For years I used my Stanley 71 router plane in blissful ignorance. I was happy that it was easy to adjust and maneuver. But in the last couple years my affection for the No. 71 has been shaken, first by the Veritas Router Plane, and now by the new Lie-Nielsen Large Router Plane. Both tools kick the old 71 in the teeth, particularly in the depth-stop department. But should you buy a new router plane? And if so which one?

First: Here’s the answer to the first question: If you’ve ever been stymied by the ability of your router plane to hit a mark over and over, then sell the sucker on eBay and come on over to the Ductile Side of things.

Both the Veritas and Lie-Nielsen are made of unbreakable ductile iron, which isn’t quite reason enough to buy them, but it is one of the few traits that both tools share.

You see, Veritas and Lie-Nielsen have gone down divergent paths when designing their router planes. So they are hard to compare directly. For more detail on the Veritas, check out my article from the Fine Tool Journal at WKFineTools.com.

The Veritas is a closed-throat router. The Lie-Nielsen is an open-throat one. What’s the difference? An open throat offers better visibility ahead of the cut. A closed throat offer more support when working on narrow edges, such as cleaning out a groove on a door’s stile.

Another significant difference is how you set the depth stop on the tool. Stanley’s is a cruel joke. An afterthought. A jerry-rig. The Veritas’s depth stop is like a drill press’s jam-nut system. It locks down tighter than any other system I’ve ever used, but making quick adjustments is not in the cards. You spin the jam nuts up and down the post quite a lot. But when you’re locked, you're locked.

The Lie-Nielsen depth stop is far faster. It’s a collar that surrounds the blade. You turn a thumbscrew to lock in the final depth adjustment and then you work in small steps to that setting. If you monkey the depth-adjust wheel you can make the depth stop slip, but the stop is more than robust for most woodworkers.

Another difference is in the blades offered. The Veritas offers three (a 1/2" straight, a 1/2" V-shape and a 1/4" straight). The Lie-Nielsen has a 3/8" straight blade. Lie-Nielsen plans to offer a full range of blades for its tool, but for now, the Veritas has the upper hand in this department.

The pointed blade is particularly helpful when cleaning out recesses with acute corners, such as a dovetail socket in casework. Vintage instruction manuals for router planes play up the fact that the pointed blade is better for producing a “show” surface. I think this is mostly bunk. The pointed blade is handy for getting into tight corners, sort of like the way pointy shoes are good for squashing insects in the corners of rooms.

Also worth noting: The two 1/2"-wide Veritas blades disassemble for easier honing. This is indeed easier than honing a one-piece blade, but the difference isn’t a deal-killer; it’s mostly a friendly touch and a nod to the woodworker.

Ergonomically, the Veritas looks nicer to drive with its rakish handles, but I found I like the classic straight-up knobs from the Stanley No. 71 that Lie-Nielsen has adopted. But this is a personal thing. I know some people prefer the canted handles. I think it depends on how you hold the tool. The straight knobs are good for an overhand grip (palms resting on top of the knobs); the rakish handles feel better when you grip them with your pinky fingers at the base of the tool (palms on the sides of the knobs). Both feel fine and work fine.

As to fit and finish, both tools are over the top. The castings and knurlings are first rate. I think things are a draw on this issue.

So which tool should you buy? If you do a lot of edge work, cleaning up stopped grooves and the like, I’d go with the Veritas. If your work requires you to hit a varying depths time and time again, I’d go with the Lie-Nielsen.

But most of you already know which one you’re going to buy. And I’m glad I don’t have to make the choice. I have both.

The Veritas (with three blades and a fence) is $139. The Lie-Nielsen (with one blade and a fence) is $125.

— Christopher Schwarz

Every once in a while I get reminded of why I do the things I do. Specifically, why I choose to not finish the insides of my drawer boxes. What reminds me of this technique that I feel so passionate about? Don’t laugh – it’s my handkerchief.

I change my hankie daily and occasionally, maybe because the temperature is just right or the moon has a particular gravitational pull, I get the biggest whiff of pine from that 12"-square of cloth. The pine aroma soaks into the material as it's stored in the unfinished drawer.  It’s pure unadulterated eastern white pine or Pinus strobus.

But I have to admit that’s not the reason I choose to not finish my drawers; it’s just a pleasant by-product of the action. The real reason I don’t add stain and finish to my drawer boxes is three-fold.

First, I watch the PBS series “Antiques Road Show.” I like the Keno brothers and had the opportunity to meet Leigh Keno at the Philadelphia Antiques Show. There’s no kindred relationship. He wouldn’t know me if I stumbled into his highboy. But, I like their views on furniture and how it should look in order to be classified as an authentic antique.

One of the areas that they emphasize is natural patination on the case back and especially on the drawer boxes and drawer bottoms. These areas are great clues to the authenticity of a period piece. It can sometimes mean a huge difference in value – possibly tens of thousands of dollars. I decided at that time I would not finish my drawers. I don’t want to deprive my customers of that money sometime in the future. Yeah, right!

While the Keno message does enter into my thought process, there is another reason. In the early stages of my quest into building furniture I did finish the drawer boxes. I also felt I was doing a service by making the drawers out of a solid 3/4"-thick material (I actually used that as a sales pitch.) However, that never came back to haunt me as did the finished drawers.

We had a great show in Boston. We sold a boatload of furniture. In that mega-batch was a custom-built piece, a Shaker-style cupboard. Delivered to the customer’s home and set in place, the piece seemed perfect. I hadn’t noticed at the time (October) that my customer didn’t have air conditioning. But, in a short six months, when the windows were open, she discovered that whatever was in the lower two drawers was to stay there until winter had reared its ugly head. Oops! My drawer fit was a bit on the tight side.

By the time I was back in the area to fix the drawers, not only were they stuck in place, the lacquer that I used as the finish had melded the drawer sides to the case interior like a two-part epoxy. I had to hammer the drawers to free them from the grip of the case sides, take them outside the house, then scrape and sand them to remove the lacquer. “Ah Ha” moment two had just said hello.

Finally (I did say there were three reasons), I took two identical drawers and began the finishing process, keeping time with a stopwatch. Pretty sad, huh? The additional time spent to finish the interior of a drawer was unbelievable. I saved more than a half hour on one drawer alone. Well, I was in business to make money. Time was money. No more finishing of the drawer boxes for me.

I had more than enough information to convince me to leave the drawers plain. Not only that, I had a response when potential customers asked why (and they always did). Best of all, I have a sweet smell in my handkerchief. Now, even the occasional head cold isn’t so bad.

– Glen D. Huey