Publisher’s note: It’s the weekend, which means it’s time for Earlywood, a free excerpt from one of the thousands of pieces I’ve written since 1996. This is a mashup of a post that originally appeared on the Lost Art Press blog in 2014, and an excerpt from “The Anarchist’s Tool Chest,” which, as of a week ago, is now available as a free PDF download, now and forever. We hope you enjoy it.
My first woodworking job was at Therma-Tru, a door-making factory in Arkansas. For eight hours a day, I cut rails and stiles for fireproof doors on a sloppy and unguarded radial-arm saw.
To say I hated that machine isn’t a fair measure of the word “hate.” I was scared of the machine, and I would have a close call almost every day when the saw would lurch or bind.
But when I inherited my grandfather’s tools and machines in 1993, I was thrilled to obtain his sloppy, unguarded Craftsman radial-arm saw (aka the “radical-harm” saw).
For me, whether or not I like a tool has nothing to do with whether it’s powered by hand or electricity. Instead, it is about whether the tool keeps me “down on the farm” or sets me free. I know it sounds like a dime-store Marxist theory, but it’s true. (And if you think I’m a Marxist, then we haven’t met.)
I’m not alone in this line of thinking. The first time I ever visited Frank Klausz, it was to shoot some photos for an article on dovetailing, for which he is a well-known savant. The photographer, Al Parrish, and I flew into Newark, N.J., late in the afternoon and Frank graciously insisted we come by his shop for a visit before the photo shoot the next day.
Frank’s Cabinet Shop is a large, clean and efficient commercial shop. The walls are covered in hand tools. Many are for display; many are for use. And the machinery is well cared for. After a tour and some chit-chat, the photographer asked Frank a question that took me by surprise, mostly for the fact that I don’t ask it myself more often.
“Frank,” Al asked, “what’s your favorite tool?”
Without hesitation, Frank started striding to the back of his shop. “Come,” he said. “I’ll show you.”
With Frank’s reputation as a dovetailing genius and his traditional training, I was expecting his answer to be some sort of traditional tool, perhaps something from his native Hungary, perhaps something handed down to him by his cabinetmaking father.
Nope. Not even close. Instead, we stopped at a stroke sander, a huge piece of industrial machinery. Frank launched into a speech about how much time this machine saved him. How much labor. And how he could use it to sand curved surfaces like no other machine.
I was surprised, but only for a moment. Sometimes the personae of a person gets filtered through the media in a way that’s basically right but not quite the whole story. Frank loves his hand tools and is a master at hand-dovetailing because he teaches it everywhere he goes. But when it comes to the day-in-day-out work….
Machinery, when properly used, is like having some noisy apprentices. You have to always be the one in control. You have to know how to direct them. And you never ever let them take charge of the shop.
Despite my love for handplanes, chisels and handsaws, I will never speak ill of my thickness planer, jointer or table saw. All of the machines in the previous sentence have allowed me to squirm free of being employed by someone else. Because I own those tools, I am entitled to the fruits of my labor (and theirs).
I use my machines to deal with rough stock. Dimensioning rough lumber by hand is time-consuming. Doing it by machine is child’s play. Then I’ll use it for roughing out some of the joinery, including mortises, tenons and rabbets. Everything else gets done by hand because it is safer, more accurate, faster or looks better in the end.
When I crank up my table saw, I am grateful for its ability to rip hundreds of feet of stock for a woodworking class or for a customer. When I remove the burr from the back of a chisel, I am thankful for its ability to chop and pare dovetails to an airtight fit.
Most of all, I love the fact that all of my tools allow me to build things that suit my aesthetic, that use raw materials that are renewable and that will last well beyond my short life.
Bottom line: I dislike adjectives (not to mention the dirty, filthy adverb). When I say I’m a woodworker, I don’t want anything modifying the noun. Just “woodworker.”
Machine-buying Principles
I can cite model numbers and brand names by heart, but that won’t help you because the powered machinery business changes so fast that the information becomes outdated before you can get it into print. Heck, I’ve seen Black & Decker replace its line of cordless drills three times in a calendar year. That is just bewildering.
But I can give you some helpful principles that never change when buying electric things.
Buy good brands. It sounds like a no-brainer. But so many woodworkers are such cheap wieners that they end up buying tools from discounters that have no track record. No-name tools always stink. I can say this because I’ve tested them. I’ve had routers flame out on me. Nail guns squirt oil all over my work. Miter saws that couldn’t cut straight.
Purchase tools that you have observed on job sites, ones look like they have some miles on them. These tools cost more than the stuff aimed at the weekend picture-hanger, but they will last you a lifetime.
Shoot for the middle. If you spend more than 15 minutes shopping for tools, you’ll notice that they are clustered around three different price points. There will be a low-end price point ($200 table saws, for example). These tools are designed to be used a couple times, or not at all, then thrown away. Really. No lie. Stay away from these tools. At the other end of the spectrum are tools that cost an incredible amount of money ($6,000 table saws, for example). These are great machines, but their benefits do not befit their price for a home woodworker.
So shoot for the cluster in the middle ($1,000 table saws, for example). These mid-range tools are going to be sought out by the frugal tradesperson – a good place to be.
If you want a quick education in which tools are in the middle range, check out the local or Internet classified listings. The used machines that retain their value – about 60 percent of their new price – are the machines you want.
Buy vintage if you dare. In the last 20 years, most machinery manufacturing has gone overseas to Taiwan and China. Some of the toolmakers have done this gracefully, and the quality control is excellent. Other makers have botched it royally and are just selling their faded nameplate on crappy goods and hoping that no one notices.
If you don’t want to research this topic to death, one way to get around the problem is to buy used machinery from the disco era or earlier. You can save some serious money and get a better machine. The only real problem is that you need to be able to evaluate the machine before you buy it. Are the bearings shot? (That’s always a deal-killer in my book.) Are the critical adjustments still adjustable? Is the motor fried? Do you need to replace the wear parts, such as belts, tires, guides etc.?
In other words, you need to educate yourself before you blindly buy. Go to Vintage Machinery and just start reading. In a few days you’ll be ready to go vintage.
I will tell you that there are deals to be had. I bought my 14" Delta band saw for about half of what it would have cost new and it is 100-percent solid. Every part but one is solid metal. And the sucker just hums.
Metal, not plastic. An easy way to size up a machine is to examine its parts. Are the handles and adjustment knobs plastic or metal? (Aluminum counts as a metal.) Metal is always better than plastic. No exceptions.
You can take a somewhat-obsolete tour of my machine room here.
Going middle is good advice for buying lots of things. But machinery for sure.
I watched the horse garage tour. You guys need some foliage in the beer garden! Also, a Kegerator that’s accessible 24/7. ;)
On a more topical note, I guess you’re a fan of shelix heads? I’ve heard conflicting opinions. No personal experience with them.