{"id":1347,"date":"2010-04-24T06:52:58","date_gmt":"2010-04-24T10:52:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.bob-easton.com\/blog\/?p=1347"},"modified":"2021-09-19T18:52:21","modified_gmt":"2021-09-19T22:52:21","slug":"pencil-box","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bob-easton.com\/blog\/pencil-box\/","title":{"rendered":"Pencil Box"},"content":{"rendered":"

Inspiration from Roy Underhill, Kari Hultman, and Dan Lauder. THANKS to all! (click any image for a larger version.)<\/p>\n

\"photo<\/a> \"photo<\/a> \"photo<\/a><\/p>\n

Roy Underhill, author<\/a>\"\", Colonial era woodworking master, and\u00a0proprietor\u00a0of The Woodwright’s Shop<\/a>, opened his 2009 season with the making of a palm sized grease pot<\/a> that used a sliding lid and dovetail latch to secure its contents. Some of us live in parts of the country “too sophisticated” to carry a back woods woodworking show on TV. (New York City’s last country music radio station shut down in April of 1983, giving way to light jazz or some other kind of funk.)<\/p>\n

So, along comes Kari Hultman, The Village Carpenter<\/a>, to tell us\u00a0about her replica<\/a> of Roy’s little grease pot. Like Kari, I had that project on my to-do list. She got there first with a very nicely made box and some great construction photos.<\/p>\n

It was Dan Lauder<\/a>, and an approaching birthday,\u00a0that moved the project to the top of the list with his discovery of an 1879 pencil box<\/a>. While a bit different than the grease pot, the pencil box shared a similar 3 part construction of interlocking parts that qualifies it, like the grease pot, as “clever.”<\/p>\n

The lid slides in a dovetailed track. Sliding it out reveals the top tray. That action also unlocks the top tray so that it can swing sideways revealing the bottom of the box. As an aside, the box that Dan discovered had a little pocket in top layer. I don’t know it’s purpose, but in my version, that pocket is now a resting place for a good luck charm, the happy little pig.<\/p>\n

\"photo<\/a>OK, let’s look into how it was made. The lumber was stuff on hand, some tulip poplar. More about that later.<\/p>\n

That roughly drawn sketch was my only “plan.” Like Kari, I used only hand tools. Unlike Dan, I don’t have a huge choice of planes<\/a>, so I routed the pencil grooves with a scratch stock. It was slow going, but worked out OK. It needed more than one scratch. Use your sharp eyes to find my first error. It’s in the very first photo.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\"photo<\/a>The sliding lid is about 1\/8 inch thick. A router plane provided the space for it, and another small scratch (no photo) made the dovetailed tracks.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\"photo<\/a>The bottom, and the piggy’s nest, were excavated with forstner bits. Back to the router plane for cleanup. The last photo in this sequence shows that error corrected.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

\"photo<\/a>Finishing took more time than building. That’s because I don’t have a clean room<\/a> for finishing (blame the tools) and I used a very slow drying paint. I wanted to use the same color as the gift recipient’s (not-yet-done) boat, a slow drying enamel. I call it “siren paint,” because as it dries it is constantly singing “Come to Me” to every dust bit in the building. To counteract the dust, I used a hand rubbed finish technique. After a few coats, that technique highlighted the fact that sharp edges need to be rounded to hold paint. So, correction and more coats. As an aside, the Norton tack cloth<\/a> is a very handy aid. No more waxy cheesecloth.<\/p>\n

Briefly, my hand rubbed finishing regime included: wet sanding with 600 grit, fine sanding with 0000 steel wool, rubbing with pumice<\/a>, then with rottenstone<\/a>, and lastly several layers of paste wax to bring to a high satin sheen. For service veterans, “spit shining” is the paste wax method that works best.<\/p>\n

Lessons Learned<\/h3>\n