Favorite Tools: The Stanley #45 Combination Plane

In my woodworking, I use old hand tools as often as I can. Some of my favorites are a pair of great old Disston hand saws (rip and cross-cut), and several wood-bodied and transitional planes. But I especially enjoy using my 1918 Stanley #45 Combination Plane, seen below:

It's made of nickel-plated cast iron, and the handle, knob, and fence are of beautiful rosewood. This tool has great "presence" in the hand; the handle is easy to grip, one's hand fits nicely between the fence bars to help guide the tool through its paces, and it's hefty. By the way, the knob is purely decorative. No one I know uses it, as it sits too high to provide control of the tool. But it's pretty.

With this tool, I can plow (cutting a groove along the length of a board), rabbet (or rebate, as our British friends say; cutting a "step" along the edge of a board), dado (cutting a groove across the grain), make several types of beads (sort of a rounded corner with a groove underneath it), and make tongue-and-groove joints for edge gluing boards. It's a truly handy tool to have, and they can still be obtained on Ebay and from antique tool dealers.

Newcomers to handtools might be intimidated by all the adjustment knobs, screws, and knurled nuts. But it's easy to learn what they all do, and doing so gives you an appreciation for the genius that went into designing the #45 and its elegant brother, the Stanley #55.

I'm currently making a set of Barrister's Bookcases, and I used my #45 to cut the dados that will guide the doors when I open them.

The tool performed perfectly:

If you have the chance to lay hold of a Stanley #45, then I highly recommend that you do. It's an historic tool that was designed and made in an age when quality and craftsmanship reigned. Once you master its use (it's not difficult), you'll feel a fellowship with men from another time, men who could transform a pile of wood into a beautiful desk, table, blanket chest, bookcase, shelf, or whatever, without assistance from the electrical grid.

Update

Hey, Folks,

I'm still here, but am dealing with the cruel vicissitudes of life. I'll be posting more Comedy of Errors commentary in a day or so (you can do so, too), and I'll start a series on crystal radio (xtal) construction. I plan on showing you how to build probably 7 - 10 different xtal sets, and then we'll move into regenerative (shortwave) construction. (Believe me - you CAN do it, and you'll enjoy it.) More woodworking is on the way, too. I just have to take care of some emergent items before I give our projects the attention they deserve.

See you then!

The Comedy of Errors, Act 2, Scene 1

Summary

The scene opens at the home of Antipholus E., where his wife Adriana (I love that name) is upset that her husband is not home, and her sister Luciana is trying to console her. Luciana’s take on the situation is that Adriana needs to understand that a man’s domain is outside the home, in the large world, where his sphere is broad and his concerns are many. This is in accordance with the example of nature, and Adriana should content herself to serve her husband so he can fulfill his ordained station. Adriana says her sister, unmarried, has no standing to make such and assertion.

Dromio E. enters, and explains that he delivered Adriana’s message to her husband (who was not her husband), and was beaten for his troubles. Adriana orders Dromio E. back to her husband to fetch him home. He refuses, as he doesn’t want to endure another whoopin’ at the hand of Antipholus. Adriana is angered, and administers the whoopin’ he had hoped to avoid. He exercises the only defense available to him – he puts distance between himself and her.

Adriana admits to Luciana that she is insecure in her marriage, fearing that her looks have faded and thus driven her husband to the company of other women.


Commentary

This scene is full. It is philosophical, comical, and touching. Adriana feels detached from her husband, as she is ignorant of his activities. Dromio E.’s report only heightens her pain. Who can blame her for thinking that perhaps her husband has drifted into unfaithfulness? And while Luciana’s argument is commendable, she is indeed speaking from ignorance; she can not know what Adriana is going through. Still, her speech is lovely, and if a man knew that his wife felt that way about him, then he would be moved to greater affection for her, unless he be heartless. There is nothing wrong with what Luciana says – although I can easily imagine latter-day feminazis savaging her.

Ignorance is the most prominent element of this play. Adriana is ignorant of her husband's activities; Luciana is ignorant of Adriana's situation; everyone is ignorant that two sets of twins are in the same location; and everyone is ignorant of Egeon's presence.

Some of my favorite lines in this scene:

“Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.” (2.1.15)

“Ere I learn love, I’ll practice to obey.” (2.1.29)

“Patience unmoved! No marvel, though she pause;
They can be meek that have no other cause.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry.
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain.” (2.1.32-37)

I also like Adriana’s speeches in 86-100 and 102-114. This poor woman is suffering. Finally, I appreciate how Shakespeare has Adriana and Luciana speak to each other in rhymes. To me, it’s a beautiful mark of their sisterhood.

This scene is a skillfully contrived set-up for the next. It's as though the action could not have run any other course. Such inevitability is one of the marks of superb writing, and is a hallmark of Shakespeare's genius. Be proud of him, my kin, and be proud of yourselves, for you are of the same root and stock as Shakespeare.

Fretless Mountain Banjo, Part 2

You can see I've made some changes to the banjo neck. I did so to experiment with simplifying construction.

Instead of making a 15° cut and attaching the headstock with a scarf joint, I've extended the neck laminations to form the headstock.

I was correct - it greatly simplifies construction. So if the scarf joint scared you away from making a banjo for yourself, now you have no excuse for not making one. I encourage you to give it a try. I'll help you along.

I also changed the headstock design from the double radius style to a "slab" style, a la Martin guitars. I much prefer this style to the previous one, as I think it complements the rustic appeal of the banjo.

I have to make and attach the nut (the part at the base of the headstock that guides the strings), make the bridge and tailpiece, drill the tuning peg holes, make the tuning pegs, and make the metal ring over which the skin will be stretched.

At this point, the instrument is "in the white." I like the sound of that. But it means that it's unstained and un-topcoated. I wish you could see it in person, because it's pretty. Mrs. Smith wants me to stain it, but I'm considering simply applying a few coats of clear varnish. Over time, the maple wood will turn a brownish color, especially if I expose it to sunlight. It's a beautiful, rich, mellow color that you can't buy in a can. Offer your opinion on the subject, if you care to.

I corresponded with several men who make mountain banjos, about my plan of extending the neck laminations to form the headstock. I respect those men, because they create beautiful instruments, and have been doing so for a long time. But, to a man, they disdained what I've done. All of them are of the school that bandsaws the neck and headstock from a solid piece. As I wrote in Part 1, I think that's wasteful. Besides, when you saw the angled headstock from a solid block, you're reducing the grain length, and thus weakening the headstock. Now, I admit that I've never heard of a bandsawn headstock failing or breaking. But why take a chance, when a simple change will ensure its structural integrity without affecting the sound, while simplifying construction? I see nothing wrong with my design, which I copied from electric guitars. Also, the men with whom I corresponded are all of the opinion that they are the true heirs of the Stanley Hicks design and method. They're like psychiatrists who compete with each other for ideological proximity to Sigmund Freud: "I was analyzed by Dr. Marvin Goldberg, who was analyzed by Dr. Abraham Cohenstein, who was analyzed Dr. Schlomo Rosenheim, who was analyzed by Dr. Freud." When it comes to selling mountain banjos, the closer you claim to be to Stanley Hicks, the more money you believe you can charge for your instruments. I don't give a rodent's backside about such political jockeying nonsense. Let them play their silly little banjo-genealogy games. You just start making an instrument for yourself, and look forward to learning to play it like our noble ancestors did.

The BBC Shakespeare Collection

Here you'll find many of the productions in the BBC Shakespeare Collection. (Too bad for us, no The Comedy of Errors.)

The Comedy of Errors, Act 1, Scene 2

Note: I should have posted this last week, but I didn't, so what the hey. If anyone else wants to post a synopsis, then be my guest. The point is that we read the plays. Also, I should have pointed out that Solinus giving Egeon until sunset to raise his ransom makes this story a "race against the clock." How exciting, eh?

The scene is still in Ephesus. Antipholus of Syracuse (the twin that Egeon raised; we’ll call him Antipholus S.) is talking with a merchant who is also his friend. The merchant tells Antipholus that on that very day another Syracusian merchant has been arrested and sentenced to die at sunset, in accordance with the law of the land. The merchant advises Antipholus to say that he is from Epidamnum, and he gives Antipholus some money (a thousand gold marks, oddly enough). Antipholus gives the money to his servant, Dromio of Syracuse (henceforth Dromio S.) and tells him to take it and their luggage to the Centaur Inn and to wait for him their, while he tours the city. When Dromio leaves, Antipholus praises him, and invites the merchant join him on his tour and to have dinner with him. The merchant declines the tour, but tells Antipholus that he’ll join him for dinner, and takes his leave saying, “Sir, I commend you to thy content.” The valedictory causes Dromio to meditate upon and bemoan his unhappiness at being unable to find his mother and brother:

“He that commends me to me to mine own content
Commends me to the thing I cannot get. . .
So I, to find a mother and a brother,
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself.”
(1.2.33-34, 39-40)

While he meditates, Dromio of Ephesus (Dromio E.) appears. Of course, Antipholus thinks him to be his own servant, and he marvels and exclaims that Dromio has so quickly – and so carelessly – returned from the Centaur Inn, leaving unattended their belongings and the thousand gold marks. Dromio explains that he is there to fetch Antipholus home for supper, as his mistress is angry over his rudeness. Antipholus wants to know where the money is. Dromio thinks he is talking about sixpence that Antipholus gave him some days earlier to pay for repairs to his mistress’s saddle. Antipholus becomes angry, and soon begins to wail away on poor Dromio, who flees to avoid any other wrath to come. With Dromio gone, Antipholus is reminded that Ephesus is a known haven for “dark-working sorcerers that change the mind” and “soul-killing witches that deform the body”, and one of them must have hexed Dromio. (1.2.99-100). “If it be so, I will be gone the sooner.” (1.2.103)

With that, he hurries to the Centaur Inn to check on his possessions, and to confront Dromio.

1.2.33 gives us a bit of a language lesson. The phrase “mine own” might seem archaic, but it is a correct construction. Language theory says that spoken language should flow smoothly. Today, we use the phrase “my own,” which has a slight break between the words. That break is called a “hiatus,” or a rest. “Mine own” prevents hiatus and allows the speech to flow smoothly. A more common example of hiatus and the prevention thereof is the phrase “an historical event”: Most people, including “professional” communicators such broadcast news reporters, will mistakenly say “a historical event.” (Look in your writer’s guide or style guide for “articles and determiners.” It’ll explain how to avoid hiatus.)

There is a wonderful paradox in 1.2.39-40. Antipholus has implied that he will lose himself - in his search for his mother and brother - in order to find himself. Paradox is a prominent Shakespearean element, and we’ll see it again in The Comedy of Errors.

The BBC production of The Comedy of Errors casts Roger Daltry of The Who in the role of Dromio. He did a superb job, much better than he did in the title role of Tommy. If you have the means to lay hold of the BBC’s Shakespeare collection, then I recommend them to you. They’re very good.