The other is a new vimeo-on-demand series that I just posted about making an “alpine” chair, or “Brettstuhl” – I’ve made about 8 of them in the past 3 or 4 years and they’re a chair that I really enjoy learning about. The video is about 3 1/2 hours long, with one more section (about carving) to be posted within the next 2 weeks. The price is $50 – subscribers to my substack blog get 20% off – if that means anything to you…
a trailer for the series:
Here’s a 4-page PDF showing some of the geometry and other details – not plans, but some pertinent information. This is here whether you buy the series or not – because I can’t be bothered to figure out any other way!
“Me, I’m waiting so patiently, lying on the floor I’m just trying to do my jig-saw puzzle before it rains anymore” Jagger & Richards
I kept thinking about Mick & the boys while working on cutting the arches for the cupboard’s side panels. The work is all scribing, cutting and fitting. And adjusting. I first cut the arches into quarters with 90° outer corners. Then they need to be scribed and trimmed to accommodate the keystones and imposts. The one on our left below is trimmed. The one on the right needs trimming for the imposts below the arch.
I numbered them on the back so they’ll go on the cupboard in the same order. After setting them I moved onto the moldings running down the sides and across the bottom. And mostly forgot to photograph the work!
Because of the cupboard’s shape the panel this stuff gets mounted on is tilted – if the cupboard is lying on its back. That makes test-fitting a bit of a hassle. First time I made the cupboard I hit on the idea of making a mocked-up frame the same size. So did that again. It’s fine for the shapes that fit between the framing parts – probably as accurate as it needs to be.
But these bits below just hang in space under the arches – and I decided that cutting and testing those was probably a waste of time. So what I plan on doing is gluing the arches and the outer moldings in place, then fitting these 3-sided blocky bits as I go.
It’s great to be able to make this cupboard so soon after the previous version. Usually for a large, complex piece like this I can go years between versions. But following close on the heels makes it so much easier to remember what happened. As I’ve been going along on this one, I’ve been working up the text for the book. Last week I test-fit the upper case and made its rear panel. That’s a single piece of white pine running horizontally across the back. It has bevels that fit in the rear stiles and upper rail.
It’s framing I’m familiar with from the Braintree chests I’ve studied and copied over the years – somewhat unusual. The rear bottom rail supports the floor and is inside the panel. Below is looking through the open door at the back corner. The side rail has a rabbet for floor boards (just under 1/2″ thick) and they’ll in turn sit on the rear rail.
here’s a shot from making the previous version – a template I made to figure out the first floor board to go in.
I won’t get to the floor just yet, those boards are still drying. So I’ll do some of the turning, cut moldings, etc. But I do want to put the floor in before I apply the moldings and turnings to this case. Leave the finishing touches for last.
I’ve posted several new entries over on the new blog, https://peterfollansbeejoinerswork.substack.com/ up to 5 posts there now. But here’s one that hasn’t got there yet. I have a new log of near-perfect red oak (technically black oak, quercus velutina). The first things I need to get from this log are a slew of thin wide boards for drawer bottoms, soffit boards and the floor to the upper case of the cupboard I’m making. I had the bottom section of the log cut to just over 2 feet long and split that into 1/16ths to get it home.
Then I take these one at a time and split, hew & plane what I can get out of it. The trick sometimes is getting the most out of each bolt. In this case, it wanted to be split in thirds. Not always easy to do, often quite difficult. Perfect straight-grained stock helps. This log had a lot of sapwood – I split it off first thing. Firewood.
On the end of the bolt, I measure the spacing into thirds. Do this on both ends. In this case, the spacing at the narrow edge was 5/16″ or so. At the wider edge nearly 2″. Then score across those lines by whacking the froe gently into the end grain. I barely want a split to start this way.
Then ease thin wedges into the split – I use 2 at a time. Don’t strike them hard, just coax them into place.
Once those splits begin showing up down the sides of the bolt, stop. Knock those wedges out and flip the thing over & repeat.
Once a crack has started from each end, then I work the wider end first and drive the wedges in eventually splitting off one-third. Here the last action was a wedge driven in the thin edge to connect the dots.
From there it’s easy, just riving the leftover section in half. These boards were about 9″ to 9 1/2″ wide at one end, a little more than 8″ at the other.
I’ve only had good results splitting into thirds with dead-straight stock and fairly short lengths. It was Drew Langsner who first showed me that it’s even possible. Takes some extra care, hurrying doesn’t work. But in this case, that wide clear oak is worth every minute you spend to get it. These boards are rough-planed just over 1/2″ thick at the outer edge. They’ll be stacked & stickered and dried for a month or so. Then re-planed to final dimensions and installed.
I’m past the half-way point on my 2nd version of this cupboard and it will pick up speed now. It should, anyway. I wrote so much about the project when I made the first version in 2021/22 that I have ignored this one pretty much. I haven’t been shooting many photos lately, so today I thought I’d have a look at other New England cupboards so you can see how this one is similar and how it’s different.
First – what is it? A press cupboard, a wainscot cupboard, a joined cupboard, a court cupboard – those terms all can refer to something like these. Below is a 17th century one from Plymouth Colony – the area where I live – for most of the 17th century it was separate from Massachusetts Bay to the north. (photo from Metropolitan Museum of Art, NYC)
There’s a number of these Plymouth cupboards (and related chests with drawers) – the common format for the Plymouth ones is a lower case with four drawers (2 in the top row and singles below) and a cupboard with doors in the upper case. It has a flat recessed front behind two large turned pillars that support the overhanging cornice. Some of the moldings are integral, others applied. Applied turnings also. To me, the most notable feature of these pieces is the large integral moldings in the lower cases. These are roughly 2” x 2” square and feature what we call a “lipped” tenon – a section in front of the tenon that is molded. (my repro of this joint below)
At least one of the Plymouth cupboards is open below – a common feature in period cupboards of this type. A lower shelf for displaying “plate” – i.e. pewter, ceramics or better – silver. A drawer in the middle section for linens, and a cupboard above. (also the Metropolitan Museum of Art).
New Haven Colony along what is now the Connecticut coast had some very distinctive large cupboards. Flat fronted – no overhang, no pillars. Carved decoration in addition to the applied geometric stuff. (Yale University Art Gallery)
They also had the more typical format – a trapezoidal cupboard, pillars, overhanging cornice – etc. (Metropolitan Museum of Art)
From Wethersfield along the Connecticut River comes a large group of chests with drawers and cupboards – carved and applied decorations. Doors below, flat-fronted but with an overhanging cornice. To me, the most distinctive feature of these is they are built in a single, full-height case. Makes them trickier to move than the others, all of which are built in two sections so they can break down for moving. (this one from Yale University Art Gallery)
The cupboard I’m copying is one of 12 or 13 from northern Essex County, Massachusetts – most likely Newbury. But in Salem, Massachusetts comes this cupboard – now at the Peabody Essex Museum there – similar decoration – elaborate molded decoration, lots of turned bits – arches on the upper panels. Three deep drawers in the lower case. The only overhang is the cornice. An excellent cupboard.
But the joiners and turners who made the group of cupboards that I’ve been working from went further than any other New England joiners. First off, there’s a lot of their cupboards left for us to study. And each one is something different from the others – some are similar, but most are quite singular. The overhanging sections are one feature unique to this group. Remember this one at Winterthur Museum – Jennie Alexander used to call it the “lunar lander.”
One more for today – don’t be fooled by this. Irving P. Lyon, writing in the 1930s called it a “cabinet in the court cupboard style” –
I don’t know what to call it – it only has drawers, so I’m inclined to call it a chest of drawers. But it no more looks like a chest than I do. The black & white photo is pre-restoration. Here it is now, part of the Chipstone collection.
I can go years between dovetails – so it’s often as if I’m learning it again. Here’s some of what I did today cutting the half-blind dovetails for the bottom drawer on my cupboard. One nice thing about most 17th century English/New England drawers is that they have exactly one tail and one housing (I’ve never understood why it’s a “pin”.) I didn’t shoot the layout – so this section starts with just two saw cuts. I don’t know why I cut these with the board down on the bench. It was hard to see and uncomfortable too – should have propped the drawer front up vertically. I have one more drawer to go…so I’ll get a chance.
Cut chopping the bulk of the waste out it has to be down on the bench. Step one:
And step two:
It’s always discouraging to make a dovetail that’s too loose. But it’s easy to go too far the other way & make it too tight. In the case of an oak drawer side and front, that can mean splitting the drawer front. I stood the drawer front up vertically so I could see better and tested the joint.
It’s so tempting to hit it harder and drive it together. But at this point, the drawer side still had a ways to go and it felt too tight.
So I took it back apart & pared the rear edge of the tail –
This way it only gets tight right as the joint is knocked all the way in. This joint below has some layout issues, but the joint is fine. All it will need at assembly is some glue and two wrought nails through the tail into the end of the drawer front.
I took it back apart and planed the rabbet in the drawer front that the drawer bottoms tuck behind.
Like this black & white warbler, I’ve been hopping back & forth between birding in the AM and cutting dovetails (how appropriate) in the afternoons. Starting the drawers for the lower case of the cupboard. Let’s look at them first, then the birds.
Above you see the two recessed drawers inserted (not finished, no bottoms, etc) – but cut & fitted. The bottom drawer is just the front at this point. First thing – some, but nowhere near most, New England 17th century drawers are dovetailed. Most are rabbeted and nailed. On this cupboard – the deep drawer uses through dovetails and the other 3 have half-blind dovetails. All but the carved drawer get mitered moldings applied to the drawer front – so could (and in the deep drawer will) cover through DTs…but these joiners only cut through dovetails on the deep drawer.
Why? I have no idea why. Years ago I wrote an article titled “Everyone who knows why is dead.” – and the flip side of that thought is that everyone who tells you why is speculating. I don’t mind people speculating as long as they admit they don’t know – but I try to stay out of it. In this situation, I’m just copying what’s on the period example. I have yet to put the bottoms in these drawers, 1/2″ thick oak panels running front-to-back and nailed up to the sides & rear. Toe-nailed into the rabbets in the drawer fronts.
For the three shallower drawers, all the stock is radially riven red oak. As close to perfect as I can find. In this case, I’d go ahead and call it perfect. Dead straight and clear. I split & planed these in early October. So dry as a proverbial popcorn fart right now. I had some 8″-10″ wide quartersawn straight oak for the deep drawer – it finishes as 7 1/4″ tall.
The dovetail angle I copied from the original cupboard. Seems pretty steep to me, I didn’t measure it. What do I know about dovetailing? All I know is that Roy Underhill told me that the dovetail holds very well in one direction – these will get nailed, so they’ll hold well in both directions. Below you can see the groove for the side-hung drawers to ride on runners set in the frame.
The rear corners for the three shallow drawers are just rabbeted and nailed. The deep drawer has through dovetails at the rear corners. Why? I have no idea.
Saw great birds this migration season. Most were hard to find – usually because they were flitting around 70′-80′ high, out of reach of my camera. Others, like this ovenbird, blend into their surroundings very well.
You’d think the scarlet tanager would stand out in the green leaves, but it takes some doing for me to get to him.
The black & white warblers are usually pretty easy to find. They’re pretty cooperative.
And at home the Baltimore orioles are gobbling up navel oranges like crazy. This female got caught in the dramatic late-afternoon light outside the shop window.
The original 17th century New England examples are usually (maybe always?) maple – and always painted black. Some suitable cherry just about fell in my lap – so I went with that – (the upper case ones are going to be black birch – so there.) Knowing I was going to paint them, I didn’t worry about making these substitutions.
I had several feet of moldings made and some paint mixed up, so I painted them while I was at it.
So while those bits dry, I can pin the main section of the carcass together and start making the two middle recessed drawers.
But half-days this week – the birds are starting to show up. I got lucky & caught this ovenbird in flight – now if he had only been in the light at the same time…
I spent another few hours working on the cupboard – it’s fun getting this thing going again. Above I am starting another test-assembly of the front section to the lower case. I’m setting the narrow shelf in place on top of the bottom drawer framing.
Then comes the pillars connecting to the top drawer.
Now that unit drops onto the tenons at the top & bottom side rails – I always keep saying this step (one of many) would be easier with a helper, but then I go ahead and do it myself. And it works out fine. This assembly was to test for and fit the soffit that snugs under the top drawer framing – to seal that overhang above the pillars.
Now a few things have to happen. I need to turn the feet for it and paint them and the pillars black. Once the pillars are painted and dry I can do the final assembly of this case – (the feet can go in after assembly) – here it is with the soffit in place – barely noticeable. It gets nailed down to the recessed upper rail after the actual assembly. This time it fits in a rabbet in the top drawer’s bottom rail.
Here’s a view from the previous cupboard, showing installation of that soffit. In that case, it’s beveled to fit in a groove in that forward drawer rail. This time the framing didn’t work out to include a groove, so it’s just snugged into a rabbet in that rail. It will be lightly toe-nailed up to that rabbet and then down to the recessed rail. Both soffit arrangements work just fine.
To round out the day, I started making some strips of molding for decorating the lower case. I’m using a plane made for me by Matt Bickford – https://msbickford.com/ it works great. I tend to plane blanks to the thickness I need, run a molding then rip them to width. Then joint the new edge and run another molding. Some prep the blanks to the desired width first. Both methods work.
Here’s where I quit for the day.
Still waiting for spring migration to bring the birds up here from the south. It’s not happening today, that’s for sure. But soon…here’s a white-throated sparrow (Zonotrichia albicollis) who posed nicely last week. They’re here year-round, but nice & bright now that spring is here. To impress, of course.
One more – a cedar waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum) from last week as well. Down in Plymouth.
Monday I begin teaching a JA chair class at Pete Galbert’s in New Hampshire, so most of my shop-time lately has been in preparation for that. But I spent some time here at the desk sorting more photos of my furniture archive. It’s not complete by any means, lots got away before getting photographed. When I filed the recent photos of the joined chest I counted 33 folders marked “chest” – but one of them has 17 chests in it. So that’s close to 50 chests – with I-don’t-know-how-many that got away. I then looked at more of my collection of period writings – court records, letters, probate inventories – I was looking for descriptors for chests. One of my favorites was an English inventory from 1602 “a joined chest next in bigness to the biggest…”
Some records from Yorkshire cite a “Panneld chest” (as opposed to a board chest) a “Plaine chest” (could be un-decorated, or a board chest) a “longe chest” – just that – longer than usual.
Typical references are to “smale chestes” (small chests), and “Great chest” – not magnificent, but large, and of course a “Joyned chest” followed by another “Playne chest.” One of the New England records I copied was about work someone did to disassemble a chest to move it into a house –
“[Salem, Mass; June 1673] Richard Rowland, aged about fifty-five years, and Mary, his wife, aged about forty-six years, deposed that Erasmus James did one day’s work at said [James] Smith’s house, which was to “take abroad” a great chest that would not go into his door and put it together again, etc. Sworn, 21:2:1673”
I interpret “take abroad” to mean “take apart.” And that got me browsing through lots of court records I copied – these have great details sometimes – I always lump these under a category “when things go wrong…” – this one mentions what might be a tool chest (a work-chest belonging to a joiner) but more likely a chest made of joiners’-work – a clumsy way of saying a joined chest.
[Salem, Nov 1673] Execution, for possession to foreclose mortgage, dated June 5, 1673, upon the house, shop and ground of Abraham Allen, in Marblehead, to be delivered to Mr William Browne, sr., of Salem, according to mortgage, also to satisfy judgement granted said Browne at Salem court, 25;4:1672, signed by Hilliard Veren for the court; and served by Henry Skerry, marshal of Salem, by attachment of the house, shop, land and a joiner’s work chest of Allin’s, which were delivered by turf and twig, also the chest given to Nathaniel Myhill, by order of said Browne.
Transporting large bulky (and heavy) finished pieces is a bit of a nuisance – imagine it in 1600s New England. This next case is lengthy & convoluted –
[Salem, Nov 1674] Writ of replevin, dated Nov 18, 1674, for a steer of Samuel Simons now detained by Robert Aimes, signed by Thomas Leaver, clerk, and served by Jeremiah Elsworth, constable of Rowley.
Samuel Simons’ bill of cost, £3-8
Robert Andors, aged about twenty-eight years, deposed that Edman Bredges hired him to carry a parcel of corn and a cupboard to Salem for him in the middle of September last and deponent asked him if the cupboard were made. Bridges said it was and that he had already paid Samuel Simonds for it in a good pied steer which was at John Commens’s. Further that the deponent brought the cupboard to Salem. Sworn, Nov 24, 1674, before Samuel Symonds.
Willam Smith, aged about forty years, deposed that Goody Bridges asked her husband how he paid for the ox and said she hoped he had not put away the steer he bought of John Lettilhaell, which was at John Cominses house and that said Simons was to pay for him in “joynery work.” Sworn, Nov 23, 1674
John Pabody, aged about thirty-two years, deposed that he was at Edmond Bredges’ shop when Bridges and Simons were making a bargain about the boards of the shop, and Simons said if he had the boards that said Bridges should not deprive him of the steer, etc. Sworn in court.
John How, aged about thirty-three years, deposed that he saw Robert Ames drive the steer, etc.
[Salem, Nov 1674] Zachaeus Curtious, jr., testified that he and Walter Farfeeld being at Mr Gedney’s sometime in October with Samuel Symonds, heard the said Symonds own that the bargain he had made with Edmond Bridges, jr., about some joinery work which he was to do for him, was to be paid in a steer of the work was done by Sept 1. Further that Symonds said the work had not done because his man had gone away and had stayed longer then he ordered him, etc. Sworn, Mar 26, 1674…
Seems that Samuel Symonds agreed to do some joinery work, a cupboard, in exchange for a steer. Lots of people involved – Robert Andors to move the cupboard from Rowley to Salem – Bridges paid for the cupboard with a steer that was at John Commens’ – and he, Bridges, had bought it, the steer, from John Lettilhall. Not only all that – but Symonds was late with the work (I can relate to that) – because his man was gone – I gather this man was working for him in some capacity. The court records had no more than this – so that little snippet is as much as we get.
The papers of the Winthrop family have great details sometimes as well. A letter from John Winthrop, governor of Massachusetts Bay Colony to his son in Connecticut:
John Winthrop to John Winthrop, Jr
28th of the 1 mo: 1636
“…you shall receive of mr Hodges the key of one of his Chests where the seeds are, the key of the other cant be found, so you must break it open, there is in one of them a rundlett of honey…”
Another from the Winthrop Papers, not about a chest but about workmen riving stock for pipe staves: (a pipe is a large barrel, splitting & riving staves for these was a common employment)
Hugh Peter and Emmanuel Downing to John Winthrop
Salem 13-11-40
“Wee are bold to intreat your furtherance in counsell and other helpe for the suppressing pipe staff rivers and clabords in our towne; because wee have 2 or 3 ships building. wee desire that within 2 or 3 miles neere any river they may not fell great timber fit for shipping; for they may as well cut it further of it being so portable, and ship-timber being so heavy. your letter to Mr Endecott by this bearer will helpe us very much…These men cut downe but halfe of the tree for their use, & the rest lyes rotting & spoyles our Comons, with many more inconveniencyes then wee nam…”