Every once in a while, a plane has come into my possession with a back-story. If you peruse back through the thread, you’ll read about a few planes I came across that were more than just tools I bought somewhere along the line. If there’s some background behind the plane, I try to relate that to the readers. I really enjoy knowing the history of a plane, when it was manufactured, who owned it, etc. That’s not always possible. For many of the planes in my collection, I don’t have those answers and never will. Although I don’t have those answers, many of those planes that were initially obtained as user tools or additions to my collection and became just as special to me because of the history I created using them, or the lessons I learned because of them.
Prior to featuring this next plane, I tried to organize my thoughts in terms of how I’d present the plane, yet still cover all the points I wanted to make. You see, this plane, and its later successor, hit on several topics and points I’ve tried to make throughout the thread. Based on my track record, many of you are probably thinking, “Oh boy, this is gonna be a long one.” Well, if I tried to write it all in one post, it would be a long one! I’ll spare you having to suffer through my ramblings all at once. Because this particular plane does have a story or two attached to it as well as a couple of lessons learned, I think it makes sense to present the content in two or three posts. I’ll try to keep it interesting.
Way back in the thread, I wrote a little about my first serious encounter using hand planes. You might recall it had to do with making an island/table in my kitchen. (See page 9, reply 121.) Do you remember that? Anyway, not too long after my relatively successful purchase and use of two expensive Lie-Nielsen hand planes, and a resulting over inflated confidence in my hand plane skills and knowledge, I decided to venture into the world of vintage hand planes, mostly because I thought they’d be less expensive than their L-N counterparts. I had been doing some research and actually bought a couple old block planes at garage sales for only a few dollars each. One I recall was a Stanley #15 in its original box. I sharpened the iron and was on my way. I had just purchased a pretty good Stanley #4 ½ smoother too, that I had barely figured out and was already thinking it’s time to move on to something a little more exotic. How hard could it be to buy old hand planes online? Seemed easy enough. So I started searching for old planes on the Internet. Not long after arriving in the cyber world of vintage tools, I came across a well-known antique tool dealer who held, and still holds auctions on a regular basis. His auctions described practically every hand plane as being in “fine” condition and still retaining “95%” or more of its original japanning, etc. Part of every listing included an anticipated sales price range and text that said something like “Complete and in good working order.” accompanied by a small photo. That’s what I had to go on, and without doing a lick of homework in any way, I jumped in with both feet. I opened an auction account and after looking at the planes up for auction, for reasons I honestly cannot remember, decided I needed a Stanley #289 rabbet plane. I hardly knew what a rabbet plane did, as I was still making rabbet joints on a router table, or with a stacked dado blade on my table saw. One might think I’d go after something a little less expensive like a common Stanley #78 for instance. No, I needed the #289. The auction house seemed reputable (TO BE ABSOLUTELY CLEAR, IT WAS AND STILL IS.), so I put in a healthy absentee bid based entirely on the listed anticipated sales price. I wanted to win the auction. Did I mention I put in a healthy bid? Not understanding that my over aggressive bid had set the starting mark for that particular plane, and because I had grossly overbid right out of the gate, no one on the auction floor bid, and I had evidently outbid all other absentee bids. About a week later, I got an email saying I had won the auction. I probably should have read up a little more on “buyer’s premiums” and “shipping costs” too. Needless to say, I ended up with a “fine” user quality plane that was “complete and in good working order.” More than twenty five years later, I still remember to the penny what I paid for that plane! I should say, what I OVER paid for that plane. That was the first serious case I suffered of “hand plane buyer’s remorse” and I still had no clue how to use a rabbet plane. Well that plane sat in my shop for about five years. I tinkered with it now and then, but I never really used it. . . .
My grandma on my mom’s side was a gem in every way. She was the definition of what every grandma should be. She was an amazing quilter, a respectable china painter, and a collector of small jewelry boxes. None of the boxes were valuable, but more like sentimental keepsakes she had received over the years from grandchildren or purchased during weekend trips to where ever. Anyway, after a holiday dinner a few years before she passed, she was directing me where to put a folding table in the back of a bedroom closet. On the dresser in the room was her collection of jewelry boxes. Out of the blue, she asked me if I could make a shadow box or small cabinet to display them. I said I’d give it a try. Her only request was that I construct the cabinet from wood that was still in my grandpa’s shop in the basement. He was very frugal and his projects were more often than not constructed from old pallets he accumulated. I went into the basement and found a little poplar, walnut and cedar. Okay, I had the wood, and I made a promise to my grandma.
Before I left, I made templates of the jewelry box bottoms, and took a few height measurements from each. A day or so after I got back home, I came up with a small cabinet design that included sliding dovetails, a few drawers with raised panel bottoms and a carcass that featured a raised panel back set in grooves. Prior to cutting even a single piece of wood, I had decided I was going to use my little hand plane collection as much as possible. . . including my #289. I spent the next several days practicing cutting rabbet joints with and across the grain using the #289. Without getting into the details of the Stanley #289 (which will be featured in part 2 of the #289 post sequence), I eventually built up enough confidence and practical skill to cut the rabbets on the panels of the drawer bottoms and the cabinet back using that plane. The cabinet took me a couple weeks to make and I ultimately gave it to her shortly thereafter. She displayed those jewelry boxes in the cabinet until she passed. After she was gone, the collection of jewelry boxes was dispersed to grand daughters and the cabinet came back to me. In the next post, I’ll tell you a little more about the #289.
Jim C.
