A recent article in THISisCarpentry—“Craftsman Style Mantel and Bookcases,” by Brian Cinski Jr.—referenced the book “Building Fireplace Mantels,” by Mario Rodriguez. Brian used this book to replicate a stunning Charles Rennie Mackintosh mantel and bookcase. I was intrigued, and ordered a copy of the book. Inside, I found many great tips, as well as a plethora of techniques I had never imagined. One in particular amazed me: the “sliding dovetail cleat.”

On page 71, the sliding dovetail cleat is shown as a way to hang decorative, non-supportive corbels on a mantel shelf, without the use of visible fasteners. The moment I saw this, I had a “Why didn’t I think of that?!” moment.

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The joint is extremely simple to make. I’m sure it’s been around forever and is used in many applications, but since I’m primarily a finish carpenter, I don’t get to see many shop “woodworking tricks.” But that’s starting to change, now that I’m more open to learning and seeking out new techniques.

It’s also just a matter of trying out a new technique when the opportunity arises. It might be easier and faster to just throw in a nail or screw and be done with it, but there are many advantages to reinforcing your work, especially when it comes to long-term durability.

One thing I’ve learned first-hand, and strongly believe, is that if you always go for what’s easiest, you will never progress past a certain point. This is especially true with finish carpentry. It’s not enough just to read about new techniques—you need to find ways to incorporate them into your work. The more you have in your skill set, the more you’ll have to offer when bidding on a job, or when confronted with a tough situation.

And, besides, it’s just fun using tools!

To set up, you’ll need a dovetail bit, and some extra stock to make the cleat. For my project, I used a 1-in. dovetail bit, but you can use a smaller bit and make the slot any size you want. I like the larger bits, though, because they allow you to get it in one pass or setup.

You will want to use a router table for safety and ease. Set your desired depth. I set mine for 3/4 in. deep, so I could make my cleat out of some 1x stock later.

After you get the bit set up on the router table, it helps to calibrate your fence scale to the bit, so that “0″ is center of the bit. If you don’t have a scale, you can manually set your bit to the right settings. Make a practice pass just to be sure.

The center measurement on your corbel will now translate perfectly to your set scale, so you can set your fence to route the slot in the center of your corbel.

My corbels were cedar, so I was able to make my dovetail slot in one pass at full depth. You may have to make minor adjustments, depending on your corbel material. For hardwoods or other applications, you may need to use a straight cutter that’s the same size as the narrow side or shank of the dovetailing bit—make a few passes to get your slot to depth. Then come in with the dove tail bit at full depth to cut the tapered sides of the slot.

Using a stop block or reference mark on the table will allow you to make sure you don’t cut all the way through the corbel. Stop the bit about 1 in. or so from the face of the corbel. Make sure to use feather boards where you can while making your cuts.

After making the cuts, do not change the depth of your router setting, since we’re not yet done with the router. Slide the fence to “0” (this is where having an adjustable fence is really handy).

Now you’re perfectly in-line with your bit to run some stock through to cut the tapered sides of the cleat. You can manually set this if you want or need to—just run some test pieces and fine-tune your settings until it cuts a perfect “taper to nothing.”

Rip down some 3/4-in. stock on the table saw to exactly the width of the wide end of the dovetail cut. If you need to widen your dovetail slot (for even more holding power), measure the top of the taper and rip your stock to this measurement. Because I used a 1-in. bit for my slot, I ripped some 1x stock exactly 1 in. wide.

Now run the cleat stock through your router table on each side. If you’re set up properly, the dovetailing bit will make a cut that tapers out to nothing. This is what you want.

	Now you can test the fit and make any adjustments needed.
	Mark and cut your cleats to length. They should fit snugly!

Find the center of where your corbels will go, and mount the cleat to your shelf with some screws. Be aware of which side is up when mounting the cleats. I put mine upside down the first time.

Now your corbels can slide right up to the mantel shelf, nice and snug.

Glue is optional, unless you want them to be permanent. For some applications it could be handy to have them removable.

Hey look! No unsightly face screws up into the mantel shelf, just my decorative (fake) bolts. I wonder where else I can use this trick!…

Not long ago, Gary Katz and I visited the William Thorsen House in Berkeley, CA. Built in 1909—one year after the Gamble House—the Thorsen House represents the “last of the large and elaborate wooden houses designed by Greene and Greene,” (Edward Bosley), for which Randall Makinson, in his book Greene & Greene: Architecture as a Fine Art, coined the term, “Ultimate Bungalows.”

At the turn of the 20th century, bungalow homes were so common throughout the country that companies like Sears sold bungalow kit homes with everything included—from the tapered columns to the leaded glass cabinet doors. But Henry and Charles Greene took the form to a new height, building several expansive homes for wealthy industrialist clients, including: the Blacker House (1907-1909), the Gamble House (1907-1909), the Pratt House (1908-1911) and the Thorsen House (1908-1910).

As Gary mentioned in his earlier article about Frank Lloyd Wright and Falling Water, architects of the period had recognized the value of horizontal lines in architectural composition as opposed to the vertical lines popular during the heyday of the Victorian period. Architects after the turn of the 20th century focused on designs for comfortable, natural homes that fit—rather than fought—with the environment.

Charles Robert Ashbee, a central figure in the British Arts & Crafts movement, toured America in 1908-1909 and noted that Charles Greene’s work was: “beautiful; among the best there is in this country. Like Lloyd Wright the spell of Japan is upon him, like Lloyd Wright he feels the beauty and makes magic out of the horizontal line, but there is in his work more tenderness, more subtlety, more self-effacement than in Wright’s work, and it is more refined and has more repose” (Bosley, Greene & Greene, p. 140).

And no single word better describes the Thorsen house than “repose.”

The Thorsen House (Note: Click any image to enlarge, hit your browser's "back" button to return to this article.)

Exterior

Ironically, the Thorsen house has stronger vertical lines than any of the Greene’s other Ultimate Bungalows, and that’s because it was designed and built in Berkeley, CA, on a hill, unlike the Greene & Green homes in Pasadena, which were placed on mostly level ground with a horizontal plan. But the Thorsen’s multi-level home sits on a unique corner property, and has an L -shaped plan that climbs up the hill gently, masking it’s size—over 9,000 sq. ft.

Timbered rafter tails with long overhangs and strongly cantilevered porches are distinctive features, but instead of sleeping porches—which the Greenes included on Southern California homes—this colder-climate house was designed with uncovered balconies, though the balconies have since been covered and turned into sleeping areas by the current owners and residents: since 1942, the home has been owned and cared for by the Sigma Phi Society of California.

We were early for our appointment the morning we visited, so Gary and I took our time exploring the front of the house. There are many features that are common to Greene and Greene homes, like the cloud lift design in the window muntins (you’ll see more of that when we go inside for the videos).

A similar pattern is repeated in the basement windows.

The milk delivery door repeats a theme common to the Greenes and to Frank Lloyd Wright—long horizontal head casings.

A small pathway provides access to the back yard. The fraternity has plans for a new garden wall, which will protect their privacy more, but I’m sure they’ll be saving this gate.

I caught Gary on his hands and knees taking a picture of the full-sailed ship in this panel (see photo, left). John Thorsen, William’s father, was born in Norway; although he earned his fortune in the Michigan lumber industry, he always had a close connection to the sea. William shared the same interest; in fact, as we later learned from our tour guide, features in the dining room and living room repeat the same nautical schemes.

Approaching the front steps, we first passed through an inspired iron archway.

Deep steps with low risers lead to the entry door.

The door is decorated with a gnarled grapevine pattern. Vines also form the primary imagery common throughout the Thorsen home. I’ll show you more of that once we get inside the house.

Full-time Maintenance

Before we go inside, I thought all the carpenters reading this article would appreciate seeing the shape the house is in today, and learning a bit about the type of work required to maintain the home. These folks welcome the help of experienced volunteers!

The Greene brothers used Peter Hall as the contractor on this home, just as they had on all of their other Ultimate Bungalows. Hall hired William Isaac Ott to supervise the job, and the workmanship is impeccable. Most of the maintenance issues Gary and I saw could have been avoided if the original carpenters had used different techniques, or if they had some of the great materials we have today—which is a good lesson: we all have something to learn!

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen an exposed ridge beam that has lasted very long without a flashing cap. I suspect the reason this one is still there—or, at least, part of it’s there—is because it was an old growth timber, all heartwood, nearly impervious to moisture—nearly. If you try a detail like this one, cap that baby!

I liked this trellis, a lot. In fact, I might make one for my house. If only the wood had been maintained—a coat of oil every few years might have killed the plants, but it would have saved the trellis.

Here’s what remains of the side yard fence—at least the bottom rail. Notice how the fencing was mortised into the rail! What a job of joinery. And built to last.

Too bad it rains so much up here—moisture got trapped in the mortises, rotting out the tongues. Even though the carpenters tried to avoid that problem by drilling drainage holes in the bottom of each mortise, that wasn’t enough to save the fencing. Maybe a few more holes would have done the trick. I bet if they had had a Domino….

Entry & Living Room

Greene and Greene homes always contain a symbolic thread or device that ties one room to the next: lotuses are a symbolic device in the Blacker house; the “tree of life” is a primary device in the Gamble house, from the front doors to the living room inglenook; and rose and grapevines serve a similar purpose in the Thorsen home. They decorate the frieze in the living room and the frieze in the dining room.

The frieze is broken by intriguing U-shaped brackets, which are secured to the top rail of the paneling with multi-stepped pins. The pins in the corners rest on both walls, while the rose vine continues all the way around the room.

If I were forced to compare them all, I’d say the living room probably contains the most interesting design features in the home. Watch this video, and you’ll see what I mean:

Stairs

Like the main stair in the Gamble house, the Thorsen stair is an eye-catcher, but it is also much different than any other stairway I’ve seen in a Greene and Greene home.

The Thorsen newel posts are the real focal point of this stair; the railing, though it’s massive, and reflects the lift design, is almost secondary.

Though the bottom newel post is more highly decorated, the geometry of the landing newel posts is outstanding. The articulated form of the two posts, joined in the center by a deeply pillowed filler, stopped me cold. That pillowing was also cut into the mid-flight posts. To punctuate the design, the pegs on the posts and the railing alternated from round to rectangular.

If any of you have visited the Gamble House, you probably remember the exaggerated finger joints in the risers. The Greenes repeated the same detail in the Thorsen stair.

• • •

Dining Room

There are several features in the dining room that are worth noting. I’ll start with the fireplace. Mahogany pilasters—cut with reversed pillows or steps—flank the tile surround and support a simple mantelshelf with finger joints at the corners. The wall paneling is also deceptively simple: single panels—which are both tall and wide—frame the fireplace and are divided only above the mantelpiece, in a plumb line with the pilasters below. Small pillowed keys are mortised into the joint between the stiles and rails. A small square molding captures each of the panels; additional interior “stiles,” cut with a lift design, also flank the low panel above the mantelshelf.

The tiles in the fireplace surround are decorated with a periwinkle motif. If the original furniture were still in the house, we’d be able to see that same design repeated through delicate inlays in the chair backs and the dining table. If you want to see want I mean, check out Edward Bosley’s book: Greene & Greene.

Like the living room, the dining room carries the same nautical theme, and is meant to resemble the bow of a ship. In fact, the bay window is bowed over the front of the house. The crown molding—it must be called that even though it’s a simple build-up of flat moldings with eased edges—is broken at every corner by a multi-stepped “figurehead” pendent, which also resembles the bow of a ship.

But the real glory-piece in the dining room is the china cabinet!

Supported by a thick two-knuckled finger-joint, and stepped brackets that extend back into the wall, this piece is a real keeper.

To get a really good look at this cabinet, watch the video!

Rear yard

Nowhere is deferred maintenance more obvious than in the back yard, where the lower sun deck is supported by temporary shoring (see photo, right). The job of rebuilding the bridge and deck will be a costly one. But the art and craft of the home is still alive, even among the recently installed posts and pads. The Greene brothers’ palette of materials included wood, stone, brick, concrete, brass, copper, and hand-forged steel. Rusted collar straps, tightened with driven wedges, accentuate the strength and repose of the Thorsen home.

I’ve been working with my dad for 15 years. In those years, I’ve learned almost everything I know from him. But lately I’ve been picking up some great techniques from the JLC Forums, and they’ve changed the way we work. Yes, they’ve even changed my Dad’s approach to a craft he’s been practicing for over thirty years.

On a recent job, we were asked to install all of the window stool at the same elevation throughout the home, and tie together the stool on adjacent windows. I’ve done this same work before many times, using wooden shims. But that technique has always been frustrating.

Because the shims go in from the front, it’s easy to shim the front of the stool to exactly the elevation you want, but dialing in the rear surface of the stool—so it’s at exact the right elevation, which sometimes means tight up against the window sill—is next to impossible. And if you do manage to get the stool right where you want it, keeping it there is a bear—the stool often slips when you drive in fasteners.

Watching ONE video on the JLC website changed my whole approach to setting window stool. And I owe the whole technique to Frank Caputo. That’s why we have dubbed this technique installing Frank Screws. To see Frank’s video tip, click on this link.

The Frank Screw is a simple trim installation technique. While Frank demonstrated using a laser to set the screws, I only use the laser to check that all the windows are level and set at the same elevation. Then I use a gauge block (often a piece of the molding itself) to set the screws, driving the screw in deeper or backing it out until the top of the molding is at exactly the right elevation. It may sound too simple, but this trick saves us TONS of aggravation and speeds up our productivity on window trim and jamb installations. And trust me, there are many more places you will find to use a Frank Screw.

Continuous Stool

Recently I used this trick on a bank of Andersen Windows that came with supplied dado jambs (the extension jambs fit into a dado in the window frame). I wasn’t able to preassemble the extension frames with the trim attached, which is how I usually installed extension jambs. The trim on this job included tricky entablatures and the casing met in the corners, so we had to install the trim components one piece at a time.

On this job, we took care to install the windows perfectly level. All I needed to worry about was perfect reveal lines. And Frank Screws made that easy. In some places, the stool had to be scribed carefully to the walls, and the screws made it easy to dry fit each piece until it fit just right—without driving in even one temporary tack. I hate unnecessary nail holes!

Frank Screws came in handy especially because the stool was connected in many places.
I used a sample of the WindsorONE classical craftsman stool for my gauge block.

Since the stool is supposed to fit up tight to the interior flange of the window, setting these screws in positions was a piece of cake. I held the sample up in position along the sill flange, and then drove a screw right next to it. I adjusted the depth of each screw so that I could just barely slide the stool in between the top of the screw and the bottom of the sill flange. If the stool is installed separately from the frame, the screw can be left a little high because you can tip the stool into place.

But if the casing is already installed, don’t leave the screws too high or it’s tough to slide the stool in.

That’s it! In less than five minutes, I set three or four screws for each window and was ready to install the stool. Without using any shims, the stool came up tight against the bottoms of all the sills. The last step was driving fasteners up into the casing.

You can imagine how easy the installation was once the screws were installed.

Carpentry can be stressful, especially finish work. I’m always trying to make things perfect on imperfect jobsites. Frank Screws are one of those techniques I depend on to relieve the stress—I don’t have to worry about someone putting weight on the stool and ruining the reveals, I don’t have to spend hours on a job that I never have confidence in. Instead of a dreaded job, this entire installation was actually fun. And of course the windows turned out great.

Thank you Frank Caputo!

——-

AUTHOR BIO

Life has changed a lot for Jesse Wright. Not long ago he spent his free time skateboarding, snowboarding, and scuba diving—a passion both he and his wife enjoyed along the California coast. And then there was the paintball team—serious stuff on military bases with military friends. But all that changed when Olive arrived.

Now fifteen months old, Jesse’s daughter consumes most of his free time, and what remains he spends working on the home he bought last year, his first.

You can tell it’s Jesse’s house from the street, and from all the great photographs he’s published and shared on the JLC Finish Carpentry forum. He’s remodeled the house one room at a time, and outside, one wall at a time, from Craftsman-style tapered casing to eave brackets.

Jesse’s work continues to improve as his study and understanding of architectureal styles broadens. Always hungry for new ideas, Jesse prowls the internet for good books and haunts historic homes, from Pasadena to the Bay Area.