus on the former context.) 

This exercise proved to be more challenging than you might think, especially if you push yourself to get your kerf lines as close as possible. I found that I wanted to grip the saw too firmly, which caused my arm to twist ever-so-slightly counter-clockwise, which lead the saw to track ever-so-slightly to the right as it cut downward. I've heard it explained, that you should try to hold the saw as if it were a baby bird in your hand—grip too firmly and you will hurt the poor bird; grip too loosely, and the bird will fly away. As I observed my tendency to track, I considered the cause, corrected my grip, and gradually got better at cutting more squarely.

We moved on from the warm up exercise, and went straight into cutting our first set of through dovetails. These are the classic dovetails that show the wood grain coming through on both faces of the joint—the tails on one side, the pins on the other. The tails in dovetails, are the wide, angled pieces, and the pins are their thinner, straight complements. I was nervous as we began, and I didn't quite hit my layout lines 100% of the time when sawing, but I knew I would be able to shape the pins to fit the gap, regardless of how off track I was. And after all, it was my first time, so I wasn't trying to be too hard on myself. I think I went a little overboard when pairing down the tails with a chisel, especially between test fits—I went back to check it after making a few adjustments, and it was already a little too loose. But, if you slapped some glue in there, I'm sure it would hold together just fine. The dovetail is a powerful joint, even when it's a little sloppy. 

The next joint we learned was the half-blind dovetail. These are practical and visually pleasing joints, commonly used to attach drawer fronts to the sides of drawers. The joint is hidden from the front face of the wood, but it is just as strong as a conventional dovetail. The conventional dovetail can be cut using a dovetail saw, and the waste can be chopped out with a chisel, or some people like to use coping of fret saws to gut out the bulk of the waste. The teacher demonstrated using chisels to chop out the waste for through dovetails, and it was good practice to learn this way, because half-blind dovetails rely even more on chisel work to clean out the back half of the joint. For some reason, maybe I was just warmed up, but I found the half-blind dovetails easier to layout and cut, and my first joint pushed together like butter. I was beaming, so proud of my handiwork, but also truly proud that I took this first step toward learning more, and I look forward to the steps that follow.    

I will make a post in the future going over the layout process, and the sawing and chopping of the two types of dovetail joints I discussed. I would've taken more step-by-step pictures in the class, but I didn't want to be that guy, and I also didn't know if I'd end up with anything photo-worthy. I think I did alright for my first time, and I learned a thing or two.   

One tip I picked up in my readings was to look at the reflection of the wood in the saw blade to help align your saw square to the wood as you approach a cut. If your blade is clean enough to be reflective, and it should be somewhat clean for efficient cutting, you can look at the angle of the wood in the reflection and match it to the angle of the actual wood, and when they are aligned, your saw is essentially square. You can see this demonstrated in the picture with my prized new dovetail saw, made by Lie-Nielsen in Warren, Maine.

I ordered that saw the day after I finished this class, and I couldn't be happier with it, but—there's an opportunity to learn from me here—I wouldn't recommend buying a dovetail saw as your first saw, unless you primarily plan on cutting dovetails. The class taught me that learning to saw is more than learning to saw straight lines, or even small dovetails, it's about body mechanics, and comfort and familiarity with the tools. There is some measure of intuition, but it's mostly about practice and experience. If you can train your muscles to handle a full sized hand saw, a panel saw, or even a tenon or carcase saw, you can fine tune those skills on the more delicate dovetail saw. Dovetail saws are also typically filed for making rip cuts—that is, they are meant to traverse parallel to the wood grain. If you had a board that was 36" long, 2" thick, and 8" wide, but you needed a board that was 36" long, 2" thick, and only 6" wide, you would make a rip cut, or rip, on the waste side of a line drawn at 6", down the 36" length, leaving your board the final dimensions of 2"X6"X36". Crosscuts, on the other hand, cut perpendicular to, or across, the wood grain. So if you needed to shorten that same board to 2"X6"X32", you would make a crosscut on the waste side of a line drawn 32" from the end, across the 6" width of the board, cutting off a piece a little shorter than 4" long. I know that can get confusing to read.

Rip down the length, cut across the width.

I plan to have more posts about which tools to consider buying first, but to touch briefly on what I've learned about saws, I've heard it recommended more than once that your first, nice back saw should be a carcase saw. Carcase saws are typically filed crosscut, and they are slightly larger than their cousin the dovetail saw, so it is a convenient size to cut medium to small sized wood, especially cutting to length across the grain on a bench hook. (What's a bench hook? Why not build one, and a shooting plane at the same time. Well, what's a shooting plane? Just read the article.) Carcase saws are also good for defining the sides of dados, precise crosscuts to make tenons or lap joints, and as their name implies, it is well suited for cutting across the grain of the wood used to build a carcase or main body of a cabinet. 

Maybe your woodworking plans include working large timbers, and you need a larger hand saw cut the thick beams, or maybe you do only want to make small dovetail boxes, then it might be a good idea to invest in a quality dovetail saw—the point I've gathered, is that you should invest in the saw that you will most often use. Pretty straightforward. I can understand, that the wide world of woodworking might be new to you, as it was to me, and you might not be sure which saw you'll use most often. Keeping digging in, and see what strikes you, once you find a particular motivation to build something—ask yourself, "which tools do I need to build this?" I bought the dovetail saw, but then started looking at the projects I wanted to build, and realized I might've been better served investing in a carcase saw or set of panel saws. Fortunately, my dovetail saw will get used, it's just something to keep in mind when your funds are limited and you have to prioritize the order in which you buy your tools. Buy as you go, and buy the best tools you can afford. It is better to buy a quality tool once, than to have to keep buying cheap tools over and over, for the rest of your life. Also consider buying a used, restored saw—it will likely be much cheaper than buying new, and you won't feel bad if you are a little rough while still trying to get comfortable with the saw. A rough crosscut saw is a good place to start, and can also be used with a bench hook. A rough rip saw is a good companion to that. A finer crosscut saw would round out all of your hand saw or panel saw needs, but if you have a carcase saw, it can perform many of the same light to medium duty tasks of a fine toothed crosscut panel saw. If your woodworking plans include furniture building of any type, the carcase saw remains a good option for a first saw because there is a good chance you will need to make square cuts across the grain of the common sizes of wood this saw is meant to handle. 

What was your first tool purchase?

[bonafideworks]

"It is neither wealth nor splendor; but tranquility and occupation which give you happiness." —Thomas Jefferson

Where to begin?

Just as a disclaimer, this will likely be the most personal post you will find here. I understand parts of my personal life will occasionally peek through the cracks, but the main purpose of this page is to document my journey to learn as much as I can about traditional woodworking and for me to share my experiences along that path—not to publish a public journal. This post is also longer than usual, but I think providing a little context is helpful to explain how I arrived in my current time, place, and state of mind. If you're interested, read on. 

I'm new to the world of hand tools, but I've always enjoyed working with my hands. There were times growing up, and even more recently, when I stayed up late, compulsively watching episodes of This Old House and The New Yankee Workshop. Norm was an endless fount of knowledge, and I absorbed as much as I could as a young, green kid. I marveled at Norm's workshop—his robust arsenal of shop tools, the endless techniques he could choose from to complete a given task—it was a haven where he could exist in his element. I wanted that. I think I actually admired Bob's four-and-a-half-fingered carpenter, Riley, more than Bob himself, as Riley was the one doing all the carpentry work.

Over the past few months there were many nights I found myself unable to sleep, awake into the early hours of the morning, sitting in a chair or a fold out bed at the hospital, keeping my girlfriend company while she received treatment for Small Cell Ovarian Cancer. Words fall short when trying to describe how it feels to learn the woman you love has a rare form of cancer, and that the cancer has an average survival rate of 10% beyond five years. For the rest of this post, I'll refer to her as "F"—she means everything to me, and I would do anything for her. I want nothing more in the world than to see her healthy and happy again. Recent months passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, but there were days and nights that made those months which felt like endless eternities. Only now is the dizzying world settling down enough that I'm beginning to get my bearings back.

For some reason, on those sleepless nights at the hospital, the only thing I could stomach watching was The New Yankee Workshop. Episode after episode. Norm's humble demeanor and enthusiasm for his craft, are so genuine, there is simply no room for cynicism. I'd plug headphones in, and the gentle hum of the dust collector, or the light turning of the band saw—even sounds that would seem like screeching to others—gave me a pillow of white noise to cushion my head. 

F learned her diagnosis the day after she finished nursing school, in early August. She went in for surgery to have a cyst removed from one of her ovaries. Doctors were confident it wasn't cancerous given the lack of family history and her young age. The cyst was the size of a softball, but miraculously, the surgeon was able to save that ovary. Her other ovary was already taken over by the cancer and had to be removed. She woke up confused and in pain. The doctors explained what happened to her and her family. I flew home from Japan the next day and went straight to the hospital, and I stayed there with F for several nights. 

I was traveling for work in Japan, almost 6 months into an 8 month long trip, when I found out. The job was a means to an end; F encouraged me to take the opportunity to travel and save money while she was finishing her final semesters of nursing school. I was to set out in late February, and by the time I returned home, I'd have enough money saved to leave my desk job and begin working for myself, F would likely be a licensed nurse, and we would be well on our way to building our life together. We've known each other since we were kids, barely 12 or 13, and she's the younger sister of one of my best friends. Modern technology makes it easier to keep in touch with the people you love, and we did our fair share of talking on the phone and video chat, but we also exchanged long emails while we were apart. We traded questions about life and our goals for the future, sharing pieces of our past that helped shape us into who we are, and talked about what we hoped for ourselves and for our future family. The discussions that unfold in letters are long and rich, and it's easy to miss that depth with the quick convenience of modern communication. It was a great way to get to know even more about someone you've known all your life by using a completely new format, and we really bonded through the process. We had big plans for the year ahead, and we wanted to hit the ground running as soon as I returned. Life, as it turned out, had its own set of big plans. 

Sometimes, it's all you can do to wake up, put one foot in front of the other, and keep pushing forward. And yet, you must—every day. I can't explain how grateful I am for the steadfast love and support of our family and friends, for truly there is no way to navigate such darkness without the warmth and goodness of those near and dear to us. So many good people have been there to help along the way, bringing food, offering support, making thoughtful gifts, and just being there—every bit of it has made all the difference. 

I hope you've made it this far, because I think we're all due for some good news at this point. It is with great pleasure that I'm able to share the exceptionally good news, that during the last visit to her oncology office, the doctor explained F's most recent CT scan showed "no visible sign of tumors". One more time— "no visible sign of tumors". What a powerful feeling, to know that the immense struggles endured over the past few months, the tortuous side effects of the chemo drugs, were paying off, and the aggressive treatment was producing positive results. The doctor didn't say "remission", or that they were certain there were no tumors, but the fact that any remaining tumors would have to be smaller than you can see with the naked eye, that was the best news I'd heard in months. F recently completed her sixth and final scheduled round of chemotherapy—a cause for celebration in itself—and now, we wait. Around the middle of January they will perform another scan, and the results will determine the path forward. If they still see no visible signs of tumors, they will likely do some lab work and ask her to return in another month, to repeat the process. This would continue on for several months or more, then after a while they might allow more time between visits, and eventually she may only need to see the doctor every six months. If the tumors return, then a new plan of attack for treatment would be proposed, and we go from there.

I am thankful that I took the job abroad. It was a logistics position for a team installing new computer hardware, nothing too glamorous, but I worked with some great people, and the places we traveled to made it much more interesting. I also managed to save enough money to leave my day job when I returned home, and that allowed me to be the primary caregiver for my girlfriend the past few months, and there is almost no other way I would have been able to do that. That's not to say I haven't had help along the way. I said it before but it bears repeating, I'm very grateful to have such amazing family and friends.

In another life, I was a graphic designer. Ok, so maybe in this life, I'm still a graphic designer. But I only do it on the side—or for myself, or a good cause. I graduated with a BFA with graphic design emphasis, and there have been some projects I've enjoyed working on throughout the years, but experience has taught me time and again, I'm not the kind of person who who will feel satisfied in life if I spend all my days sitting in front of a computer screen. I do enjoy sitting in front of a computer screen from time to time (as this entry grows that fact becomes more and more clear), but if it's the only thing I do, all day, every day, I feel like I'm going to short circuit. I need  to stand up, move around, get dirty, scrape my knuckles, and put my hands to work. 

I knew I was ready to work for myself, and wanted graphic design work to be part of that, but even before I returned home from my trip, I'd made up my mind that I wanted to learn more about wood working, and build a small workshop for myself with some of the money I saved while away. At that point, the dream was a Norm, New Yankee-style workshop, stocked up with the standard power tools you might find in any garage workshop, and the thought that I would own a set of planes, or a carcase saw, or a spokeshave, had yet to even cross my mind.

Five or six years ago I worked for a friend who built custom cabinets, vanities, other built-ins, and he also did some home remodeling and repair. I learned a lot working with him; he was a talented and knowledgeable guy, and he had a certain ease and comfort while working that made everything he did seem like instinct, and I envied that. It was my first job working with wood, and I quickly had to figure out how to navigate the all the different tools found in the cabinet shop and on the job site. It was hard work, yet incredibly gratifying, and I gained a lot of valuable experience in a relatively short amount of time. Eventually, I ended up taking another job that offered benefits and higher pay, but my time working there rekindled the spark that started burning when I was young.

Over the past few months my top priority has been making myself available to take care of F. Once her initial treatment was finished, and we started to see some encouraging positive results, the practical demands of the real world started rearing their heads once again; things like needing to pay rent, buy food, and pay for health insurance—all of which meant finding additional ways to supplement income. The time had finally come, to revisit my interest in wood working. I started looking for good deals on used shop tools. I started reading as much as I could about tips for new wood workers, where to begin, how to lay out your shop, projects ideas, the best jigs—anything and everything. 

Originally I thought it would be cool to start out using recycled pallet wood to build shelves and coat hooks, and other small furniture. That wood might technically be free, but it still comes with its own price. For one, it is terrible on your tools—the dirt and grit prematurely dulls your blades. You have to be extremely thorough to remove every bit of metal or rock so it doesn't turn into flying shrapnel when you cut the wood with power tools. The wood is also often dry and brittle, which can cause problems with structural integrity. It can be a challenge to identify where a pallet originally came from and what treatments or chemicals might have been applied to it, and that is a liability worth considering; if you are selling someone a piece of furniture they place in their family home, potentially around their young children—you need to feel confident the material used to build it is safe. (Having said all that, you can still make some pretty cool stuff with pallet wood, especially if you have a reliable source for the pallets, and you're willing to put up with some of the issues mentioned above.)

I decided to leave the uncertain world of pallet wood behind, and I moved on to the idea of making quality hardwood cutting boards and other wooden serving trays. I also wanted to learn how to carve spoons and other wooden utensils to sell along with them. This path lead me to learn more about food safe finishes, and I was surprised to learn how common it was to use mineral oil to condition wood surfaces that contact food. While all finishes are technically food safe once they are fully cured, mineral oil is a byproduct of distilling petroleum, and I'd rather not rely on a petroleum product to finish my food safe surfaces. I began working on my own blend of bees wax wood conditioner, that is all natural, free from tree nut allergens, and is not derived from petroleum. It's called Wood's Best Friend, and it will be available for sale in my online shop in early in 2015.

I blame my uncle for what happened next.

My parents went to visit my grandmother in Maine, and my uncle lives nearby in Vermont. He inherited some old hand tools from his uncles, my great uncles, and he has always been a general jack of all trades. In recent years he has renewed his interest in woodworking, and has taken several courses at Lie-Nielsen's headquarters while visiting my grandmother in Maine. My uncle heard that I was developing an interest in working with wood, so he gathered up some odds and ends to pass on to me; duplicates he had, and a few older tools that just needed a tuning up, he gathered some instructional materials on tuning vintage planes, an introduction to hand tools, and the crowning piece, was a shiny, brass handled, Lie-Nielsen spokeshave. He won the spokeshave as a door prize while visiting the Lie-Nielsen shop one afternoon, and on that particular afternoon, he happened to purchase the full set of 3 spokeshaves, so he passed on the prize to me. He followed up with several emails, directing me towards a wide range of valuable resources around the web.

Meet Roy Underhill. Meet Christopher Schwarz. Meet Paul Sellers. Meet Frank Klaus. Meet Peter Follansbee. How on Earth did I miss out on The Woodwright's Shop, all these years? I felt like I was robbed, but at the same time, finding it now was like discovering a buried treasure. My uncle passed along Roy's first book, and before I'd even finished reading the first page, I knew I'd found the place I belonged:

"I teach traditional hand-tool woodworking—how to start with a tree and an axe and make one thing after another until you have a house and everything in it. The satisfactions of this work are immediate and personal. You find the tree, you fell it, shape the wood, and join it together. The mistakes and successes, the accidents and discoveries are between you and the tree. 

We have spent millennia devising ways to avoid this sort of physical work, and yet we always return to it. It is a part of us. Hardwood trees and humans appeared on the planet about the same time, and the two of us have grown together."  —Roy Underhill, The Woodwright's Shop

Those words were soothing, like an old friend's voice ringing out from the past. I was fascinated by the thought that humans and trees have evolved together throughout history, and couldn't help but look at my own instinctual connection with wood. Then I read some of Christopher Schwarz's philosophy behind his book, The Anarchist's Tool Chest. In an interview with Hock Tools, Schwarz handled the question of whether or not he truly considered himself to be an anarchist:

"The answer is yes. But I don’t consider anarchism a workable philosophy to build a society upon. It is, instead, a tendency – a personal backlash against the consolidating forces of government, corporations and institutional religions. To my eye, capitalism has succeeded beyond its wildest dreams in making nations richer and labor more specialized. It has gotten to the point where these large institutions do inhumane things.

...But most of all, I seek to make things with my hands that never need to be replaced. For me, that is the ultimate statement of my anarchism – breaking the cycle of consumption and mass-production by making things that are designed to endure time and transcend style." —Chistorpher Schwarz, From an interview with Hock Tools

Amen. I understand some may find those statements controversial, but if you get past the potentially provocative words, the heart of this message is about respecting people, respecting our resources, promoting quality over quantity, and freeing yourself from modern systems of dependence. There are thousands and thousands of years of collective wisdom gathered throughout history, and as the pace of the world continues to grow faster and faster, we risk losing this invaluable knowledge. I am willing to take up the cause of the traditional woodworker, to learn as much as I am able, to preserve and pass on the lessons from our past, and also, continue to build upon that knowledge, to keep the craft relevant in our modern times. I have never felt the call of a particular path so strongly in my life, but I feel it now, and it is a most worthy path, in my humble opinion.

And so, in the Fall of 2014, Bona Fide Works was born. This is just the beginning. I appreciate you taking the time to read more about my motivation behind starting Bona Fide Works, and how I developed the interest in woodworking. I also hope you'll continue to check back and see where the road leads from here. 

Happy New Year to you and yours, may you find yourself in good health and in good company. I'm hopeful things will continue to get better for F, and I'm looking forward to making the most of a fresh start in 2015. Time to tap into some of Jefferson's wisdom; to seek a life of occupation and tranquility, and enjoy the happiness that comes from such a life.

[bonafideworks]

I can't think of a better place to start. I've had this blog for a couple months now, and in that short span of time, much has happened in my life, and much has changed. My reasons for starting this page, and even my own larger sense of purpose, have also changed. I’ve been searching for my direction for more than a couple months, but recent events have shown me that perhaps at least part of the reason why I was still “directionless" at 30 years old is that I never really had a defining moment to help make the right path clear—and as is all to common in my generation, I never really had to make a choice. I realize life doesn't typically reveal itself so plainly, and most people don't have their life’s calling served up to them on a silver platter, so not knowing exactly what you want to do isn’t an excuse to do nothing at all. I don't mean to imply that I've done nothing with my life—in fact, you might say I was only directionless because I was always running off in so many different directions. 

More on that later. That’s part of what this blog will be about. The Bona Fide Works Blog will mainly be about my quest to learn as much as I can about traditional wood working techniques, tools, and history. With a lot of hard work and dedication, my hope is that I will slowly build up the time-tested skills of a traditional wood worker and carry on the rich tradition for a new generation. I’ll share lessons learned, inspiration, and any helpful tricks and tips I pick up, and hopefully connect with others at various points in their own craftsman’s journey. I will also use this blog as a place to collect my thoughts and wax philosophical about life. As I briefly mentioned earlier, it’s been an eventful year. Last but not least, it wouldn’t be any fun unless we get to make some cool stuff along the way. 

This first post definitely falls into the “Inspiration” category. Meet Eric Hollenbeck of Blue Ox Millworks. For over 39 years, his shop has been producing custom millwork using traditional machinery in Hollenbeck’s Eureka, CA woodworker’s haven. After a lifetime of finding joy working with wood, he has created a program to give misunderstood teens a second chance to earn their high school degree while also learning traditional woodworking skills. The sense satisfaction that comes from creating something with your own hands is apparent on the students’ faces when you watch the video. Hollenbeck can be proud as he reflects back on everything he’s accomplished in his lifetime. If you have 10 minutes, give the video a watch—it is very well put together, by Breakwater Studios.

I want to be the guy in a handcar trying my best to keep up with the barreling train called society, catching all that age old wisdom getting hurled off the back.

[bonafideworks]

Just a little reminder as we start the weekend.

Negativity can be like a runaway snowball chasing us down a mountain, gathering size and strength as we try to escape its path of destruction. The larger the snowball gets, the more it commands our attention, and the more our day to day lives become a struggle to outrun the feared 'avalanche of negativity'. 

Life should be more than outrunning the potential negativity, it should be about embracing and enjoying the good things in life. We will all experience our share of strife in one form or another, but if we live constantly looking behind our back, focusing on escaping that inevitable pain, we don't allow ourselves to appreciate the good things that are already in front of us.

So rather than live life on the run, constantly in fear of the snowball of doom—just step out of its way. Let it find something else to chase. Focus on the good in front of you.

[bonafideworks]

This old plane belonged to my Great Uncle Tony, and was recently given to me by my mother. The plane was found in the basement workshop of the house where "Uncle Tony" lived—which is the same house my grandmother grew up in with my great grand parents. Based on the imprint on the front of the plane this is a Stanley No. 30 Jointer Plane. Both metal and wooden components make up the plane, so this would be considered the “transitional phase” of the Stanley planes, transitioning from all wood, to all metal. 

It has a lot of character and heft, the blade was still surprisingly sharp, and the hardware still functions as it should. I may try to clean the plane up a little bit in the future, but for now, it will reside in its distinguished place on the mantel, and serves as a reminder of my Great Uncle and my relatives, and the hard work they put in to establish a life for themselves in America.

[bonafideworks]

Hello Tumblr. Bona Fide Works, ESTD 2014.