Home-made tools
Take a journey and enjoy some great old tools
Many sheds have things on their shelves that are visually interesting but not strictly useful — perhaps a torque wrench the sheddie made during their apprenticeship, a tool or toolbox that was their father’s or grandfather’s, or an antique mechanical curiosity of some kind.
Most woodworkers lucky enough to own a very valuable Stanley No. 1 bench plane or a Sargent No. 1507 Ladybug rebate plane would have it on display rather than be using it. These two planes command such high prices that modern reproductions of them are available.
Valuable antique tools
Some sheds, of course, have more than just a few ‘display only’ tools and their owners may have spent significant sums accumulating their collections. Serious tool collectors will have an encyclopedic knowledge of their particular enthusiasm and will have formed definite opinions about the history of tool use in New Zealand — for instance, the relative rarity of old tools being found in their original box. Antique tools in their own box (IOB) may be worth twice as much as the tool alone.
A retired plumber who is a prolific collector told me that New Zealand tradesmen had historically been paid less than their counterparts in some other countries and that their tools — almost all of which were imported — had been much more expensive. This meant that New Zealand workers couldn’t afford to buy a lot of gear; every purchase had to be carefully considered. When they did buy a tool it was because they had a real and continuing need for it. And the tool would be worked hard. The boxes containing tools used very regularly would have a hard life and would soon fall apart. The boxes that have survived are often extensively repaired with packaging tape, or have been replaced with a new, more durable box made by the owner.
Good as new
Ironically, the tools that regularly turn up in boxes in good nick are tools that are not very useful. Record fibreboard planes such as the Record No. 735 or Record No. 730 are usually found in very good condition, in relatively undamaged boxes, indicating that their owners didn’t use them very much — if at all.
Even more ironic is that the only New Zealand plane produced commercially in any numbers is the Starkie, a fibreboard plane, although I have only seen one in a box. According to the pamphlet inside that Starkie’s flimsy grey cardboard box, the plane was made by DH Henry and Co, 12–14 Nelson Street, Auckland — just a block or two away from the offices of The Shed, amongst the high-rises of downtown Auckland.
Repairs reduce value
One result of the relatively high cost of tools is that many tradesmen would repair a broken tool rather than replace it. Woodworking planes or spokeshaves made of cast iron can be easily damaged when they fall even short distances onto a hard surface, and I have seen several which have been repaired by brazing.
Today, a repaired tool is virtually worthless. Tool collectors have to be very careful that the tools they buy haven’t been repaired or modified.
Another result of costly tools was that skilled tradespeople would make a copy of an imported tool, usually at their place of work. Versions of items from Stanley’s extensive pre-WWII catalogue cast in brass or gunmetal rather than cast iron turn up on
Internet auctions. It is rumoured that these may have been produced in New Zealand Railways’ long-gone giant railway workshops, where many skilled craftsmen used to work and where the tools made would have proved useful.
Decades ago I saw an older carpenter, hired to install shelves in the government department where I was working, using a ‘granny’s tooth’ router he had made. He told me he had cut out the base from about a 12mm steel plate with a hacksaw and drill and had used wooden door handles as the two grips. The cutters were Stanley ones he had purchased from the company’s spares department. It worked just fine, too.
Another result of costly tools was that skilled tradespeople would make a copy of an imported tool
My tools
I own several tradesman-made tools. I have a couple of simply-made routers and a copy of a Stanley 45 multiplane, all made from steel plate cut and welded. The multiplane has a genuine Stanley blade holder. Perhaps the original owner had broken the castiron body of his 45 and fabricated a new body to replace it, incorporating the unbroken part. Regrettably, the 40 or so cutters supplied with Stanley 45s didn’t come with my hybrid.
I also have a ‘bending beam’ torque wrench that was made by motor-engineering apprentices at Christchurch Polytech — now called Ara Institute — as part of their training. The torque wrench is well made, but the marking of the calibrations seems rather rushed. I have seen another that was unfinished; perhaps time was short at the end of these courses.
I have recently bought locally a Starrett 435A Vernier caliper, with quite beautifully engraved 1/100 inch markings. It has had one of the jaws cut off, with a complex-shaped replacement silver soldered in place. The other jaw has a milled steel addition skilfully riveted to it. There must have been an urgent need to measure the differences in size of similar, irregularly shaped objects to warrant the mutilation of one of Starrett’s particularly nice devices.
Bending spanners
I bought an old Sidchrome spanner because it was a type (Whitworth) that fitted the fastenings on my pre-war British car. The price was drastically reduced because the shaft of the tool had been bent at right angles near one end to enable the spanner’s jaws to access a hard-toreach nut. Some months later I saw the same-sized spanner — this time a Stahlwille — bent in exactly the same way. Evidently, in times past, many motor mechanics in New Zealand had a bent 5/16 Whitworth spanner in their toolbox to work on some popular British car. The Ford 10? Austin Seven?
Evidently, in times past, many motor mechanics in New Zealand had a bent 5/16 Whitworth spanner in their toolbox to work on some popular British car
Pattern-makers make the patterns used in metal foundries. The pattern is often made of wood, the shape pressed into casting-sand and then removed, leaving a void in the sand. Molten metal is poured into the void and, when the metal cools and solidifies, reproduces the pattern in metal — more or less. Pattern-makers are extremely skilled woodworkers and have many specialized techniques and tools, including planes with rounded soles and cutters to match. A full set of pattern-maker’s curved sole planes would be expensive, so varieties with a set of replaceable soles are available. The example shown here was started by a pattern-maker who cast the body in aluminium and had begun to fashion the various wooden soles with different radii with cutters to match. The unsophisticated cutter retainer — a wooden wedge — made depth of cut adjustment time-consuming and resulted in the maker losing enthusiasm. Only a couple of soles were finished.