Down the Rabbet Joint Hole

Last Thursday I told the tale of how I began my adventures as a fledgling writer working on the IBM Selectric II that my father bought for me. Somehow I forgot to include the story of the handy dandy 25 lbs. walnut (heavy) carrying case that my father made for me.

As you can see I still have it, nearly 50 years after he measured, measured again, cut, cut again (probably), sanded, varnished, jointed, hinged and completed his first real woodworking project.

It sits in my daughter's old bedroom (perhaps it will become my new woodworking studio) and houses her various art supplies. She's very creative, not so much with words, but more visually oriented. 

My father's carpenter journey is worth retelling (even if I've told it before). 

Following the wayward years of his misspent youth, including hanging out with mooks like the fellow on the left (Dad on the right). I accidentally came across this picture -- which I had never seen before -- last week ,while looking for something else.

And a disastrous year of incarceration while in the Army for Reefer Madness in 1947. Fortunately, my father turned his life around. 180 degrees around. Married, worked, went to college at night, worked two jobs, got his CPA, saved, worked some more, bought a house, raised three kids, kept working, and built a comfortable nest egg for himself.

But being of a restless nature, and having conquered many life obstacles, including three rounds of Outward Bound, my father was always looking for a challenge. And what could be more challenging to a Bronx-born, Jewish accountant, who'd never held a Phillips head screwdriver in his hand than the magical, gentile world of Finish Carpentry.

Shortly after buying a house in Suffern, NY, he became acutely aware of the cost of maintaining said home. Including all the expensive repair work that needed to be done. Being frugal by nature and necessity, he didn't want any part of paying someone to do work he believed he could do himself. Television, and the good folks at Time Life, came to rescue.

Before long, we had every colorful book in the Time Life DIY Series:

Do Your Own Plumbing

Electricity Made Easy

Power Tools and the Powerful Men that Use Them.

As it is in my case, it could be said of my father, "If he's in for dime, he's in for a dollar." 

And so his love of saving money on home repairs escalated into furniture you can make on your own. With every new woodworking book that landed on our coffee table came a trip to the local Rickle's (East Coast predecessor to Home Depot and Lowe's) for a grinder, a router, a two-handed miter saw and a monstrously large, dangerous looking, Radial Arm Saw, which scared the shit out of my mother.

Every free moment he had was spent making shit, for instance the IBM Selectric carrying case. I don't know where he thought I'd be carrying that anvil-like typewriter. Portability was not among the Selectric II's selling points. 

From there he progressed with Siegel-like determination to crafting end tables, bookshelves, credenzas, etc. If there was wood involved, my father knew he could make it into something.

My buddies would often come over to pick me up for a night of trouble, greet my mother, "Hey Mrs. Siegel" and on the way out the door rib me with, "Hey what's Al building today?" My mother was always Mrs. Siegel, my father was always Al.

His carpentry capers culminated with the construction of a true Finnish Sauna off the master bathroom, a stunning replica of the one he had seen in the TL book. Not dissimilar to this.

Before he succumbed to prostate cancer in 1989, he had once last dream. He wanted to combine his mastery of maple, oak and walnut with his newfound love of equally un-Bronx-like nature: sailing. Which he discovered while in Maine on a 10 day excusrion with the aforementioned Outward Bound.

To that end he set about looking into building his own 35 foot Chris Craft sailboat. The good folks at Chris Craft actually had a kit for skilled woodworkers like my father.

And I don't have the slightest doubt in my mind that he would have done it and it would have been beautiful.

I've said it before, I'll say it again: FUCK CANCER!

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As an addendum and because last week's plea for a housekeeper worked out, I need the name and number of a good carpenter. This house needs so much work. Send me your people.