Back about fifteen to twenty years ago, I used to attend an annual swap meet and antique tool auction in rural Indiana. The venue was a place called Darley’s Barn. Anyone here familiar with it? Anyway, one of the highlights of the trip was the lunch provided by Scott Darley. I think that was his name, and if I got that wrong, please forgive me Mr. Darley. The food was great and worth the trip all by itself. I always had pretty good luck at that event in terms of finding a nice plane or two either on someone’s for sale table, or at the auction, or both.
Like most auctions, potential bidders have an opportunity to look over the lots before the fun starts, and the Darley’s Barn auction was no different. After I walked around looking at all the tools for sale and taking some notes, I made my way into the barn to see what was going to be auctioned off. There were some good tools and among them several nice planes in mostly top user quality shape. Well, one in particular caught my eye. As I stood just a few feet away pretending to show interest in another plane, I listened to two gentlemen discussing the plane that I intended to bid on. After they moved on, I took a closer look at the plane and satisfied myself that everything was correct and sound in terms of the plane’s patina, continuity of its parts, and its overall condition. It wasn’t gem mint perfect, but its original box had protected it from the “white paint splatters” and other shop mishaps that seem to occur over time. So the auction started and the plane I wanted was lot #32. Things moved pretty quickly as they always do at an auction and lot #32 was only a couple away from hitting block. All along I kept an eye on the man who I had seen earlier showing interest in the plane. Up to this point, he hadn’t bid on anything. I got to thinking he was saving his money for lot #32. I was doing the same thing.
Finally lot #32 was on the auction block and his bid card went up as soon as the auctioneer opened his mouth. Not just up with a bent elbow, but a fully extended arm. This guy was serious! Just a couple rows ahead of me, another man jumped in and these two went back and forth for what seemed like a long time. In reality it probably wasn’t much more than a minute and by then, the plane was reaching what I thought was its reasonable value. Apparently, the man in front of me thought so too and he dropped out. The auctioneer looked around the room, asked if there were any more bids and started the count down. As he got to “…….Going twice.” I raised my card, blurted out my bid and hoped the man I had seen earlier looking at the plane wouldn’t counter, because my one and only bid was my budget and I had to save a little for the buyer’s premium too. The auctioneer looked around the room, asked for any more bids, waited a second or two and the count down started again, “Going once. Going twice. Sold!”
Stanley #72:
I didn’t go to the Darley’s auction looking for anything in particular but when I saw this #72 chamfer plane in its original picture box, I knew I’d have to at least take an honest shot at it if I ever expected to add one to my collection. The #72 is not a very common plane, and in its original box, it became almost too much to resist. I got lucky on that one. This isn’t the type of plane that the typical homeowner/DIYer would have likely purchased back in the day. I’ve never seen one at a garage sale, flea market or antique shop. Maybe a professional cabinet maker would have had some need for a dedicated chamfer plane but even still, it reminds me of tool that’s a luxury versus a necessity. I think it’s just another example of Stanley trying to fill every potential niche in the world of hand planes. Cutting a forty five degree chamfer along the length of a workpiece can easily be accomplished with a simple block plane. Still, there must have been some measurable demand for the #72, as Stanley offered it for more than fifty years between 1886 and 1938.
In 2009, John Wells and Chuck Wirtenson, published a type study regarding the #72 chamfer plane. In that paper, they speculated that, “An economical size batch of chamfer plane castings was probably made, then castings were used as needed to assemble planes required to fill orders.” I tend to agree with that statement. Like I said, cutting a chamfer can easily be done with a block plane. Those examples that I’ve examined over the years didn’t change too much, suggesting that they were sold only as requested from the plane using public. So parts and castings for the #72 could have been used for years into the future even as trademarks on cutting irons changed and casting marks and patent dates progressed and were evident on other Stanley models. Like I’ve said so many times, Stanley did not waste inventory. They used it until it was gone, and in the case of the #72, that could have been several years after the parts were made. I guess in short, I’m of the opinion that the #72 was a specialty plane that one had to order and was not necessarily available in hardware stores across America. It’s very likely that a #72 could be ordered several years after it was eliminated from Stanley catalogs, so long as there were castings and parts still in Stanley’s inventory. Based on the referenced type study, the example below has physical characteristics that are consistent with a Type 6/Type 7, manufactured at some point between 1910 and 1920.
At some point right around 1909, the #72 included a bullnose attachment that allowed the user to cut a chamfer into the corner of a workpiece. As you can imagine, it’s a part that’s frequently missing, and it’s fragile along the leading edge and corners. It’s an expensive part that’s tough to find. The cutting iron is another part to closely inspect. Since the iron is adjusted by hand or with the aid of a small brass hammer, there are no slots or gear engagement ridges that one would find on a typical block plane outfitted with an iron advance/retract mechanism. Basically, an original, correct #72 cutting iron is flat on both sides. It will have a trademark stamp, but that’s all. A block plane iron will work, but be aware that it’s a replacement. The rear tote is also unique to the plane itself. If you look closely, notice that its toe is sort of squared off to fit the casting below.
Over the years I’ve used the #72 when I have a long chamfered cut to make on a table leg or some other relatively long workpiece. While it delivers a very nice, uniform chamfer, it’s difficult to start the cut. Because there’s really no support on the front section of the plane, the user must start the cut a couple inches away from the end of the workpiece. Then as the cut develops going towards the opposite end of the workpiece, the user must turn the plane around and cut the chamfer on the few inches that were uncut at the beginning of the chamfer. Typically, that means cutting those few inches against the grain. That might cause some tear out. But if the plane is set for a very light pass and outfitted with a sharp iron, such tear out can be minimal or even avoided. By raising the front section of the plane, the chamfer will be subtle. Lowering the front section of the plane will result in a more prominent chamfer. What’s nice about the plane is that the chamfer is repeatable. That being said, until the inverted “v” sole on the rear section of the plane fully registers on both sides of the workpiece, the user is essentially cutting the chamfer freehand. Only when the plane is fully seated on both sides of the ninety degree corner of the workpiece will a forty five degree chamfer be achieved. I know that might sound confusing, however I hope the photos below will help with my explanation.
This is a fun plane to use and it will deliver a uniform chamfer. It’s considered somewhat rare even though it was offered by Stanley for five decades. If you’re going to buy one, inspect it carefully, do your homework, and if it’s missing parts, pass on it. Parts are tough to come by and they won’t be cheap.
Jim C.