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 Friday, March 16, 2007
A Sticky Situation
I mentioned in a previous entry ("The End of L-Brackets") that I’m working autonomously on an upcoming I Can Do That project, a canted wall box. And it was going so well…I selected some straight, flat ½" poplar from our local home center. Two 6" x 4'-long pieces – just enough for the project, so as not to waste any money.
After a little head scratching and a few trial runs, I figured out how to draw the three arcs I needed for the top profile (my high school geometry teacher would be so proud…and so shocked). I cut the back to length, marked out the shapes, then carefully cut just outside the lines – the less cleanup I have to do with a rasp and sandpaper, the better. (Sadly, there’s no spindle sander in the I Can Do That toolbox.)
Then, I moved on to my second piece of stock for the canted sides. I cut them to length with a miter saw, then marked out the shape I wanted on one piece (again, by trial and error). I very carefully cut it out, then used the first piece as the pattern for the second side, and cut it out, too.
 I cut my shelves and bottom from the offcut.
Now what I should have done at this point is carefully line up the straightedges on the back and bottom of the two sides, and snug them up in a vise for final shaping. After all, there’s a very nice twin screw on the end of my bench; it certainly has enough holding power to keep the pieces properly aligned as I rasp, file and sand the edges to the finished shape. (I’m supposed to use the Workmate for the ICDT projects, but at the moment it’s buried behind a pile of boxes…heavy boxes. But for the record, the Workmate, too, has plenty of holding power to keep the pieces aligned.)
But, one of the tricks we've taught in past ICDT projects is to use carpet tape to keep like pieces aligned for final shaping. It’s a great way to ensure nothing slips before or as you’re clamping up the work – but it’s not strictly necessary. Nonetheless, I decided to tape the pieces.
I sauntered over to what we call the “glue cabinet.” That’s where we keep all our adhesive and adhesive-related products – glue, epoxy, painter’s tape, Goo Gone, carpet tape and Speed Tape. You probably know where this is going, don’t you?
So I grabbed what I thought was carpet tape, snipped off three lengths, and applied them to the inside surface of one of my sides. I peeled off the paper, and oh-so-carefully aligned the second side before pressing them together. Perfect! I nonchalantly chucked ‘em in the twin screw, and went to town with the rasp and sandpaper.
Fabulous – two sides that match up perfectly. Am I good or what?! And I didn’t need a bit of help!
Then, I went to take the sides apart so I could do my final assembly. They wouldn’t budge. Geez. How hard can it be to get two taped pieces of wood apart?! I tried everything I could think of – cursing, a wedge, a deadblow mallet and more cursing. All to no avail. Finally, I had to suck it up and admit defeat. Chris found this highly amusing, but kindly agreed to lend a hand (so much for autonomy).
First, he tried to pull the pieces apart with his hands. Nope (and thank goodness – I’d have never lived it down had he succeeded). Then a lever. No dice. Then a deadblow mallet. Not happening.
Then he asked to see the tape.
 Now, I was heretofore unfamiliar with the wonder that is Speed Tape. It looks a heck of a lot like carpet tape…a 1” roll with adhesive on both sides, protected on one side by white waxy paper that gets peeled off to reveal the second strip of adhesive. It’s not carpet tape. It’s a really sticky, high adhesion peel-and-stick adhesive strip used to permanently attach veneers and laminates to substrates. Let me tell you, the stuff works.
Anyway, to make a long story end, we tried to resaw the pieces on the band saw. Call it blade drift, user error, or whatever, that failed. So, I’m headed back to the home center for another piece of poplar. And the next time I get all snarky about something (which rarely happens, of course), I know what story is coming..."Say, do you guys remember that "tape" incident?"
— Megan Fitzpatrick
Friday, March 16, 2007 12:45:41 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00) 
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Barristers – Simplify and Correct
 The Barrister Bookcase article (April 2007, #161) is a homerun with more than a few readers. There’s going to be more bookcases than barristers when all is said and done. Well, maybe not!
Why do I think that? The phone calls. One of the best things about joining the staff at Popular Woodworking magazine is the chance to talk woodworking all day. Getting calls from you adds to that enjoyment. And, I’ve received more than a few calls concerning the bookcases.
Unfortunately, that’s in part because I omitted some information that makes this project a bit easier. My computer is like the projector in the cutting room of a movie studio – some of the important pieces of the show get left out by mistake.
I’m referring to the location of the holes for the brass pins, and to the width measurement for the backboard on the taller units – your two most requested pieces of information. The former relieves the stress of mathematics when figuring those locations, while the latter ends confusion and brings a clear picture into the mind’s eye.
So here you are: The width of the backboard is 16-7/8” not 5/16” (Didn’t miss that by much did I?) and the link below pulls up a drawing provided by Senior Editor Robert W. Lang that demystifies the pin placement.
BarristerHoles.pdf (59.04 KB)
Hope this helps. Build Something Great!
– Glen D. Huey
Friday, March 16, 2007 9:07:45 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Evolution of a Woodworker Part 1
(If you missed Part 2 of the trilogy, click here)
I am the second (and therefore the most well-adjusted) of three boys in my family. I was the one who shadowed my father’s every move. If he liked it, I liked it too. As a result I have worked on model “A” engines, rebuilt Corvettes and restored a 1947 MG. Dad was into cars.
I’m fortunate that Dad decided to build furniture. Of course, that meant I wanted to build furniture as well. As Dad acquired woodworking tools, I found one that fit me perfectly. At the ripe old age of 13, I needed projects that were cheap, didn’t take forever to complete, and had a low barrier of entry as far as the initial learning curve. The lathe was perfect for me.
I got started turning bowls and grew a little better with each endeavor. I created bowl after bowl after bowl from a single block of hardwood. After a while, I figured that because I mastered this aspect of woodworking (hey I’d been at it for better than three months!) I might as well venture forth into something new – building furniture.
When I told Dad, he suggested (while holding back a Cheshire cat-sized grin) that I go through some woodworking books to find my first project. At the time, the only books he had were those written by Franklin H. Gottshall, including “Reproducing Antique Furniture” (Crown) and “Masterpiece Furniture Making” (Stackpole). These are not beginner projects. Undaunted, I leafed through the pages until I found my first foray into furniture building – the Sheraton Field Bed.
It had turning, at which I felt more-than-accomplished. So I thought it was a project I could build. Can you say lofty expectations? But Dad caved to my begging, and we were off to the lumberyard come Saturday.
In the following days, weeks or months (I’m not sure which it actually turned out to be), I built that bed with my Dad’s help. Or, he built that bed while I watched – depending on whose story you want to believe. I have that bed to this day, and look fondly on it every time I relate this story.
Years passed. I finished high school, graduated from college and decided to start my own business. I had to; no one would hire me. So, I pulled Dad from semi-retirement and started a business building houses (that’s what Dad had semi-retired from). It didn’t fly. So, I worked for other builders for a few years, then decided to give it another try. I pulled dad from semi-retirement (again). I realized, after a year of building for family and friends, that I was unhappy – and the feeling grew stronger every minute. In fact, I was so aggravated that I could bite a nail in half. I knew it was time to move on.
But what I liked about the homebuilding trade was “rough framing.” During this phase of construction, you worked hard all day, then walked to the street, looked back, and saw what you’d accomplished. And every few days the project changed and was new again.
And where else did I find this immediate feedback, and a new project every couple days? Woodworking, that’s where. I knew where I had to go, and started in that direction. As my career in homebuilding came to an end, I began to build stairs, paneled fireplace walls and other built-in pieces for new construction.
 That, in turn, led to a special project, a full bar with a card-sharks theme, that afforded me the chance to return to building furniture full-time. The funds earned would carry me until I had been juried into a show and sold a couple of pieces. And it did – along with a second healthy dose of money.
I sent notices out to my accounts, closed the doors again and started another business. Building furniture was now my profession much to the dismay of others. You see I was able to drag Dad out of retirement yet again, to travel the country exhibiting at shows and selling our furniture.
– Glen D. Huey
Read other entries by Glen D. Huey
Wednesday, March 14, 2007 1:51:50 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Monday, March 12, 2007
The End of L-Brackets
 After a few months as part of the Popular Woodworking staff, I started bugging the guys to teach me a little something about woodworking, beyond the few skills I picked up from wandering through the shop and asking questions. By that time, I’d learned just enough to be wholly embarrassed by the bookshelves I built 15 years ago out of #2 pine and L-brackets. My seven versions of “The Complete Shakespeare” deserve a better home. They deserve sliding dovetails – or at least a rabbet or two, for goodness sakes! So Bob Lang was kind enough to teach me and several other non-woodworker staff members how to build the egg crate shelves he made for one of our first “ I Can Do That” projects ( August 2006). Then Chris Schwarz helped me build my first two ICDT projects: whale tail shelves ( December 2006) and an antique tool/toy chest ( February 2007). Glen Huey taught me a couple cool tricks while helping me make some simple Shaker shelves (April 2007), and now I’m working autonomously on a canted wall box for an upcoming ICDT story. Now, I’m eager to move beyond the basics of the ICDT projects (and my far-below-basic L-bracket bookshelves) and tackle something a little more challenging. Such as the hand-cut dovetails I gave up on after but one try, almost a year ago. (Eventually, I hope to master sliding dovetails, and make an impressive set of bookcases using these tricky joints.) I was intrigued by Chris’ February 2007 Out of the Woodwork, “ A Dovetail a Day.” Therein, he extols the benefits of cutting one set of dovetails every day for one month. It sounds like a great idea, but as with any journey, that first step is the hardest. After all, there’s always another story to edit. Another reader with questions (which, by the way, we’re always happy to answer). Another meeting to attend. Another submission to consider. Another… But last Monday, our power went out. No computers. No heating system. No phones. No table saws. Nothing to do but file papers or dig out from under the pile of paper that covers my desk. Or cut dovetails. Needless to say, I went with “cut dovetails.” Now herein lies the danger of having three expert teachers. Glen is a pins-first guy; Chris and Bob are tails-first guys. I’m whatever the guy standing next to me tells me to be. Right now, that’s Glen’s pins-first method, on Chris’ dovetail-a-day plan. (Bob likes to walk through the shop and ask, “Are you sure you’re holding that chisel correctly?” Well, no. I’m not sure. But I’m sure someone will be glad to tell me.) Anyway, after a week of marking, sawing and chopping, my dovetails have noticeably improved. I truly think I could cut a case full of dovetails far more quickly than I could set up a jig to do it for me (and anyway, I’m rather afraid of the router). Last Monday, it took me around two hours to cut one set. By Friday, I could do the same number of tails and pins in a half-hour, and they looked far better. Not perfect, but better. Last week, I used pine. This week, I’ll tackle poplar. And next week, cherry. Now I don’t know if I’ll be ready for curly maple at the end of my sentence, but I will certainly have learned my lesson, and learned it well. I’ll never use L-brackets again. — Megan Fitzpatrick
Read other entries by Megan Fitzpatrick
Monday, March 12, 2007 1:30:15 PM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Woodworking Tourist: Glen-Drake Toolworks
 On my recent trip to Northern California I not only saw some things I hadn't seen before, I also had the opportunity to meet some fascinating people. One of these was Kevin Drake, owner of Glen-Drake Toolworks. Kevin was an amiable host, leading me to the best local spots for breakfast and coffee. Some of the favorite tools in the Popular Woodworking shop are made by Glen-Drake, notably the "Tite-Mark" marking gauge, and hammers. Kevin left previous careers as a musician and programmer to attend the College of the Redwoods in 1999. Then he began reinventing tools, and coming up with ingenious solutions to problems most of us take for granted. I've never been able to find a mallet I really liked (or one that really worked) until I picked up one of the Glen-Drakes. That's Kevin in the photo, and what looks like a hunk of firewood in his hand is, well a hunk of firewood. Unless, like Kevin, you can see that this piece of tan oak, which is native to the area, has the potential to be a great tool handle. It grows short and gnarly, and in an area known for giant redwoods it's easy to see why this species would be ignored commercially. A member of the beech family, tan oak is something of a cross between Chestnut and Oak and this combination of qualities makes it an ideal hammer handle material.  In addition to having an inventive mind, Kevin is also an adept turner; he personally makes each wooden handle for his tools. Before my visit, I assumed that Glen-Drake was a bigger operation, and that there would be an automated machine with handle blanks being dropped from a hopper at one end of a machine and completed handles being spit out the other. It only takes about a few minutes for Kevin to turn a handle, and while trying to take some photos I kept having to say "slow down." He works almost exclusively with a skew chisel, and one of his "back burner" projects is the development of his own line of turning tools. After splitting the log sections to rough size, Kevin turns them on the lathe. Because the wood is still fairly wet, the handles are turned bigger than they need to be, and then dried in -house.  Parts are stored on wire racks and in old egg cartons as they wait their turn in the kiln. The kiln itself is a simple box lined with rigid insulation and powered by a single light bulb. This keeps the temperature inside the box at 130°F. The open wire shelves allow air to circulate within the box, and the location of the light bulb at the bottom promotes circulation as warm air rises to the top of the box. After leaving the kiln, parts are returned to the lathe. Turning is completed in several stages and some are further refined with a CNC router before being assembled with the brass heads. This personal attention makes for a tool that feels like a part of your hand and is a joy to use.  One of the things I enjoyed most about visiting with Kevin was the remarkable way that his mind works. Most of us accept the limitations of a tool or process, and learn to work around the shortcomings. Kevin questions those things and as a result has come up with remarkable new methods and tools. In the picture at right are his File/Burnisher, the Tite-Mark marking gauge, a Tite-Hammer and a Chisel Hammer. These are tools we use in our shop and highly recommend. There's a worn spot on the floor at Glen-Drake Toolworks where Kevin stands as he develops new tools and methods for dovetailing. We're looking forward to seeing the results. – Robert W. Lang
Monday, March 12, 2007 11:58:12 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Grex 23-gauge Headless Pinner Shoots 1-3/4" Brads
Twenty-three gauge headless pinners have come a long way in recent years, and we were glad to test the new Grex model P645L in the shop. The new edition is an upgrade from the P630 model in a number of ways.
First, there’s the additional range of fastener lengths. Now you can use fasteners in 12 different lengths from 1⁄2" to 1-3⁄4" in size. This is a 3⁄8" increase in the total fastener length from the earlier tool’s top end. Is this something big? If you’re attaching face frames, it might just be great news because of the additional holding power. This was evident in plywood as well.
Next, while Grex has continued using the adjust-free magazine (no need to adjust for each change in fastener size), the double trigger safety and rubber hand grip, there is a new feature in the P645L that I found especially interesting – the lock-out mechanism (shown at right). If you have ever attached mouldings to your projects only to find that the pinner was emptied sometime during the task, you will appreciate this feature, too.
Dry firing will not happen after the number of remaining fasteners drops below six or seven pins. Of course, this feature can be over-ridden if you are about to complete the task.
How does the pinner operate? I shot the 1-3⁄4" pins through 4/4 pine and 6/4 red oak without any problems. The pins did move slightly with the grain of the wood, however nothing more than you would expect. The P645L is a bit weightier than the previous model by almost a half-pound but it is still light enough to use for an eight-hour work day.
Unlike many of those in the construction trades, I am not a fan of the belt hook. I cannot see dragging the air hose around the woodworking shop while attaching mouldings. Fear not, I am sure that the feature can be removed if need be.
The street price for the Grex P645L, as of this posting, is $289. – Glen D. Huey
Read other Tool Tests
Monday, March 12, 2007 11:50:43 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Project Preview: Southern Sugar Chest
Not so long ago, obtaining sugar wasn’t easy. It’s difficult to believe that the commodity we have in almost everything today was scarce and highly valued in the early part of the 19th century.
During those days well-to-do patrons required somewhere to store this sweet under lock and key. Why did sugar have to be locked away? It was so valuable that hired help could be tempted to pinch a bit here and there.
So local cabinetmakers rose to the occasion and the result was a specialized piece of furniture – the sugar chest. This type of chest was built throughout the South – most notably in central Kentucky and middle Tennessee.
An increased availability of sugar, along with a decline in price, reduced the need to safeguard the commodity. The demise of the distinctive design was imminent. By the late 1840s these chests were no longer regularly built.
Although the sugar chest’s prominence was short-lived, the lessons encountered in constructing this form will go a long way toward increasing your skills – and besides, it’s a great little chest for storing blankets and whatnot.
Complete plans and construction information will be featured in the June 2007 issue of Popular Woodworking, which will ship to subscribers in early April. That should give you enough time to practice a few dovetails to get ready for it.
— Glen D. Huey
Monday, March 12, 2007 8:39:23 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Friday, March 09, 2007
Evolution of a Woodworker Part 2
This is the second part of Evolution of a Woodworker. (Don’t bother to look for the first of the series. Like every great trilogy should, I’m starting in the middle.)
Once I decided to turn my obsession of building furniture into my profession, I needed to select the style for which I felt the most passion, and with which I was the most comfortable building. That was an easy call at the time. If you directed me into the shop to build any piece I wanted, it would be Shaker. The Shaker lines, philosophy and simplicity of design made this the place I – as well as many woodworkers – started.
 I began with smaller projects that stood the test of time, both in the antique world and the reproduction-furniture world. One of my earliest pieces is a hanging shelf that is the “I Can Do That” project for the upcoming June 2007 issue of Popular Woodworking. As my confidence and skills improved, more complicated Shaker pieces came into my range. I built a number of cupboards that continued to gain in size and complexity, but never really got interested in the Shaker chests of drawers. I was pushing myself to grow as a woodworker – something that we all need to do. If you’re not moving forward, you’re losing ground.
I visited an antique show at the Hancock Shaker Village and found the “holy grail” of Shaker craftsmanship. Walking the second floor of the round stone barn, I was drawn to a Shaker Sewing Desk and was determined to add that piece to my portfolio. When I built my first sewing desk – in my opinion the most interesting piece of all Shaker craftsmanship – I knew I was ready to move to a new furniture style.
That style was Queen Anne. At the beginning, I was scared of cabriole legs. I thought it better to purchase legs than to make them in the shop. Finally I stepped up to the plate – or band saw, as it were – and cut the curvy profile from a chunk of tiger maple.
Boy was I steamed. I had spent a few years in the shop anxiously studying the process, aggravated over my conceptual inability to create this mainstay of Queen Anne design only to find out how simple the task was. All you need to do is follow the lines while cutting at the band saw. The rest – shaping and fine-tuning – was defined with the cut.
 No stopping me now. I built Queen Anne furniture that also ran through the “bigger and bolder with each piece” process until I reached a bonnet-top high chest of drawers. Stop! I started studying the piece from the base to the top – just the way you want someone’s eyes to travel as they study your work to judge its worthiness.
No problem with the legs. Been there, done that. Of course there are plenty of drawers and hand-cut dovetails to go with them. I could handle that (although there was a significant turning point in my dovetailing that I’ll save for a future entry). But, cast way at the top was a broken-arch pediment, and lurking on that pediment was a gooseneck moulding – a handy bit of carving work in the 18th century; I wondered if I was up to the task.
By now you know that I’m not the “hand-tool guy” – so I turned to the router to aid in making those mouldings. I had a set of bits made to match the desired profile and completed the gooseneck with a little carving. Add in a fan or two that also caused me to face the monster head on, and I was off to the races. There wasn’t a Queen Anne piece that I didn’t feel I could conquer. Time to slide into the next period.
That period, for me, was Federal. I was – and still am – captivated by the mixing and matching of hardwoods that this period demands, and the bits of veneer that draw you into the work. I like the flamboyant nature of this design. This time, I started at what I consider the apex – the designs of John and Thomas Seymour.
In my first book, “Fine Furniture for a Lifetime” (Popular Woodworking Books), I included the Seymour sideboard or “Mixingboard” (a piece on which folks would mix alcoholic beverages). When the sideboard was completed, it took my breath away. Not to sound conceited, but I was in awe when I finished the piece – so much so that I have this piece in my house today, and always will. That’s something that doesn’t happen often because most woodworkers want to improve their work, and thus find faults with everything they’ve built. If asked to build a piece a second time, most would make at least a few changes. This is one of the very few pieces I’ve made on which I wouldn’t change a thing.
While this was my initial foray into Federal design, it wasn’t the most fun piece I’ve built. That honor goes to the Baltimore Card Table in Popular Woodworking (issue #148). Figuring the blocking of the apron and how to add the stringing to that apron was great fun. This piece is also in my house – this time at my wife’s insistence.
This was my path through different furniture periods and designs. I still enjoy going back to the early styles that first captured my attention, but if you were to ask me which piece I’d build in the shop today, the answer would be quite different than it was some 15 years ago.
What’s next? The first part of the “Evolution of a Woodworker” trilogy. Bet you can’t wait! — Glen D. Huey
Friday, March 09, 2007 9:44:31 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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A Dovetail a Day
From the February 2007 issue of Popular Woodworking magazine.I was on our local swim team as a child, and I was an embarrassment to my pool, my parents and mammals in general. Perhaps the coach kept me around to make the youngest swimmers (Team Minnow) feel better about their dog-paddling. Or perhaps my artless splashing lulled competing teams into complacency before a swim meet. One summer day my mother dropped me off at the pool, and as she drove off I discovered that none of my friends was there. I had the entire day alone before me. I got in the pool and messed around a bit. As boredom set in I swam a couple laps of breaststroke. After a few laps I wondered if I could stretch my hands forward more. I then wondered if I could tuck my legs in tighter after a kick. Three hours later my mom called me from the pool side to go home. The next day was a swim meet, and I was in the 50-yard breaststroke against kids who beat me every summer. The starting gun fired, and 50 yards later I looked around. I was alone. I had won by an enormous margin. It was my first and last victory in the pool. You know where this story is going. Now I’ve always been a fair dovetailer. I cut my first set by hand 13 years ago and made decent joints. But I was slow. One day the memory of that swim meet returned, and I decided to try the same approach with my dovetailing. I vowed to cut a dovetail every day for a month. That night I prepped a few boards of cherry and poplar. I laid out my tools on the bench and cut my first set – three tails into three pins. It took more than an hour. I then cut the joint free of the two boards, marked the date on the corner and put the joint on the windowsill. I left all my tools out on the bench; they were set and ready for day two. The next day, before I cut the second set, I picked up the joint from the night before. Under scrutiny, it wasn’t as nice as I’d remembered. My saw had crossed the baseline here. I had split one pin slightly there. I cut my next set and tried to avoid crossing the joint’s baseline. I tried to ensure the pins on the ends were cut straight. And I made the half pins on the ends a bit wider. I cut that joint free, dated it and sat it on the sill. After a few more nights I realized that I was just repeating my blunders. Split pins were plaguing me. So I sawed even closer to my knife lines on the end pins. The next day, no splits. After two weeks, my dovetails looked tighter. Then I changed their spacing. Then I started to pick up speed and arrange my tools on my benchtop so I wasn’t fumbling for the chisel. After 30 days, I was 10 times the dovetailer I was when I began. The operation felt natural. When the 30 days was up, however, I was worried about stopping my experiment. Would I regress? That had happened when I was on the swim team. I had stopped swimming my practice laps and never won another race. But this story has a happy ending. Once I conquered the dovetail, I used the joint more often in my work. I also began sawing and chiseling more in general, which then reinforced my dovetailing. So many times we learn woodworking on the fly as we build something. We get our skills just good enough to accomplish that project and then we move on. It’s rare to get out a board and just saw it. Or plane it. Or mortise it with our router. This method might seem like wasting time but it has resulted in some of my most enjoyable shop time. And now I’m thinking that “Inlay a Day” has a nice ring to it. — Christopher Schwarz
Friday, March 09, 2007 7:23:10 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Tool Review: The Little Victor Plane
Lee Valley Tool's latest plane is turning a lot of heads this week. Most people are amazed at its small size (3-3/16" long), its premium features (an investment cast steel body) and its attractive price ($29.50 until May 15, 2007). Add to that list the fact that it's made in Canada and you can just imagine that a small fleet of these guys are crossing the St. Lawrence River as I type this.
This week I took a look at the plane, a close reproduction of a plane first made by Leonard Bailey in the 19th century as part of his line of Victor Planes. And though this new plane is a copy, it also is a first in many ways for Lee Valley Tools. It is the first of a new line of tools that will be reproductions and will not carry the company's Veritas imprint. Robin Lee of Lee Valley Tools says the new line of tools has yet to be named.
The plane is also the first tool offered for sale (perhaps by anyone) that has a sole that's lapped flat with a rotary lapping machine. This remarkable machine gets stuff really flat (±0.0002" or better), and Lee Valley Tools/Veritas has been lapping its plane irons with great success this year.
With this plane, called the "Little Victor," both the sole and iron are lapped flat. This feature is not marketing hype; it is one of the most serious advancements in recent years in making hand tools easier to use. What does this mean to you? You'll be able to set this plane up and use it in less than 10 minutes after you take it out of the box.
Our Little Victor arrived in the morning. At about 3:30 p.m. I took it to the shop and started lapping the unbeveled face flat of the iron. I took one stroke on a #1,000-grit waterstone and took a look to see how much work was ahead of me.
I was done. I was so astonished that I took the iron around to show to the other editors (there was some eye-rolling I assure you).
So I put it on the #4,000-grit stone and took four strokes. I took a look at my progress. Again. I was already done. The back was up to an acceptable polish for work. But hey, since the process had only taken three minutes so far I went all the way to #8,000 grit. That took eight strokes. I flipped the iron over and put a secondary bevel on the edge (the high-carbon steel iron comes ground at 30°; I put a 5° secondary bevel on it).
Minutes later I dropped the iron into the plane's body and went to work, spending the rest of the day using the tool for a variety of chores – flushing pegs, trimming joints flush, chamfering edges.
The way you set the iron is ingenious and simple. The iron is wedged in the body at four points: a machined area up by the mouth, two steel ribs on the sidewalls of the tool and a rotary knob under the iron. There's no depth adjustment for the iron (what do you want for $30?), but the tool is simple to set if you know how.
Lay the tool on a flat surface and drop the iron in the tool. Use two fingers to press the iron down against the mouth. This will keep the iron square in the mouth. The depth of cut is determined by how much pressure you use at the mouth. More pressure equals a heavier cut. Then use two more fingers to tighten up the rotary knob. Check your work on a scrap.
The plane works well one-handed or two-handed. My only complaint about the tool is that the back of the iron bites into your palm in some applications. Al Frampton (who also has one of these planes) came up with a novel solution that I'll have to try. Why not ship the plane with a shorter iron? I suspect one reason the length is key is that the iron wouldn't fit into the common commercial honing guides if it were much shorter. Bottom line: The comfort of the tool isn't as big a deal with a tool that will see short bursts of use – if a bench plane had this issue I'd be concerned. 
Oh and Managing Editor Megan Fitzpatrick had one more request when she picked up the tool: She wants one, but in blue.
— Christopher Schwarz
Wednesday, March 07, 2007 9:43:34 AM (Eastern Standard Time, UTC-05:00)
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