It?s safety week at Popular Woodworking. Reading their blog this week took me back to my start in woodworking.

When my wife and I bought our house, we decided that we wanted a tile-top kitchen table. I opted to try making the table after we failed to find what we had in mind. I enjoyed that experience so much that I thought I?d get more involved in woodworking.

I started slowly. No multi-thousand-dollar trips to the woodworking stores, I got some handheld tools and went about reading everything I could find. Before long it became clear that a table saw would be a useful tool. I shopped around for a used contractor?s saw and found a Delta at a reasonable price (though I had to drive to Pittsburgh to get it). ?Now,? I thought, ?I?m a real woodworker.?

I got the saw setup in short order. While I had read about table saw use, I don?t believe that I had ever before used one. I set the rip fence, fired it up and began pushing a piece of oak through. After a couple of seconds the oak was on the other side of the room, striking the water heater with a very loud noise. Unhurt but a little shaken, I shut off the saw and went upstairs. My first (and only experience with kickback).

I don?t remember what I thought about -- if I considered selling the saw and taking up golf -- but after a while I ventured back down to the shop. The water heater sported a nice new dent, a convenient reminder that I could have been sporting a nice new dent. Luckily something made me decide to give it another try, to climb back on the horse.

Woodworking has been an important part of my life since. An inauspicious start notwithstanding. It?s good to think about such things once in a while, to remind ourselves that our hobby (or profession) involves inherent risks. Fortunately, the risks are balanced by great rewards.

I?m still in a mode with very little time for woodworking. That?s not a complaint since the project keeping me out of the shop is a great opportunity and incredible fun. But there is some news from the shop.

About a year ago I made a new arts & crafts kitchen table with a tile inlay top. I wrote about the process for Woodwork magazine. The article is in the June issue, available now.

Soon I?ll be able to post about the current project. I hope you?ll agree that it?s worth the wait.

It?s no secret that I?m a fan of the work of Greene & Greene. A big fan. Anyone with cursory knowledge of the brothers has heard of the Ultimate Bungalows. These homes, designed by Charles and Henry at the height of their popularity and creative energy, are grand residences built with uncompromising attention to detail. Everyone agrees the the Gamble, Blacker, Pratt and Thorsen houses are in this category. Many include the Freeman Ford house as well. Were I the ultimate authority, the Robinson house would also join the list.

While the Gamble house remained in the Gamble family until it was donated to USC and the city of Pasadena, the other Ultimates have more colorful histories. Most endured some period of neglect or abuse. The rape of the Blacker house resulted in ordinances that protect historic homes in Pasadena. I think the Thorsen house trumps them all, however. Since 1942 the Thorsen house has been home to a fraternity.

I suspect that many of you have seen the movie ?Animal House.? It?s hilarious. It?s a classic. It?s completely unlike the California (Berkeley) chapter of Sigma Phi. The brothers of Sigma Phi take their stewardship of the Thorsen house, which the fraternity purchased from the Thorsen estate, very seriously. Every Saturday morning they work as a group on maintaining the house. They learn its history. They take pride in it.

But keeping up with the demands of a 100 year old mansion (and a work of art at that) is difficult. And expensive. About 9 million dollars. If you find yourself in Berkeley, stop by the house. The brothers will happily give you a tour and accept a donation to the fund. But don?t let an inability to visit stop you from contributing. Send a few dollars and help save an historic landmark, one of the Ultimates. It?s a lot easier to keep such houses around than to wait for another genius to come along and design more.

The Thorsen House Restoration Campaign
c/o Mr. Dan McNear
Route 1
Box 264-E
San Rafael, CA 94901

The thing about being a hobbyist woodworker is that shop time is not automatic. Sometimes kids, work, kids, other projects, etc demand attention. Did I mention kids? (The empty-nesters among you can stop snickering now.) That?s just the way it goes.

Progress on the Shaker desk for my mother-in-law is slow. My wife is on a business trip to Japan so I?m looking after the kids. I have another project going on that is consuming most of my free time (watch this space for updates on this -- it?s exciting). And at work, it?s just about time for final exams.

However, there is an upside to being a hobbyist woodworker. No client has ever called demanding to know why I?m behind schedule. If I don?t feel inspired I don?t have to go into the shop. And I?ve never had to wonder where the next job is going to come from. I sometimes comfort myself with those thoughts when I wish I could just chuck it all and hang out a sign. And soon life will calm down and I?ll be back in the shop working on that desk.

It?s been a few months since I completed the Greene & Greene chest project and two since I finished the bench for my wife for Christmas. Since I?ve been busy with other things but it?s time to get going on a new project. Next up is a simple shaker style desk for my mother-in-law.

I bought the lumber, some nice cherry, at a local lumber mill just after New Year. It sat acclimating in my shop for about a month before I began milling. At this point I?ve made the legs (though they aren?t yet tapered) and gotten a good start on the aprons though I still have to make the tenons.

As it is a Shaker piece, the design is simple. In fact, the most interesting parts are hidden construction details (the top rail dovetailed into the legs and lower rail attached with twin tenons). It should be a fun project.

A popular theory holds that woodworkers belong to one of two categories: Normites, those who use power tools and only power tools; and Galoots, those who would rather take a hammer blow to the forehead than use a corded tool. It?s a religious thing, no one can be both. Like the Jets and the Sharks (when you?re a Galoot, you?re a Galoot all the way). When a Normite and a Galoot approach each other on the street everyone else crosses to the other side. There?s little common ground.

I?ve been a woodworker for ten years, more or less. Like many, I began with a table saw. My first project was a router table. I added other tools (planer, jointer, drill press, band saw) as needed but in rather quick succession. I had a well outfitted shop and all was right with the world. I was a Normite. Oh sure, I?d occasionally use chisels or even a block plane (oh, the horror) but I never strayed enough to put my American Federation of Normites membership in jeopardy. I made a number of pieces of furniture this way. Life was good.

That was the status quo for quite a while ? the electric meter was an indicator of my time in the shop. Until last year. That?s when some evil people made me think about hand tools in a serious way. There was no single event but a series of several involving talented, passionate, inspirational woodworkers. My world had been a settled, comfortable place. Until those evil people got me thinking. They motivated me to learn about the wide variety of tools and their capabilities (though there is still far to travel on this long, steep learning curve). They made me realize that some operations can be performed more accurately with hand tools. They made me spend a lot of money.

This was my introduction to Galoots. Like billionaires, I had known of their existence but I didn?t know any personally. And just as billionaires are shrouded with mystery, Galoots were an unknown quantity. I expected a bunch of throwbacks, guys stuck living in the good-old-days, possessed of a stubborn refusal to acknowledge progress. I believed that woodworkers of the past would have welcomed the opportunity to trade their planes for electric routers. Now I know better.

When I started acquiring hand tools I bought those that I thought would be useful based on what the (no longer so) evil people had demonstrated. So what did I hope to accomplish? What problems was I trying to solve? (Beyond the obvious of relieving my checking account of excess funds.) I had three goals: to improve accuracy and my ability make fine adjustments; to reduce the amount of sanding required; to wear ear plugs less often.

Several months later, I?m well on the way to accomplishing these goals. On my most recent project I used hand tools when possible. I cut finger joints largely with a hand saw and chisels. I used a block plane to round edges and trim the end grain of stiles. Tenons and panel tongues were fitted with a shoulder plane. I haunched tenons with a hand saw. The list goes on. Most importantly, the joinery turned out very well, I didn?t have to sand as much as in the past and there were entire days with no ear plugs. Along the way, I accomplished an unanticipated fourth goal: I had a great time. I?m not sure when I?ve had as much fun in the shop.

There?s no turning back now, though I won?t eliminate power tools from my shop. Frankly, the thought of dimensioning rough lumber using only hand planes is entirely unappealing. So I guess there are more than two categories for woodworkers (galootified-Normite?). So much for popular theories.

The April issue of Popular Woodworking is on it?s way to subscribers and will be available on newsstands before long. In this issue is an article I wrote about the Greene & Greene chest that has been mentioned on this blog several times before. While the full article isn?t yet available, the on-line extras are. I?m very proud of this piece. Have a look.

I have two sons. The oldest is not quite 8. This year he joined the Cub Scouts. I?m no outdoorsman so the camping doesn?t do much for me. But there?s one annual scouting event that?s right up my alley. It combines my love of woodworking and my lifelong interest in cars. It?s the Pinewood Derby.

The Pinewood Derby is the original level playing field. Every kid gets a block of wood, a few nails and four plastic wheels. The rules are simple though typical of our times they run to about half a page. And while the heats are now computer-timed the basics of the race are straightforward. A sloped track and Sir Isaac Newton are as complicated as it gets (ok, throw in some graphite powder).

Making the cars is a father/son project but the bulk of the work is to be performed by the scout. Dylan designed his car. I cut the shape on the band saw and then Dylan sanded it. And sanded it. Painting was a team effort. Turns out that spray paint cans can be difficult for seven year-old fingers to work. But we managed two coats of primer and two of Ferrari red.

A friend mentioned that the secret to speed is to sand and polish the axels (the above-mentioned nails). So we did that too. And we made sure that the wheels didn?t have any rough spots from the manufacturing process. A few decals and it was ready to race.

In Dylan?s age group there were 13 entries. Each car raced 12 times -- four runs on each of the three lanes on the track. And that?s just for one of the five age groups. So it seemed like it would be a long haul. In reality it went quickly and was fun.

In Dylan?s first set of three runs his car won each time. The look on his face was worth a million bucks. In the end, he didn?t win his group. Cars against which he didn?t race were faster. He didn?t seem to mind. Within minutes he and his brother were playing with the car on the floor. Winning is fun but not as fun as playing. Or making a car with your son.

Shop classes are fast becoming an endangered species in the United States. I suppose that the beginning of the end was when the name changed from ?shop class? to ?industrial arts.? When I was in 7th & 8th grades, all boys had to take wood shop, plastics shop and drafting class. All girls had to take home economics but the sexism inherent in our educational system is a different article.

In the 7th grade I didn?t care much about shop class. It just didn?t interest me. I did the work I had to do to make the little treasure chest project we were assigned but there was no joy in it for me. Surprising only because of my current love for working wood. More surprising however, is a dark secret I?ve hidden for nearly 35 years. My wife doesn?t know. I don?t think my parents know. In fact, I don?t think I?ve ever told anybody. You?re the first. Here it is: I was kicked out of wood shop.

Since most of you don?t know me very well that statement might not surprise you. So let me tell you, I wasn?t the kind of kid who got kicked out of classes. That was the one and only time in my scholastic career. I wouldn?t go so far as to say that I was scarred by the event but here I sit more than 30 years later writing about it. So what happened you may ask?

The shop teacher at our school was a man named Delbert Lumbert. I couldn?t make that up. No, really. Knock it off, I?m serious. OK. Mr. Lumbert seemed somewhat less interested in teaching the class than I was in taking it. I certainly don?t envy someone the task of shepherding 30 mostly uninterested kids through a minefield of sharp, spinning steel. All the same, he didn?t seem to be enjoying his chosen career. Maybe the years had gotten to him. Maybe he could see the coming extinction of his kind. Maybe he just needed a hug. But I don?t think I ever saw the man smile.

So one day I?m waiting to use the band saw. Another student is cutting something. When the offcut is free of his work piece, I reach over and remove it from the table for him. I wasn?t trying to challenge authority, I was just trying to be helpful. Of course, I recognize now that it was dangerous. Mr. Lumbert recognized it then and, as luck would have it, he saw me do it.

I can?t know the underlying cause of Mr. Lumbert?s reaction. We didn?t discuss his feelings. We didn?t discuss anything. He yelled. Loudly. I cowered. He told me to get out. I did. I don?t remember where I went but I?ll never forget walking out that door. I wish I could say that after he cooled off he reviewed shop safety with me (or the entire class). Or that he called my parents to make sure that they were aware and could remind me to be careful. But that didn?t happen. We never spoke of it again.

I have no idea what became of Mr. Lumbert. I?m sure he?s long since retired. Our brief, unhappy encounter caused no lasting damage. Who knows, maybe it was even positive. It?s not how I would want to handle such a situation but it?s hard to argue with results. After all, the lesson was well learned. Later (much later) I became an enthusiastic hobbyist woodworker. And so far, I can still count to ten without removing a shoe.

I wrote once before about the generous gift I received from Kori Capaldi, Operations Manager of the Gamble House. I met Kori when I was in Pasadena for Pasadena Heritage Craftsman Weekend in October. Because I spent quite a bit of time at ?THE house? for various tours and receptions, I got a chance to talk with Kori for a while. I told her about the chest I was building and that the lid would be restrained by a leather strap. A month or so after I returned home Kori sent me an email and asked if I?d like a piece of the leather that was used in the Gamble house when the leather straps on the lighting fixtures were replaced several years ago.

Of course I said ?No? and that was the end of it. OK, maybe I said ?Yes? and tried not to appear overly anxious in the process. You see, the Gamble house is tantamount to a religious shrine for those of us afflicted with serious cases of Greene-itis. It is indescribably beautiful. I mean that literally. No attempt to convey, using words, that amazing vision can end in anything but utter failure. Thus, to have a tangible link between the core of the G&G universe and one of my pieces of furniture is very special indeed.

Though I?ve had the leather for some time now, I?ve just completed installing it. I didn?t want to be hasty -- it had to be just right. I spent hours scouring the internet for the perfect rivets to use to attach it and the search paid off. I found a product even better than I had hoped for. Screw posts are similar to rivets but because they screw together they are removable. So if I ever have to remove the lid of the chest I won?t have to cut the leather (Actually, I wouldn?t have been able to cut the leather I would have asked my wife to do it. When I wasn?t home.). And with persistence I was able to find them in solid brass with an oil-rubbed bronze patina. With that final piece of the puzzle in place, the installation is complete. And it was worth the wait. Thanks Kori.

By the way, this chest is the subject of an article to appear in the April issue of Popular Woodworking (available early March). Unfortunately, I didn?t have the Gamble leather when photos were shot for the article -- in the magazine you?ll see a piece of upholstery leather leftover from a Morris chair project.