The great thing about writing for the blog (as opposed to for the magazine) is that there isn't any time lag for reader reaction. For the magazine, we're trying to wrap up our October issue before leaving for fabulous Las Vegas for the AWFS show. I won't know for another month and a half what anybody thinks of my work in that issue. On the other hand, I knew right away how people felt about last week's blog entry.With all the favorable comments and e-mails requesting more, I thought I should continue.Below is an upper drawer on a Gustav Stickley #814 sideboard. I took some heat for not including drawer details in my two books of Craftsman furniture drawings. My reasoning was two-fold — the small scale necessary for the book pages would make the drawings cluttered, and most people will build drawers the way they want to anyway. Here is my take on the real thing.In the early 1900s when this piece was made, people didn't have the same attitude that we have about dovetails. We tend to hold dovetails in awe, and for all the attention they get, you might think that this joint is the most important part of the entire piece. It's there to hold the drawer front on, and it doesn't have to be pretty to do that. Normal people will take a quick glance, notice that dovetails are there and get on with their lives. Woodworkers, on the other hand will get down on their hands and knees, pull out a magnifying glass and start an endless session of speculation and debate.What I think is interesting is that this is a hand-cut dovetail in a piece of factory-made furniture. Dovetail machines were invented in the late 1800s and were likely commonplace by the 1920s. Stickley's factory was well-equipped for the time, but we don't have much information about specific machines or operations. I think this is an example of a hand-tool solution in a production environment. The typical Gus Stickley drawer is inset, with small, even gaps and smooth operation — even after 100 years.The only pictures that exist of the inside of Stickley's Craftsman Workshops show cabinetmakers fitting doors and drawers to nearly completed pieces. It's easy to adopt a romantic point of view and think these guys made each piece one at a time. But that just doesn't fit with a factory setting and the volume of work produced. My best guess is that carcases and drawers were assembled up the line, and at a final workstation were fit together. The way the drawers were made and hung supports this scenario.The little ear sticking out of the end of the drawer front gives a lot of leeway for fitting the front to the opening. A less-skilled worker could make drawers in batches, and the thin amount of end grain could be quickly trimmed without the need to shave the entire side of the drawer box. A few swipes with a block plane by a seasoned hand and the drawer is fit end to end. Likewise, the top and bottom can be shaved quickly to fit the opening. If the front is made a bit wider than the sides of the drawers, this is fast and easy.Here is a look from below. The center guide screwed to the drawer bottom makes the adjustments to the drawer front possible without affecting how the drawer box slides or fits. This guide fits between two similar pieces on the inside of the case. This controls how the drawer moves in and out, not the fit of the drawer box to the case.We will be posting next week from the show, here on the blog, in our e-mail newsletter (to which you can sign on the Popular Woodworking home page) and on this special page devoted to our trip to the AWFS. When we're back, we will be on the lookout for more details to share.— Bob Lang