Tips on Documenting Antiques

Say you've spotted an antique in a museum that you would dearly love to reproduce. How do you obtain permission and, if approved, how do you go about taking measurements and photographs?

First, you need to contact the museum's curator and ask for permission. In correspondence, be polite, honest, brief, and let the curator know that you will accommodate his/her schedule.

So. Now you have permission to document measurements and photos of your beloved artifact. What do you need? How do you prepare? All you need is a ruler, tape measure, notebook, pen, and camera, right?
Yes and no.

That's all that accompanied me on my appointment with the scheitholts, and I was ill prepared....and nervous that I would take up too much of the director's time. So much so in fact, that I forgot to take the measurements of the overall length of both zithers!

This morning I heard back from the curator at the Gettysburg Military Museum, granting me permission to photograph and measure Robert E. Lee's Medicine Box (after December).

I haven't been this excited since the Christmas I unwrapped my "Space 1999" action figure set and model spaceship.

This time, I'll take a worksheet with me that lists all the parts of the cabinet that need to be measured and columns for wood/other material, width, length, height, and thickness. I'll also sketch the cabinet (it helps if you can take a snapshot before your appointment) and label the parts so I remember what each set of measurements refers to.

The other thing I'll do is not get too creative with the photos (like I did with the zithers). I'll be sure to take lateral, top & bottom, and straight on shots of each part of the cabinet. That way, if I forget to take a measurement, I can refer to the photo and use a known measurement to obtain the missing one.

Have I forgotten anything? Probably. But it's an exciting learning experience of galactic proportions.

Scheitholt

When I first visited the Mercer Museum last year, more than just handtools caught my eye. I was intrigued by folksy musical instruments, called Scheitholts (also Zither or Zitter). The Germans who settled in Pennsylvania and other parts of Colonial America in the early to mid-1700s brought the zither, or at least the idea of the instrument, with them.

The ones on display in the museum’s current exhibit "Everyday Rhythms" are 19th c. However, a few 18th c. zithers are know to exist, including a 1781 instrument on loan to the museum and one in the Colonial Williamsburg collection, which is represented in a photo enlargement. Zithers (both those played with a pick or quill and those played with a bow), dulcimers, and other early musical instruments are included in this special exhibit which will run through May of next year. Permission to include the photos I took provided courtesy of the Mercer Museum/Bucks County Historical Society, Doylestown, PA.

Zithers, although each one slightly different, are basically a tapering, hollow (but for the solid wood head) trapezoidal-shaped stringed instrument.

3 melody strings were accompanied by multiple, perhaps 6, drone strings and were plucked or strummed with a quill. Songs played on zithers tended to be slow and produced a deeper sound than that of a dulcimer. At the “Everyday Rhythms” exhibit, you can hear melodies played on a reproduction zither.

The strings, most likely made from animal gut, were tightened by iron or wood pins and passed over wire staple frets, of which there were normally 14. The instrument typically rested on a table top with the strings nearest the player as he/she strummed.

Although more refined and ornate versions of the scheitholt were made professionally in Europe, the ones discovered in Pennsylvania are much more modest and practical. Nonetheless, craftsmen decorated their product with simple carvings, cutout shapes, and chamfered edges.

I contacted the museum’s Vice President of Collections and Interpretation who granted me some alone time with two zithers and permitted me to take measurements and photographs. He also offered me a stack of information about the instruments from which much of this information was obtained.

One of the zithers I examined is left-handed, has 19 frets, and has cutouts of a circle, a crescent, and an “S” in the soundboard, which may be interpreted as initials: O. D. S. There are remnants of a reddish stain and the strings are secured with carved wood pegs at the tail end of the instrument.

The other zither is a little more elegant, with a shaped tuning head on one end and a round over on the other. The soundhole is made with semi-circle shaped holes and with punched indentations for decoration, presumably. Instead of wood pegs, strings are held in place with brads.

The soundboard on zither #1 is 1/4” thick while zitter #2’s soundboard is 1/16” - 3/32” thick. Both zithers’ sideboards are made from 1/4” thick lumber, and the tuning heads are solid wood.

Zithers were enthusiastically played throughout the 19th century among German speaking communities, and yet original instruments are difficult to find.

I was grateful to get an up close look at these rare scheitholts and look forward to making my own someday. Now, if only I were musically-inclined....

I'm a Lucky, Lucky Lady

The EAIA meetup last weekend was held at the recently renovated Dills Tavern, originally built in 1794. The weathermen promised a warm, sunny day, but it was cloudy and frigid, which prevented me from staying for all the day's activities. I was sorry to have missed Jim Leamy's afternoon lecture on making plow planes. The ivory plow plane was one of many of his exquisite planes that were on display.

Tailgating with vendors who were selling antique tools started early, and was followed by presentations by the man in charge of restoration —Sam McKinney—and a decendant of the family who purchased the tavern in 1800—Bob Eichelberger.

The three years it's taken to bring the tavern back to its original form included removal of many Victorian elements and additions that were added in the late 19th century. The kitchen needed to be gutted and other rooms needed major work, but as much as possible of the original architecture and flooring was salvaged. That which could not be saved was either replaced with elements that were purchased from other period buildings or were authentically reproduced by the men who conducted the renovations. On display were a plethora of antique moulding planes that they employed during construction.

"We basically removed anything that used common nails" explained Sam, who in my opinion is part detective—because of his ability to uncover the clues that enabled him to restore the historic building to its original state—and part visionary.

The tavern, outbuildings, and grounds are being fashioned in the same pattern as Eastfield Village, where Sam has taken classes since 1983. His vision is to replicate the original Dills Tavern setting, including distillery (ironic, since Dillsburg is currently a dry town), and to offer workshops that teach 18th c. techniques in stonework, timber framing, basket making, wool dyeing, and open hearth cooking.

But that's not the best part.

They have recently started construction of an 18th c. timber frame woodwright's shop, in which the 3 men who have so diligently reconstructed the tavern will build authentic reproduction furniture, including my favorite, PA German. Their pieces will furnish the tavern and will also be for sale.

With only a 15 minute drive to Dillsburg, I plan to conduct many drive-by droolings as the shop is being constructed, and occasionally stop to talk with the builders. One gave me his card and said to "stop by anytime." (honest!)

I will try my best to practice restraint and not make him regret having told me that....lest I be labeled the Dills Tavern Stalker.

Finished Cross

Finished, but for the finish, which will most likely be boiled linseed oil.

For the inlay, I traced around the pieces with an exacto knife, defined the incisions with a small veiner, hollowed the background with a laminate trimmer, and cleaned up the shapes with chisels and gouges.

The small circles of purpleheart were made with a plug cutter at the drill press.

The other shapes were rough cut at the band saw and cleaned up with files. I filed a slight underbevel on the inlay pieces so they would drop into the recessed areas more easily.

At first I made the center circle, inlaid the small purpleheart cross, and then tried to cut it out at the bandsaw, which caused it to split. Live and learn! The better way was to first inlay the circle in the large cross and then inlay the small cross inside the circle.

The other lesson I learned is to inlay the pieces first and carve the knots second. That way, you can plane the surface smooth before carving. Since I carved first and inlaid second, the only way to flatten the inlaid pieces was with sandpaper and scraper.

There are lots of errors on this cross—you can see gaps in the inlay pieces for one thing. But since this cross will be given to a church, I'm not concerned. They're supposed to forgive imperfection. It's like a rule or something.

The chisels and gouges I used are from left to right:
1. 2a/1 Bent Chisel
2. 1a/6 Bent Chisel
3. Flat Chisel (I think a 1mm or 2mm)
4. Straight Gouge (I think a 1mm or 2mm, 5 sweep)
5. Straight Gouge—3mm, 5 sweep
6. Straight Chisel—6mm
7. Straight Gouge—6mm, 5 sweep
8. Straight Gouge—10mm, 3 sweep
9. Straight Chisel—12mm
10. Straight Gouge—12mm, 3 sweep
11. Straight Gouge—16mm, 7 sweep

The gouges matched the various radii of the curves, but you could get away with using an exacto knife to follow the curves. I freehand cut the center circle in fact. The bent chisels were used to flatten the recessed areas behind the knots while the straight chisels were used to clean up the recessed edges of the inlay and carve the flat surfaces and chamfers on the knots.

Mercer Museum

The Mercer Museum, in Doylestown, PA, houses an enormous collection of tools and other artifacts that were used prior to the Industrial Revolution.

Among the exhibits are tools used by physicians, blacksmiths, clock makers, tinsmiths, cooks, cobblers, farmers, and woodworkers, in addition to many others; and collections of pottery, stove plates, painted chests, stagecoaches, boats, and much more.

Henry Mercer, historian, archaeologist, and owner of the Moravian Pottery and Tileworks, recognized the need to preserve the pieces that were being discarded in place of modern, manufactured items following the Industrial Revolution. He amassed nearly 30,000 goods and built a 6-story concrete castle in which to display them.*

The castle itself is remarkable, filled with little alcoves, winding stairs, and a central atrium within which the largest of Mercer's pieces hang suspended in mid-air. The building is literally stuffed full of artifacts. Each floor surrounds the central and open atrium which provides a view to the floors above and below.

Both the inside and outside of the castle are constructed with concrete. Even the muntins and mullions in the windows that afford views of each room's exhibit are made with it. Inside there are few sharp corners, mainly softened edges, even on the stairs; and arched entryways, rather than stiff and rectangular openings, separate spaces. I had never thought that concrete could seem so organic.

Within the Mercer Museum is the Spruance Library, a research library open to the public, which preserves written material focused on Bucks County history, the history of trades and crafts, and the life of Henry Mercer. I have yet to visit the library, which no doubt, is worth a trip back to Doylestown.

*After Mercer's death, the museum continued to collect tools and artifacts. Today, there are over 50,000 pieces in the collection, some of which may be post-Industrial Revolution.

Things I Learned in the Shop Today

1. If you pound it hard enough with a mallet, it will fit.
1. a. Oh yeah...but it will split.
2. Tears shed on wood have grain-raising properties.
3. Titebond III has gap-filling, project-salvaging capabilities.
4. If you work with purpleheart, rest assured, you will get a splinter.
5. Sometimes it's best to walk away from a project.
6. Tiny pieces of wood are more difficult to work with than larger ones.
7. I might need bifocals.

Celtic Cross Update

The practice knot I carved when I started this project has a rounded look, like rope, but I tried something different with the final cross. Instead of creating rounded edges, they're chamfered, and I think it looks a lot nicer. (It's also a faster and easier technique.)

I used a gouge to chamfer the inside curves and cleaned them up with a small round file. All straight edges and outside curves were chamfered with a straight chisel.

Just another option if you plan to try this type of carving.

The Best Bookstore, EVER!

Baldwin's Book Barn, located in Chester County, PA, is 4 stories of ruggedly-built shelves that support over 300,000 used and rare books.

The main portion of the store is a former dairy barn built in 1822. Original flooring, rafters, and doors remain, providing the proper setting for the collection.

A grassy embankment behind the barn slopes upward to the second floor, enabling the 19th c. farmer to easily move things to the upper levels. This embankment is characteristic of a Pennsylvania Bank Barn.

Inside is a catacomb of tomes.

Stacks and shelves and row after row of hard to find and out of print literature are a book-lover's dream.

I found the handmade lock on the door that leads from the lobby to the barn particularly interesting. The bowed piece of oak on the left, which was originally longer and has since snapped off, acted as a spring mechanism to slap the bolt shut as the farmer closed the door, thus keeping ol' Bessie from getting loose.

It's nearly impossible to leave the store without finding some must-have book. I purchased three.

One is a book on Pennsylvania Dutch furniture ($27) and one is about handtools ($4). You may notice a few loose papers sticking out of the handtool book. Baldwin's includes whatever papers were tucked within the book by the previous owner. Mine contains articles about woodworking that were clipped from local papers in the 1970's.

So, what's the unassuming little brown book? That is a 1952 reprint of The Village Carpenter, by Walter Rose ($12).

You never know what little treasure you'll find at Baldwin's, but no doubt, you will find one.