Strangely, in this case, the ‘new thing’ was both old and new, for tangent handrail (once a common vocation) probably hasn’t been practiced, or formally taught, for a couple of generations or more. The challenge was to try to relearn something which was once well known, but is now all but forgotten.

“A variant of the Cylindric method of layout, [the Tangent method] allows for continuous climbing and twisting rails and easings. It was defined from principles set down by architect Peter Nicholson in the 18th century.” (Wikipedia)

So, why would we attempt to use an 18th century system for building handrails? I think it’s fair to say that the majority of stairs being built in America today are still being constructed by small companies, or individual craftsmen who don’t always have six figures to invest in CNC machinery. For those of us who fall into this category (including some fully equipped CNC operators), traditional tangent layout methods are still a viable means for producing continuous and complex hand railing.

The fact remains that the tangent method of laying out and making curved and twisted (wreathed) handrail worked well then, and still works today—you just have to make the effort to learn how. And the effort is worth it. Handrails made with the tangent system are far more beautiful and pleasing than those ‘assembled’ from factory parts.

A traditional 'wreathed' handrail fitting (center) provides a graceful continuous transition compared to the typical methods seen in modern construction (right). Notice how the handrail on the right stops and starts at each change in plane and jerks it’s way up the stair, while the railing in the center ‘flows’ up the stair. Traditional handrail design isn’t just a matter of aesthetics. Close your eyes and imagine your hand sliding down the rail as you descend the stair.

The Class

(Note: Click any image to enlarge)

The Seattle seminar was four days of drafting, and a hands-on workshop. I had come prepared to review and teach nine-to-twelve separate drawings (one for each of the various tangent plan arrangements). What we actually accomplished was two of the drawings and one ‘squared wreath’ for each of us. Some of the guys were able to begin carving the handrail profile (with good results for first-time efforts), but most of our time was spent deciphering the old line system.

We started the first day with an historical overview and introduction to the tangent method, and then proceeded directly to the drafting tables. You can’t do anything without a good drawing. And that will be the focus of this article, too.

Drawing curving handrail is almost more of a challenge than making it, especially since some of the surfaces that must be drawn don’t even exist in reality! But a good drawing is the only way to develop a pattern—called a ‘face mold’—for these custom-made curved and twisting handrail fittings.

What is Tangent Handrail?

Maybe the best way to describe tangent handrail is to describe what it isn’t. There is absolutely no wood bending of any kind, no vertical or horizontal strip-laminating, no steam or chemical forming (or any other means of twisting and torturing wood fibers into submission). The wood (or stone) is simply taken for what it is, and cut and carved to the desired shape. The tangent method simply provides the patterns for accurately accomplishing this work.

What does ‘tangent’ mean?

The first step in understanding the tangent system is understanding what a tangent is! A tangent is simply a straight line that touches the edge of a curve at only one point. It is always perpendicular to a circular arc’s radius. Below is a simple two-dimensional example (“simple” because it only involves a single plane).

Lines that intersect at almost any angle can be used as tangents to create a smooth curving transition. (Click to enlarge)

When using the tangent handrail system, you must visualize a wreath in three dimensions with tangents that intersect in two planes—one that descends the lower flight of stairs, and one that ascends the upper flight of stairs.

With the tangents inclined, a diagonal (or ‘oblique’) slice through the cylinder creates an elliptical shape.

And you must be able to draw that wreath in three dimensions if you want to cut it accurately from a single block of wood.

Before getting to the step-by-step instructions for drawing the pattern (or ‘face mold’) for the wreath, watch the following video, so you’ll have a better overview of the theory behind the drawing process.

A Step-by-Step Drawing

The following drawing steps are used to create a two dimensional representation of the three dimensional ‘box’ that is the foundation for tangent handrailing. This example features a 90 degree turning handrail wreath, with equal pitches. Starting with a drawing of the handrail fitting ‘in plan’ (‘in plan’ means when viewed ‘from above,’ like looking at a floor plan), the required information is projected through elevation to the ‘oblique plane.’ The result produces a ‘face mold,’ which is a detailed template for creating this custom handrail piece.

Step 1: The drawing process starts by drawing two intersecting lines that are perpendicular to one another. One horizontal and one vertical, their intersection is labeled point A.

Step 2: Create a square box to represent the plan view of the handrail by drawing lines parallel to both the horizontal and vertical lines. The distance of the offset is the centerline radius of the handrail turn in plan, 5 inches in this example. Note that the parallel vertical line should also project above the horizontal line.

Step 3: Use a compass to draw the centerline of the handrail’s curve in plan. Point C in the drawing (below) is the center of the arc, and the compass is spread to the predetermined radius distance of 5 inches. With the arc drawn, the tangent and spring lines can be identified.

Step 4: Measure out along the horizontal line from point V (the vertex), using the same radius distance used previously (5 inches) to locate point B1. From this point, use a protractor to draw a pitch line at the angle of the stair pitch, 35 degrees in this example. This creates an elevation view of the three dimensional box being drawn.

Step 5: Use a square to draw a line perpendicular to the pitch line that intersects point V.

Step 6: Locate point Bo by swinging an arc from point Vo, with the compass spread to the distance between Vo and B1.

Step 7: Draw a line originating at point Vo that passes through point Bo to define the inclined tangents.

Step 8: Create the parallelogram that makes up the oblique plane (the lid of the box) by drawing lines from points Ao and Bo that are parallel to the inclined tangents.

Step 9: The next step is to determine the bevel angle for the handrail. This is the angle where the handrail’s profile is ‘twisted’ at each end in order to match the profile of the straight raking rails. Using point V as a center, spread the compass until it touches the intersection of the pitch line and the perpendicular line drawn in step 5, and then swing an arc to the base line.

Step 10: Draw the bevel line by connecting the arc intersection on the base line to point B. This line represents the centerline of the handrail profile.

Step 11: Begin creating a box that will encompass the handrail profile by drawing lines parallel to the bevel line. Since the handrail width in this example is 2 1/2 in., the offset is 1 1/4 in. on each side of the bevel line.

Step 12: Finish the box that surrounds the handrail profile by drawing two lines perpendicular to the bevel line to define the height of the profile. In this example, the handrail profile is 1 3/4 in. tall.

Step 13: To determine the minimum required stock size for the wreath block, enclose the squared profile box with a box that is square to the level base line.

Step 14: With the squared handrail profile determined, it’s time to move back to the oblique plane and the creation of the face mold. The inclined tangent lines that extend outside points Bo and Ao represent the centerline of the ‘shanks,’ or straight sections, on either side of the curved portion of the fitting. The widths of the shanks on the face mold are determined by the squared handrail profile and the bevel angle. Use the distance measured along the base line, from the bevel line intersection to the handrail width line intersection, to offset each side of the shank center line. Finish by squaring off the shanks with a perpendicular line; the shank length is arbitrary.

Step 15: Draw ordinate lines for the plan view and oblique plane by drawing lines connecting points C and V, and points Co and Vo.

Step 16: Draw the inner and outer edges of the handrail in plan by drawing arcs centered on point C, offset from the plan centerline by 1/2 of the handrail’s width on each side. The distance is 1 1/4 in. in this example for the 2 1/2 in. wide handrail.

Step 17: Draw a line parallel to the ordinate line in plan. The distance is arbitrary; it will be used as a benchmark for projecting measurements to the oblique plane.

Step 18: Draw a line from the intersection of the previously drawn parallel ordinate line and the tangent line, parallel to the height line, until it intersects the inclined tangent line above.

Step 19: Transfer the intersection point on the inclined tangent line to the opposite inclined tangent line by using a compass to swing an arc centered on point Vo.

Step 20: Draw lines from both points on the inclined tangent lines that are parallel to the ordinate line of the oblique plane.

Step 21: Begin transferring measurements from plan to the oblique plane. Use the distance along the ordinate line in plan from point V to the handrail’s inner edge (Red) to mark point 1 along the oblique ordinate line from point Vo. Use the distance along the parallel benchmark ordinate line in plan, measured from the tangent line to the handrail’s inner edge (Blue) to mark points 2 and 3 up from the inclined tangents, along the lines drawn parallel to the oblique ordinate.

Step 22: Transfer the handrail widths from plan to the oblique plane. Mark point 4 along the oblique ordinate line measuring down from point 1, which is the handrail width along the ordinate line in plan (Red). Mark points 5 and 6 by using the distance measured from the inner to outer handrail edges along the benchmark ordinate line in plan (Blue).

Step 23: Complete the face mold by using a flexible curve to connect points 1, 2, and 3 to the inner edges of the shanks, and points 4, 5, and 6 to the outer edges of the shanks.

The Face Mold

Now that the drawing is complete we can see and cut out the face mold.

I often paste the face mold drawing onto a 1/4-in. piece of plywood or hardboard so I can easily transfer information from the pattern to the ‘blank’.

The blank is the actual stock from which the wreath is cut. Watch this video and you’ll see how the blank—before it’s shaped—fits on the oblique plane at the top of the drawing:

 Shaping the Wreath

Working to lines drawn directly on the blank, the waste material is first cut away with the bandsaw. Both the rough convex and concave sides of the rail are now revealed and finished up with a spokeshave and rasp, etc.

Molding the Wreath

The actual carving, or shaping, of the handrail profile is a subject in-and-of-itself, and with varying suggested methods (see Mike Kennedy’s article, “Carving a Volute”). Some of these include hand-held routers, grinders and other ways and means. In the distant past, there was little doubt or discussion as to ‘how to do it.’ Every woodworker had to be reasonably good with his hands, and passable or proficient woodcarving was taken for granted.

In most cases, the excess wood was cleared away by hand, and the profile was simply scraped or ‘scratched’ to shape. A simple shop-made tool for accomplishing this task is called a ‘scratch stock,’ and is still a viable tool. Other handy tools (besides the regular set of carving chisels) include: Quirk routers, hand beaders, and special radius molding planes or shaves.

I use a special molding machine, which I designed and had built some years ago. I rarely have to hand carve anymore, but there are times when only hand-work will do. As long as the profiles are fairly simple, and the wood reasonably soft, hand-carving still works well—especially for occasional supplemental stair parts.

Too Complicated?

If all of this sounds way too complicated, I might agree with you, except for the fact that I have been doing this, myself, for many years—and I flunked high school algebra and never completed college. I had to figure all this stuff out on my own, down in the basement of the old Los Angeles County Library. Working from very old, brown and brittle ‘reference only books,’ I slowly began to paste it together. Back in the 1970s and ’80s there was absolutely no one to talk to about this stuff, except for a few dead authors like Riddell, Monkton and Ellis. There weren’t any books in print on the subject, and, of course, no Google. Anyway, I suppose if I can do it, so can you.

How long does it take?

A complete set of drawings and templates can take a couple of hours or more—sometimes a full day. But for a single part, I am often done in an hour. After that, it’s out to the workshop to cut wood. The cutting and squaring of a typical wreath piece can take two or three hours, and the machine carving will add, perhaps, another hour. In short, most individual parts are completed within a day, and sometimes before noon. If I have to do any hand carving, it’s usually another full day or so. It is certainly possible to expend a full week on a custom volute.

Why should anyone go to the trouble?

Not everyone should go to the trouble. It is difficult. It is time-consuming. And despite the title of the book, A Simplified Guide to Custom Stairbuilding and Tangent Handrailing, there is absolutely nothing ‘simple’ about it. That said, tangent handrail, or handrail cut from solid stock, does have some very definite advantages when viewed in comparison with today’s typical laminated handrail:

• Handrail cut from solid stock is not subject to bending limitations or restrictions, such as small radii or steep pitches.

• Solid rail does not spring-back, unwind, or de-lam.

• Solid rail has no visible, stripped glue-line issues.

• Natural wood grains and textures are left intact and prominently featured.

• Handrail segments cut from tangent lay-out methods are able to negotiate changes in direction and pitch with predetermined, graceful curves.

• A tangent layout yields the pattern and required dimensions to cut a wreathed rail from the minimum amount of stock without ‘guess work’.

• Difficult handrail butt-joints are pre-cut on the bench and usually square to the plank before the wreath is formed.

There are other advantages, too, but there are also some limitations (you’re not, for example, going to be able to cut a 24-in. piece of curved rail from a single board). Perhaps the greatest single advantage is the ability to produce a product which your local competitor can’t. This can translate into more work, and more money for your work! It can also place your company within a class of clientele who demand custom work and are willing and able to pay a premium for it.

• • •

Appreciation (rather than a bio)

I hesitate to mention any names, but I’d like to acknowledge a few of the guys who attended the class; without their help, the class, and this article, might not have been possible:

Billy, who booked us a room in a hostel (what’s a hostel?). I don’t know, but there were four of us on two bunk beds in a room no bigger than a condo kitchen. This was great fun!

Josh, who drove us all around in his monster pickup truck, complete with camper shell and lumber rack, and learned the hard way that it really doesn’t fit in the airport parking structure!

Mike, who always asked the best questions, and fixed his own wreath after I nearly wrecked it on the band saw.

Troy, Kyle and Doug, who figured out most of this on their own before coming to class (I know they’ll do well).

Steve, who sat quietly at his computer most of the time, and then went back and did something neat on his CNC.

Al, who drove me to the airport (he’s smarter than most of us, I think).

Brad, who really is smarter than all of us.

Drew, who finally drew it correctly.

Lavrans, who bought more than a round or two.

Dave, who kept me company.

Katz, who documented the whole mess, and continues to publish Pulitzer Prize-winning pieces like this one.

Todd Murdock, for the killer SketchUp drawings (he wasn’t at the class, but he did a lot of great work on this article!).

And Keith, who just furnished me the menu (“These were all produced by tenants in my catering kitchen”):

Wed. – Chinese Dim Sum

Thurs. - Salvadoran Chicken, corn salsa, rice and salad

Fri. – Ethiopian chicken, beef, goat, salad, mango & avocado drink

Sat. - tamales with rice & beans

Sun. – Northern Mexican tacos, sopitos, quesadilla, carrot cake, and Mexican tea cookies.

Who can top that?

Sometimes it’s the little jobs that allow us to flex our ingenuity muscle more than the big jobs.

(Click on any image to enlarge)

We were just finishing up a bit of messy work on some foundation waterproofing for a client when they mentioned that they were also getting some leaks into the gable end of their attic. I looked up at the 35-foot-tall brick gable-end wall and could barely see the ratty wooden vent from below, but it seemed like the likely culprit.

While we were eager for some cleaner work, I knew repairing this puppy from the outside would be no picnic. So I said, “Let’s take a look in the attic and see what we can do.”

From inside the attic it was easy to see that the brick and block of the gable end were run up around the form of a combination circular/orthogonal vent. This was typical new construction. Installing retrofit pieces would pose a geometric puzzle. The simplest solution to this puzzle would involve cellular PVC, Festool dominoes, Kreg pocket screws, and (best of all) no ladders.

Here’s how we went about it.

Studying the old unit for replication and improvements

The original unit (see photo, right) practically crumbled out of its existing masonry opening. Demo from the inside was a piece of cake, and we brought the unit back to the shop. I measured the outside diameter at exactly 28 in.

This turns out to be a fairly stock unit, and is still widely available, but it’s built mostly from finger-jointed sugar pine. I wanted our new vent to last much longer than the original, yet I felt obligated to match all outside and visible profiles exactly—after all, this was an historic district.

The one small concession I made to changing the outside look of the original vent was adding one extra louver, which helped prevent windblown storm rain from bouncing inside the attic. No one from the neighborhood could possibly pick up this ‘before and after’ change; they’d have to have one heck of a visual memory!

New materials and tools allow better ingenuity

The solution I came up with in order to improve the durability of the new vent, and work a finished installation from the inside, consisted primarily of four key design aspects:

1. Building two frames on the inside of the radius work, whereas the original only had one. This would allow for a secondary louvered rectangular assembly to nest inside a primary rectangular frame. Since the primary frame could be locked together securely to the exterior brick mold with a few stainless steel pocket screws from the inside, this solved the geometric puzzle of fitting two different shapes into two different existing masonry openings. A secondary panel was the only way to avoid the problem of fitting louvers into the primary frame on-site. This would have been more troublesome than in a shop, and probably would have involved touch-up paint and caulk from the outside on a 40-ft. ladder.

2. Improving drainage to secondary louvered frame panel by fitting flashing ‘blocks’ or ‘diverters’ between the lower half of the vent slats, which allows rain to drain quickly toward the exterior. The need to install flashing blocks was another reason I didn’t want to fit louvers in the primary frame on-site.

3. Constructing everything from cellular PVC, due to its workability and weather-resistant  characteristics. Also, the quick set times of PVC glue allowed us to speed up the process of millwork, and gave us very strong and reliable bonds in our laminations and joints.

4. Installing a replaceable screen to the primary frame, thereby allowing the secondary frame to be captured and ‘float’ within its nesting place without mechanical fasteners or glue. Having southern exposure, I felt the more massive secondary PVC louvered frame of this vent could potentially expand and contract much differently from the primary frame. I didn’t want it transferring stress to the primary radius work and/or stress the caulk seals. I felt a snug secondary frame fit and an overlapping screen lock were the best choice for this situation.

Getting to work in the shop; radius and primary frame work

A screw is nothing more than a helical clamp. These "mini clamps" allowed us to work from the top side, without having to get under the board with bar clamps.

We started by working off of a scrap of 3/4-in. AC plywood. This provided a good sacrificial base upon which we could fasten multiple layers of PVC flat stock, all with mitered corners. The plywood base was large enough to accommodate the complete width of the finished radius profile.

The brick mold thickness was built up from laminations of 1/2-in.-thick stock on top of 3/4-in.-thick stock with off-set joints. We used regular PVC glue to laminate the layers and Festool dominoes to reinforce the joints. Layers were clamped tightly together using screws that were placed outside the profile and into the sacrificial base (see photo, right).

We placed dominoes in areas that would be buried in the finished brick mold profile, which meant they would not be exposed or ‘revealed’ during the milling phase.

Finally, we padded up our center trammel point with plywood scraps to be flush with the top layer, and worked our router from outside in, and top down.

The sacrificial base allowed us to rout the profile all the way through without cutting into our workbench. There was a 3/4-in. brick mold backer that was routed separately, glued (with PVC glue), and clamped to the brick mold profile, to give full profile to the inside radius. It was roughed-out from an octagonal glue-up (again with dominoes at joints).

Since this backer had to fit and register inside the back of the louvered outer frame, it was not the full outside radius. This was one of the trickier parts to make and attach. Again, to avoid on-site fitting, I used the old vent as a pattern, because we knew that fit!

Here is the brick mold glue-up prior to routing and surfacing. The routing process was all done with the center trammel point. We had four main cutting planes to achieve, and they were easily worked out in multiple passes with two different profile bits.

The final 3/4-in. backer molding is cut to the inside radius size. Here the brick mold is just laying on top. I glued on the backer after cutting it to size. The outside radius was just trimmed with a flush bearing bit wherever it projected beyond the brick mold. The backer did not need to be a perfect edge along the outside of the brick mold since it had to be trimmed to rectangular frame-size later. In fact, you can see a section missing near my thumb.

Secondary louvered frame

While I worked radius profiles, my helper milled the PVC stock to size, and assembled the secondary louvered frame. All frame and louver components were glued with PVC glue and/or pocket screwed with stainless steel pocket screws. There were no components that would prematurely rust or rot.

Since the inside louver shape is bigger than the circular brick mold, rain water can get behind the perimeter edge at the lower half of louver. In fact, frequent water penetration on the old unit led to its failure. To improve the design, I glued filler blocks between the fins just on the outside edge of radius (and out of view). This serves to divert water down to next lower fin.

I shaved down the excess filler easily with my FEIN multi-master, and sanded it smooth. All water now drains by gravity down to the bottom of the circular trim and vacates at the exterior brick face of the building’s envelope.

Had this new louvered piece been made from wood, I would not have been so confident installing wood ‘deflection’ blocks in this manner, due to the effects of wood fiber expansion and contraction, resulting in stress across the glue joint. However, only having to overcome limited thermal expansion and contraction stress across the glue joint, I felt PVC was a good choice for a detail like this.

You will later see the ‘notch’ in the exterior brick molding that serves as the final evacuation point for any accumulating moisture on the bottom of the brick molding.

Finishing up in the shop

In the photo to the right, you can see all three components of the louvered vent, as a bird would see it from the outside. Note the ‘diverter’ blocks on the vent panel (in back) and drain notches on the bottom of the primary circular brick mold unit. More on the drain notches below.

We painted the finished components (only exterior exposed surfaces) in the shop with three coats of quality exterior latex acrylic paint (Sherwin Williams “Duration”) using High Volume/Low Pressure (HVLP) spray equipment. Spraying is faster, and gives a very even coat; particularly on material like PVC, which doesn’t soak up a paint film like wood, and can often show brush marks.

Some may note that milled PVC is a rougher surface when you expose interior ‘grain’ through the milling process. For this project, where the finished piece is thirty-five feet in the air, we felt nobody would notice; plus, we felt the roughness allowed a better mechanical bond for the paint. If we wanted a smoother finish (say, for a more visible condition) we would have used a couple coats of primer and sanded between coats (in order to fill low spots of pours), and then sprayed the finish coats.

Installing On-site

Since we previously pulled the old unit into the shop to use as a reference model, we only had to remove a temporary plywood panel from the rough opening before installing our new, three-stage unit.

The nesting detail is what made this whole thing workable from inside the attic. The inside frame was pocket-screwed with eight stainless steel screws to the outside circular brick mold. I used a close pair of stainless steel pocket screws (rather than a single at each location) to provide another level of security and insurance, preventing the radius work from ever wanting to jump out of the hole and leave home. Because of the different geometry within the planes of exposed brick and rough block, these screws lock the whole assembly in the hole mechanically and geometrically.

The outside radius was fully caulked and sealed to the brick with matching exterior grade caulk. This may look like I climbed a ladder and took this shot, but I was not that brave. This was about 35 feet off the ground, and since I designed this thing to be installed without taking that risk, I merely stuck my camera outside and shot back towards the work.

In the image to the left, you can clearly see the drain notches on the molding I talked about earlier. The notches allow any accumulating water on the bottom apex of the brick mold to easily drain to the outside. Even though PVC won’t rot, I like this detail—a little extra insurance on the longevity of the unit.

Next, I installed the secondary louvered frame, which fits perfectly inside the primary frame, and is screwed to the exterior circular brick mold.

Next, I just tapped the secondary frame home—no screws necessary. Additionally, the unit can expand and contract separately from the outer frame and the attached brick mold, with a fiberglass mesh screen keeping it secured from ever drifting inward toward the attic. It can’t go anywhere.

Here is detail of the fiberglass screen fit to the inside of the vent to keep the insects out of the attic. Saw kerfs (dadoes) were made around the inside edge of the primary frame (simple table saw cut during the shop phase). These kerfs accepted rubber screen retaining beads, so that the screen could be easily replaced should it get clogged up with airborne dust and pollen over time.

Below, you can see the freshly re-mortared primary frame within the rough block opening. There is no way rain water can get inside this well-detailed vent. I also suspect that it will remain this way for a very, very long time.

I can tell you that the clients were very pleased with us fixing this annoying leak in their attic with a quality solution. And we were pleased to safely walk away from this job without ever having to scale our 40-ft. ladder.

• • •

AUTOBIO

I began my building career apprenticing for a master carpenter at age 14. This was after school hours, remodeling homes in historic Clifton, Va. I can still remember my first project—a lattice surround for an air conditioning condenser. Not the most glamorous project; but a nice start. I think my mentor, Louis McFatridge, thought it was a good (and safe) idea to test me on something outside, and seemingly inconsequential. However, since the condenser was on the home’s approach (thus the lattice), I knew all guests would see it. So I took the opportunity (and my mentor’s best chisels) and set out to make it the best lattice surround I could fabricate with my limited skills and knowledge. It was not a masterpiece, but it must’ve turned out pretty darn well because I stayed on with him during the next four summers, up until college. Even during college I got on with any framing or trim crew I could find that would hire me, during holiday breaks and summer recesses. As a designer, this early, and regular, hands-on experience proved invaluable.

I love the design-and-build process, and never consider anything completely perfect. It can always be better. In fact, I earned my bachelors of Architecture degree at Virginia Tech specifically to become a better builder. I started my own design/build company, Vice Versa Builders, in 1993. We specialize in residential remodeling.

I have been truly blessed to be able to do what I love, and love what I do. For me, architecture is problem-solving, with an artistic mindset. Masterpieces are achieved through classical and romantic building elements, living (and aging) in harmony. I always try to keep in mind the advice I give my clients: “Every good solution is preceded by a well defined problem.” Since remodeling problems are usually unique, my goal is to learn, define, and study the specific problems. Then I look to frame the building solution within a harmonic construct that strives for architectural perfection. After 30 years, I’ve been at it quite a while now, and I’m still looking to achieve my architectural masterpiece in every project I take on.

Five or six years later, I was glad when the custom home business came back with a roar. But I wouldn’t trade what I learned from those 200-plus unit buildings, not a bit of it. Our approach to every high-end custom job—from the big ones to the little ones, and our profit margins—still depends on the lessons learned from production work. And installing closet shelving is a perfect example.

When it comes to installing closet shelving, if your crew isn’t following a manual of practice—a system that simplifies repetitive tasks, eliminates needless steps, and speeds installation time—then you’ll never enjoy the profits that can be made in closets. Once the exterior doors are in, before installing any interior doors or trim, we like to get the closet shelving in place, if it’s paintgrade. It’s just easier to work in a closet without the doors in the way, and besides, that way we don’t have to worry about banging shelving into new doors. We wait to install the baseboard until all the shelving is in, too, because the baseboard has to be cut around the dividers.

Closet Design

Laying out and installing closet shelving used to be simple—you just installed a single shelf and pole in every closet, about 66 in. from the floor, so a dress wouldn’t drag on the carpet. Maybe people didn’t have so many clothes back then.

Today, closet design is an important part of construction, but designing closet shelving doesn’t have to be a brain-twister. Though closets seem to come in many different sizes and shapes, they’re actually limited to only two basic types: walk-in closets, and reach-in closets.

Control Closet Design

(Click any image to enlarge.)

No matter how high-end a home, the closets always share a lot in common—at least the ones outside the master bedroom. After all, there are only so many possible configurations. The three most common types of shelving arrangements are (see image, above): Double Pole, Single Pole, and Linen Shelves. We try to include a little of each in every closet, and we use 15 1/2 in. dividers to separate and help support the shelving.

To allow enough room for medium-length coats and shirttails, Double Pole should be spaced a minimum of 40 in. from the floor, and 40 in. apart. That puts the top of the 1×4 cleats at 42 in. and 84 in. from the floor (see image, below). We angle-cut our dividers, leaving a 1-in. toe on the floor, so it’s easier to get a vacuum near the wall. Whether the customer wants wood, melamine, or MDF shelving, we limit the span—anything over 34 in. will sag without a support.

Single Pole is meant for dresses and long coats. It must be installed at least 66 in. from the floor, farther for tall clients. To secure the pole and the rosettes, we use 1×4 cleats to support all closet poles. For linen shelving, we use 1×2 cleats.

This shelving arrangement is a catchall—it’s not meant just for bedding: shirts, sweaters, sports clothing, and even toys will end up on these shelves. To keep closets uniform and easier to install, we keep to the same layout—12 in. on center for all but the bottom two shelves.

Blankets and boxes need more space, so we put the first linen shelf at 18 in. from the floor, and the second one 15 in. higher, for boots or tall toys.

The top shelf is usually above the door header, which means that, in a 24-in. deep closet, it’s tough to get anything up there.

Even though the dividers are 15 1/2 in. deep (so they’ll support the poles!), we install a 12 in. top shelf, and radius or angle-cut the tops of the dividers.

These simple design rules apply to even the most complicated closets, from reach-ins, like the one in the previous illustrations, to elaborate walk-ins, like the one below. Just remember one thing whenever you turn a corner with shelving: All closet poles require a minimum 24 in. clearance before the next divider, otherwise there won’t be enough room to slide clothes into the corner.

Walk-in closets, and long reach-ins, pose a problem when it comes to shelves sagging, too. The best solution is another design strategy: eliminate mid-span supports on linen shelves by limiting their span to 32 in., then let the closet poles run longer. After all, metal supports for single and double pole are easy to install, but installing supports for linen shelving isn’t so easy, and there are a lot more shelves!

A not-so-simple story pole

Obviously, the trick to making money in closet organizers is being organized yourself, and that starts with the design. Once you’ve controlled and simplified the design, control and simplify the layout and installation, too—teach your crew how to make and use a story pole for every job.

It’s a fact of life: the more times your carpenters pull out a tape measure, the more mistakes they’ll make, the slower they’ll work, and the less profit they’ll produce. There’s hardly a carpentry layout task that doesn’t benefit from the use of a story pole.

Make closet story poles from a piece of durable 1×4, and don’t just pencil the marks—cut notches so the pole can be used from job to job.

Make all the notches at the top of the support cleats, except the top cleat! Instead, cut the story pole 3 1/2 in. short, so the mark for the top shelf—made by striking a pencil across the top of the story pole—will be at the bottom of the cleat; that way, your carpenter won’t have to climb a ladder to see the top shelf mark.

With good design control and a story pole, a single carpenter can lay out all the closets in a typical home in less than one hour, and even make a cut list, too. Whenever possible, we try to keep linen shelves the same width, so they can be cut in packages. The same with Double Pole arrangements, especially if there are several closets of roughly the same size. That way, only one special measurement needs to be made in each closet. But I’ll save that subject for another day.

Important Closet Requirements

Single Shelf-and-Pole: To accommodate long coats and dresses, a section of Single Shelf-and-Pole should be installed in every closet (closets for children are often an exception). To keep dresses and coats from dragging on the floor, install Single Shelf-and-Pole at least 66 in. from the floor—take the measurement from the bottom of the shelf (that puts the pole at about 64 in. from the floor). For exceptionally tall people, increase the height to keep long clothes off the floor.

Double Pole: If pants are folded over a hanger, they only need half the hanging height as a long dress—about 34 in. from the bottom of the shelf to the floor. Shirts are longer and require 40 in. from the bottom of the shelf. Because most of the clothes in our closets today are pants and shirts, Double Shelf-and-Pole should predominate in every closet, which doubles the storage space. To make the job of installing shelves easier and to allow homeowners the choice of changing the arrangement of their clothes, I separate all Double Poles by 42 in., which makes the top shelf 84 in. from the floor.

The Top Shelf: The top shelf should run completely across the closet, and around all three walls in a u-shaped closet, so the same 84-in. height determines the second or top shelf over a Single Shelf-and-Pole, too (see diagram, above). In most 8-ft. closets, 12 in. of space remains between the top shelf and the ceiling, which is enough room for shoe boxes, hat boxes and other storage.

Sweater Shelves: A typical bank of sweater shelves should begin 16 in. from the floor, which allows room for tall boots on the floor. Succeeding shelves should be spaced about 12 in. apart. If the top shelf is installed at 84 in. from the floor, this sweater shelf arrangement should result in a somewhat even spacing.

Shoe Shelves: Shoes only require about 7 in. of height (that includes high-tops and pumps). To get the most from your closet space, design shelving specifically for shoes and don’t rely on 12-in.-spaced shelves for shoe storage. An 84-in. tall bank of shelves, with the first shelf 16 in. from the floor, can include 4 shoe shelves and 3 sweater shelves (see diagram). Of course, if there’s room, and you’re expecting a lot of shoes, build an entire bank of shoe shelves.

The only shelf in a closet that won’t align horizontally with other shelves is the Single Shelf-and-Pole, because it’s set at 68 in. from the floor. The 16-in. space between the Single Shelf-and-Pole and the top shelf can be divided again by an additional shelf, which creates a perfect location for a few pairs of shoes.

(This article originally appeared on GaryMKatz.com)

The mantel I did for another couple. The clients saw it and wanted something similar.

I suggested they take a look through my website for some inspiration, and, if nothing came of that, to look through some magazines for some ideas we could expand upon. Perusing my website, the client’s wife fell in love with a painted mantel I had completed for another couple some time before (see photo, right).

The new clients wanted their mantel to be made from cherry, and stained similar to the island in their kitchen. The kitchen was predominantly white with a stained island.

(Note: Click any image to enlarge)

The mantel I did for that other couple has some Greek attributes to it, and is very detailed. That design wouldn’t work for this project, because the original mantel was too tall to fit this new installation. So I went back to the drawing board and came up with a new design using all the same details (see drawing, left).

After playing the numbers game with the dimensions, I finally had something that looked good and would fit into the designated area. Because there were to be cabinets on either side, I made a rendering of the cabinets with a “Plain Jane” mantel. This rendering was made using eCabinet Systems.

Construction

The biggest challenge for me was the rope. On the original mantel the rope was real—I made curved grooves with a 1/2-in. core box bit, then laid in the rope molding and glued it down. A little primer, some paint, and it was a done deal. But with this mantel, I needed it to look like stained cherry. So I went on a quest to find a flexible rope molding that was stainable.

I hit the Internet, and found a company called Zago, out of New Jersey. They make resin moldings that are flexible and stainable—perfect. I ordered 12 feet. When it arrived, the experimenting began. I made some samples and stained them with Traditional Cherry stain. It didn’t take long to get a good sample—first try, actually. This flexible molding was just the ticket I was looking for.

The first thing I needed to make was the base (or “backboard”) that all of the moldings would sit on. I made the base from solid cherry. I designed it so there would be no joints showing. The boards were jointed together using biscuits, pocket screws, and glue. This was the layout I used:

The backboard must be laid out carefully, so that the moldings, which are applied later, will cover every joint, making the backboard appear like a solid substrate. After gluing up the backboard and sanding it down, I started placing the moldings, beginning at the bottom of the pilasters.

The first detail I applied was the plinth blocks. Simple structures—just a board sized to 15/16 x 7 3/8 x 8, glued down and screwed from the rear. The next molding was the plinth block bead—the torus molding. Again, a simple detail: a 1/2-in. bullnose on three sides of a 15/16 x 1/2 x 7 3/8 piece made with a router.

Next, I installed the panel frame. There are four panels: two uppers and two lowers. The lower panels are long, and the uppers are short. The panels are made from 13/16-in. thick strips 1 in. wide. The inside edge has a French Provincial profile on it. The box is made by mitering four corners together and then gluing. After the panels are made, the lower panels are glued and screwed onto the backboard above and resting on top of the 1/2-in. bead.

The Greek Fretwork

Next comes the Greek fretwork molding. This molding looks more complicated than it really is. To make the molding, you just need a table saw dado setup. The molding is 1 1/2 in. wide and 1/2 in. thick. The “teeth” are 1/2-in. x 1/2-in. I setup the dado to be 1/2 in. high and 1/2 in. wide. To speed up the process, I put two pieces of 1/2-in. stock together, face-to-face, and pushed them through using a miter gauge. The actual dimensions were a bit less then 1/2 in.—.480 in. wide, so I moved the fence .960 for each pair of cuts. I flipped the two pieces over, cutting both the top and the bottom teeth, before resetting the fence for the next pair.

Some readers might be thinking: “Wow! That’s a lot of very accurate fence moving. Why didn’t you make an indexing jig on a miter gauge, the way you would for cutting finger joints?” Well, the answer is simple. I needed the teeth to line up perfectly on both sides, which meant the distance between each cut had to be .960, exactly. So I used my Wixey digital fence gauge to move the fence precisely the right amount for each tooth. I have Wixey digital equipment on both my planer and my table saw. I also use their angle finder, calipers, and digital height gauge. Those tools have changed the way I do things in the shop. Most of the time, setups are done perfectly on the first try! No fine-tuning nonsense.

To complete the fretwork, I capped the top and bottom with cove molding. I first set the fretwork on top of a temporary gauge strip, to get the correct height, then mitered the cove molding across the top and bottom, securing everything with glue and nails.

The smaller upper frames that decorate the end block area were placed on top of the cove molding. And above those frames I added backing for the ovolo, dentil, and crown molding. I milled two pieces of 13/16-in. birch, which flushed out perfectly with the panel frames. After that, I was ready to complete the moldings that ran across the face of the mantelpiece.

Ovolo molding

First, I installed an ovolo molding, which I cut with a router bit. Some people call it a “quarter round,” but it’s really elliptical-shaped and has a lot more beauty than a radius molding.

Next came the dentil molding. To make the dentil molding proud of the ovolo, I first installed a 3/8-in. thick piece of MDF at the same height as the dentil molding. I cut the dentil molding myself, using the dado blade in my table saw, which enabled me to space the dentil blocks so that they fell short of the edge of the backing by 1/16 in.

Above the dentil molding I installed another piece of backing, this time stain-grade because it would be visible beneath the crown. Again, I maintained steps or transitions between each layer by increasing the width of every piece—for this layer I milled flat stock to be 1/16 in. proud of the dentil molding. The ogee molding went on next, and finally another piece of flat stock, which forms the foundation of the reeded corona.

The Reeding

The next set of operations was simple, but daunting—the reeds. There are 218 reeds in this mantel. I made them two-at-a-time with a router table, a 3/8-in. beading bit setup, and a fence using three pieces of wide stock.

I started by routing a profile on the end grain of each piece and on both sides. Next, I ripped off the reeds with a table saw set to 3/8 in. I repeated the same process until the boards were too small to handle, then started in on a new board. I finally ended up with a pile of reeds profiled on three sides—the face and two ends. I milled up about 120 of these. Finally, I cut the reeds to length—getting two pieces out of each reed.

I sized the length of the reeds 1/8 in. longer than the height of the mantel shelf corona, which created a nice shadow effect—the way a corona should be designed. I did several tests to make sure the reeds fit properly inside the space between the two pilaster ends, but in the end, luck was with me. Besides, with that many pieces, a difference of a few thousandths of an inch could add up pretty quick, so why bother with math? I knew I could always shave a few with a hand plane to work out any problems.

The Mantel Shelf

By now, you’re probably noticing the rope molding in the photographs. Yes, I tacked that in place using a few 23ga pins. I needed the rope molding in place in order to see the whole picture and take other measurements. But before I get to the rope molding layout, let’s finish the mantel shelf.

The mantel shelf needed to jog around the pilaster end blocks and follow the line of the corona. But I didn’t want to apply delicate moldings to the nosing of the shelf. Instead, I cut the shelf to size and routed an ovolo profile right on the edge.

I started with a properly sized cherry blank, allowing for a proportionate overhang. I cut the notches for the end blocks on my table saw, then finished the cuts with a jigsaw. After cleaning up the edge, and making sure it was straight and square, I ran the ovolo router bit around the two ends, and then the front, with the router resting on the bottom of the mantel shelf.

Because I used a router bit, the inside corners were rounded (see photo above). I squared up these corners with a 3/4-in. chisel, two different curved gouges, and my trusty utility knife. The two corners took about 25 minutes to clean up. After that, I sanded them and removed all the knife marks.

I attached the mantel shelf with pocket screws fastened through the back of the backboard, and with a good glue line on top of the corona moldings. I used Titebond II and a lot of squeeze clamps to apply good pressure all the way around the shelf.

Reeds, Rope, & Tassels

Now the real excitement began—sort of. It was a Sunday afternoon. I had nothing else to do. I was bored. The perfect time to glue 218 reeds on the mantel, a task I had not been looking forward to for good reason—it took over four hours to do. Each read needed three drops of glue: one drop of 2P-10 and two drops of Titebond! Next, I wiped the 2P-10 accelerator onto the flat stock, and then set each individual reed in place. 218 reeds. 654 drops of glue.

But the end result was definitely worth every drop of glue.

Next, I removed the swagged rope molding and reinstalled it permanently with glue. First, I made a cardboard template, so that each of the swags would be identical, then I wrapped the molding around the template and fastened it with glue and 23ga pins. Because the material was thin, I worried that the wet glue might cause it to warp before the glue set. I didn’t want to fire a hundred pins through the delicate molding, so I set a piece of MDF across the top of the moldings and clamped it down until the glue dried thoroughly. While the glue was drying, I set up to cut the tassels that capped the top and bottom of the rope molding.

Like punctuation in a sentence, the tassels are a necessary element to the overall composition; they do not diminish the design; in fact, they add clarity to the whole mantelpiece. Fortunately, they are deceptively simple to make. Everything is done on the table saw with a dado blade setup.

I took a short length of cherry that was 3/8 in. thick and 9/16 in. wide. I set my dado for a .355-in. wide cut. I set the angle to 14º and raised the blade so the dado took off nothing at the bottom of the cut, but the point of the angle would retain full thickness/width.

I used a miter gauge with a backup board to prevent blowout. I cut the dados in a sequence that would remove the tear-out from previous cuts. The first of three cuts had the piece of cherry with the back facing towards the dado; the second cut was with the back facing up; and the final cut was with the back facing the miter gauge. I flipped my cherry stick over to the other end and then did the three cuts again. I repeated that to about 6 sticks, so I would have plenty of the tassels. Then I moved the fence over .355″ and repeated the process. I did this until I had a dozen tassel layers on each side of each stick, then I cut the sticks in half and worked with those lengths.

Then I cut pieces from these lengths to fit each of the peaks and low-points of the swagged rope molding.

Like I said, the rope molding would have been incomplete without the tassels.

The Overmantel Panel

This mantelpiece has two stories, the second story being the overmantel panel. I made a simple flat recessed panel with a quirk-and-bead design. I used solid stock for the stiles and rails, assembled with pocket screws. I routed a rabbet in the back of the stiles and rails for a 1/4 in. flat panel, and then added the bead molding afterward—mitering the inside corners.

Once the panel was completed, everything went into the spray room.

I taped off the rope molding so that it wouldn’t be conditioned along with the cherry. I used a clear stain base to condition the cherry and prevent blotching—cherry is infamous for blotching. The clear stain or conditioner soaks the wood fibers, which stops them from absorbing the final stain unevenly.

After a sealer and two top coats of clear finish, the mantel was ready for installation.

Installation

The day finally came and I transported the mantelpiece—in two completed pieces—to the customer’s home.

We prepared the area and set the mantle on sawhorses. We joined the overmantel frame to the mantle by screwing through the bottom of the mantle (on the back side, hidden) into the overmantel, attaching the overmantel panel to the top back edge of the mantle. After the two were joined, we attached a 6-in. wide x 9-ft. tall piece of 1/4-in. solid cherry to the backside of the mantle, from floor to ceiling, using screws, one panel on each side of the mantelpiece. Those 1/4-in. panels covered the bare wall from the mantelpiece to the bookcases.

We had to cut several holes for electrical and the HDTV system. To ensure there were no mistakes, I setup a laser on one electrical box, then took measurements from and to the other boxes. Next, I positioned the mantel on the wall and used the projected laser line to mark exact locations on masking tape for each cut.

To secure the mantel we attached two plywood boards to the wall using screws and adhesive. We ripped the plywood to fit inside the pilasters and spaced them perfectly, so that the mantelpiece would slip right over them. The flanking 1/4-in. pieces of cherry had a good bead of silicone applied to them along with other areas of the mantel. Finally, I placed the mantel back into position and attached it with two nails on either side, through the legs into the plywood backing previously attached to the wall. I also drove three screws through the top of the mantel panel, behind the future line of the crown molding that would be applied after the cabinets were installed.

About two weeks later the cabinets were completed and installed. The molding will be installed along with the entire lower floor, not done at this time.

• • •

AUTHOR BIO

Leo Graywacz is the owner of LRG WoodCrafting in Windsor Locks, CT. He started the company in 1997, and has worked by himself, for himself, since that time. Leo’s company specializes in custom woodworking, especially interior architecture and cabinets.

Leo got his start in cabinetry while he was still in his late teens. Getting a job with a house builder, he worked through different jobs until he found himself in the shop, where he flourished. After three years, he was in charge of his own area and had his own helper, making historic windows and sashes.

From that job, he went to other shops and found that he might want to try going out on his own—so he did. For a while, he had a shop in Coventry, CT. It was inexpensive to rent, but was quite a distance from his home. He found a new shop much closer to home, and has been there ever since. He has since doubled the size of the rental area, and handles most of the tasks himself, from ordering materials, to delivery and installation.

Leo likes to dabble in photography, mostly wildlife. When he gets a chance to be in nature with his camera, he can get lost in the art of taking pictures. When he isn’t out in the wild, he is taking photos of work he has completed. He enjoys being on the computer, which makes his work life much easier, and makes time off enjoyable when he isn’t with his family.

He moderates on three forums that deal with construction: Contractor Talk, Remodel Crazy, and Woodworking Talk. He is a member of several others forums, where he tries to help others in the field by talking about his experiences.

Leo has a wife, who has been with him for 25 years, and two boys. The oldest is in college and likes bowling—he enters tournaments, and has an average of 250. The younger son is still in grade school, and, like most young boys, enjoys playing computer games. Leo’s wife is very supportive of his business and is understanding of the time it takes to do it alone. Which is a good thing, because he puts in a lot of hours!

Eventually, our commercial listing in the phone book became a less and less effective means of advertising. The World Wide Web was becoming a far superior way to search for local businesses, and it had a much better format to showcase (and describe) our services—we could use more (and better) pictures, there’s no limit on copy, etc.

So, I contacted a friend who was capable of writing HTML (“Web page language”) and began designing a website I believed would impress the hell out of people. I worked my ass off configuring that site, and drove my friend crazy getting the layout just right (much like we used to do when creating a print ad for a magazine). Of course, I included a large photo gallery of our work, and even though the site became a great place I could “send” people to, we still weren’t getting the hundreds of new phone calls I had imagined we would.

We continued that way for a few years, while still running our small (4-in. high) advertisement in the phone book (which now included our website address); but as the competition increased, with more websites coming online every day, I discovered that I needed to learn what was being called “Search Engine Optimization” (SEO). There are too many elements involved to fully describe it here, but, simply put: the more people that visit your site, the more likely Google is to list your website on (hopefully) the first page of search results for your category (“carpenters,” “cabinet makers,” etc).

Stick with me here . . . I’m actually leading up to something.

Statistics show that spending on video marketing is up. The supposition is that, just as photographs inherently attract more searchers to a Web page than one consisting of copy (words) alone, video is even more of a magnet than photos. Videos are entertaining, and they are about as close as you can get to actually being there.

Last year, we were commissioned to design and construct “A Trestle Table with Built-in Seating,” and I decided to record the project from beginning to end. I kept my camera loaded and ready to go, and I ran into the shop and shot a couple of “takes” whenever my sons were at an important stage of construction. I even took the video camera with me when we installed the pieces in the client’s home.

After the project was complete, it was time to put together a video that would hold people’s attention. I spent a lot of time getting the voice-over just right, and even added some classical background music. When I felt that the “story” required lengthier explanation than I had footage for, I used the initial renderings I had drawn for the client, and (while the camera was running) used a pencil to “point out” the different parts of the drawings I was referring to.

Here’s the finished video:

When editing a video, it is important to strike a balance between going slow enough for viewers to understand what you’re describing, but never so slow as to lose their interest. Like anything else, it requires some time and effort to do well, but a video has the potential to act like a salesman for your company; and, once completed, it continues to spread the word, for a long time to come.

Trestle Tables

I thought this might be a good place to include a few shots of a trestle table I built for my own kitchen. Although it looks like an antique (worn/aged), and it’s heavy in girth, its details are more purposely “worked,” looking perhaps like a piece saved from an ancient European castle or monastery. I love the character really old pieces have, so I began by obtaining enough reclaimed wood (from a place about an hour north of us that specializes in 100 year-old-plus material) to construct the table.

(Note: Click any image to enlarge.)

I found some extra-thick pieces for the table top. These old “ten/quarter” (2 1/2-in.) pine planks were the second story floor boards of a dairy barn, erected in the 1790s, that was located just outside Lancaster, Pennsylvania. Apparently, the dairy was on the first floor and the second floor housed some heavy machinery—horse drawn wagons and such—hence the need for such massive floor boards. There was a “white wash” coating on the bottom of the boards because they also acted as the ceiling of the ground floor dairy.

Anyway, for the table top, I arranged these thick planks to establish the most handsome surfaces on the top faces and outside edges, trying to sand as little of the aged patina as possible.

Using some thicker timbers from the same building, I designed and cut corner blocks, legs, and feet with an assortment of curved profiles I felt were fitting and handsome.

 I’ve included this table of mine to help demonstrate the range of looks that can be achieved, from a “Colonial Revival” farm table to (perhaps) a nobleman’s dining surface.

Shrinkage

While we’re on the subject, I’d like to describe a single aspect of these tables that bothers me to this day. It’s about the breadboard ends. I love to incorporate breadboard end caps—they help keep the surface flat, they “dress” the end grain on the top’s planks, and they just look cooler (one man’s opinion). BUT . . .

As the boards in the center expand and contract through the seasons (and they will move), I’m left with an edge that no longer aligns (see photo, right).

It’s been my experience that our table top’s center section will invariably shrink, leaving a protruding breadboard end. This is because my shop is always more humid than my clients’ kitchens, and, quite frankly, it’s too difficult to keep my shop any drier.

On a 36-in. wide table, whose planks will shrink by a quarter inch (on each side), I suppose I could build a table whose breadboard is a half inch smaller, so that when the planks shrink (to match the moisture content of the home), the edges are never more than an 1/8 in. misaligned one way or the other through summer and winter. I’ve seen a lot of commercial work (factory-made tables, cabinet face frames, etc.) that round-over/ease the edges where two surfaces meet to minimize the look of the inaccuracy, but . . .  1) I dislike that look (for instance, I refuse to do a V-groove where a cabinet’s side wall meets its face frame edge), and 2) when I first present a finished table to a client, I’d be in the unenviable position of having to explain why it appears like I’ve made the breadboard too short.

So, although I consider myself a high-end woodworker, the learning process never really stops.

I can’t help but wonder if one of you guys (or girls, for that matter) had a way to solve this problem without having to compromise too much on the table’s appearance. If you have any ideas, please leave a comment below!

• • •

AUTHOR BIO

Russell Hudson with his sons (from L to R: Brian, Russell, and Russ)

Russell Hudson is the owner of Hudson Cabinetmaking, Inc. He began his career in television advertising and switched to woodworking because of his love of design and building things. His father had a shop in the basement and, he suspects, that’s where the seed was planted.

Hudson Cabinetmaking specializes in high-end cabinetry and furniture. Both of Russell’s sons (Russ and Brian) have become highly skilled cabinetmakers, and share their father’s desire to make it an art form.

Through photographing, video taping, and writing (in blogs and articles) about the projects for their website, Russell finds himself in advertising once again. Apparently, “no acquired skill goes to waste.”

Besides filmmaking and woodwork, Russell plays guitar and piano, loves fishing (he makes his own rods, and ties his own trout flies), loves the wilderness and indigenous cultures, has rebuilt every square inch of their home, is still crazy about his wife, and doubts he’ll ever find enough time to do all the things he’s interested in. He is also, perhaps, clinically insane, but doesn’t consider it a drawback.

I spent many years framing custom homes with a big crew of expensive carpenters, and the pressures of keeping things moving and making payroll taught me to be efficient. Now, I’ve downsized, and my wife and I are enjoying framing houses with no outside help. Getting things done with just two of us working—and saving our aging backs—makes good use of the lessons I’ve learned about fast, efficient framing techniques.

(Click any image to enlarge.)

Of course, there are times—like when we’re looking at sixty or so big heavy rafters—when we miss having those young and strong employees! On the other hand, the benefits of working slower and smarter are many: More time for thinking means fewer mistakes are made, less material is wasted, and details are better designed and thought out. If I ever go back to a big crew, it won’t be as a boss!

Almost every house we build here in coastal New England is based on traditional Cape or colonial designs. As such, they all have gable ends that lend themselves to being built flat and stood up. Even gambrels and funky contemporaries are easier to build this way; in fact, sometimes the roof framing details are unclear until I draw them out full-size to build the gables.

I often wonder what the neighbors think as they watch our progress. Several days of sawing and hammering go by with no visible results, and then all of a sudden, the gables rise up and the house takes on its final shape. Sometimes those gables even have trim, paint, windows, and siding, even though there’s just a plywood box under them and no roof between them! One time we built a house where the two gables were perpendicular to each other. After we raised them, people started stopping us on the street to ask what the house was going to look like!

Most houses have standard gable ends that are built and raised from one of the upper floors or the attic, although I’ve occasionally raised story-and-a-half balloon-framed gables from a lower floor.

In a nutshell, I draw a picture of the gable on the subfloor, cut all of the pieces and assemble them, add plywood, housewrap, fly rafters, trim, paint, and whatever else I dare, and then stand them up. The smaller the wall, the more stuff I can put on it. On some houses, the first time the gables ever see a ladder is when the owner puts up his Christmas lights.

Start with a full-scale drawing

Like a boat builder, I like to start out with an accurate, full-size drawing of the gable, with its base exactly in position on the floor. Better yet, I like to start out with identical pictures of each gable. With these drawings, I can design and pattern every component of the walls and roof, often making them in pairs or larger sets. Whoever said that “symmetry is the hobgoblin of little minds” certainly wasn’t a house framer! In addition to accurate framing, I also use these full size drawings to design and finalize trim details. Some would say this is micro-managing framing, but by tweaking the design full-scale, I can avoid awkward rips and flashings, inefficient use of materials, and aesthetic mistakes.

I start out with the big rectangle, usually the whole floor including the walls that flank the gables.

We measure and adjust the rectangle until it is square, equilateral, parallel, and aligned with the exterior walls of the house. Then I bisect the rectangle with a center line, which locates the ridge and the peaks of the gables. If I align everything in the gable walls with this center line, the framing ends up plumb and the roof will be square and symmetrical.

There are various complications that can arise at this point. Quite often, gables built on an attic floor can’t be drawn completely because the sub-floor stops short of the exterior walls. In this case, the long sides of the rectangle become hypothetical, and just represent the line where the bottom plane of the roof rafters would intersect the subfloor. Commonly, the rafter tails need to swing down to a lower level when the wall is raised as well. Flared eaves such as those planned for the house photographed here, or transitions to other lower roofs, can also complicate the picture.

Openings in the floor can also be inconvenient, such as when the gable peak lands in the stairway. I usually take the time to fill in the opening with a couple of cleats and a scrap of subfloor (or if I’m really thinking straight, I remember not to cut out that section). For this project, one gable covered the opening for the stairway, which was our only access to the top floor. We had to keep it open, so we stretched a straightedge across the opening to take measurements.

When the floor is laid out, I start drawing a picture of the gable end, using the plate or kneewall height and the roof pitch to arrive at lines that represent the tops of the gable wall plates. I like to do both gables at once, even if the peaks overlap, which gives me four top plate lines that I can measure. If they’re not exactly the same, I go back, figure out why, and fix it!

Incidentally, these same techniques can be used for those speedy gables we used to build on simpler and less-engineered structures, with flagged studs and no top plates or headers. On those jobs, we just snapped out the same lines, tacked the stock on layout, and cut everything in place. Ah, the good ol’ days.

I continue the lofting process by drawing in the framing details, such as the ridge, posts, window openings, partition posts and nailers, and anything else I’d like to include. I often do all of this work with adjustable blue lines until everything is right, and then snap it out in permanent red. I also snap lines to represent the top edges of the rafters, because I can use these lines later to fine-tune things like dormer and skylight details. For window openings, I use one set of lines to represent the opening width, because these stay visible as I assemble the wall. I don’t bother with any horizontal lines, because cutting trimmers and jacks to length establishes these heights.

The wall frame takes shape

The gable wall starts out with a bottom plate, toenailed along the inside of the baseline as drawn on the floor. I use straight stock and nail it at an angle through its inboard edge, holding it to the line so that the nails bend as the wall is raised, while keeping the plate in position. On any but very small gables, I add several metal straps; I’ve never had a wall start to slide off the building as I raised it, but I’ve often thought about the mess it would make if it happened!

Most gables are large enough that I need several pieces of stock for the bottom plate.

I splice the plate stock on the center of a common layout point because it gives me a convenient way to lay out my studs.

I usually take the time to bevel the ends of the bottom to exact dimensions where they intersect with the angled top plates, although holding them back to where they cut off square is perfectly acceptable. I’ve been called bad names for this type of exactitude!

With the bottom plate in position, I measure the key parts of the wall: the top plates, king studs, and ridge post. The ridge sits on top of the ridge post and aligns with the top edges of the rafters. To determine the length of the ridge post, I subtract the height of the ridge from that point and measure down. Because the ridge height (9 1/2 in. in this case) is less than the plumb cut on the end of the rafter, the ridge post extends beyond the gable plates.

Many gables have a center window with a header carrying the ridge post, which isn’t a problem as long as the top of the post ends up where it’s located on the drawing.

I use a scrap of stock to mark out thicknesses on the floor, and I make sure that any pieces that should be the same length actually are.

For example, if there is a matched pair of windows equidistant from the centerline, there should also be matching king studs on either side of them. Also, it’s critical that the top plates are identical in length, otherwise the rafters won’t fit properly. I cut and install these key components, carefully making sure that the gable remains on its lines.

Sometimes I use a few temporary toenails or blocks tacked to the floor to keep the top plates and end studs from moving while the wall is assembled, but generally it’s better if everything is cut accurately and stays in place on its own.

Next, I fill in window and door openings, building them from the inside out and from the bottom up, because I usually have all of these parts cut and stacked before I start. Again, I’m careful to keep these openings on their snapped lines, so that they’re plumb when the wall is raised.

Studs and cripples come next. I lay them out only on the bottom plate. I measure the longest stud on each side, making sure it’s parallel with my centerline.

After that, I cut the rest of the studs for each side determining their length using a common difference measurement, and nail them in where they fit (see photo, right).

This strategy works well, and a Construction Master calculator, or similar calculator, makes it easy, especially with odd pitches that I can’t do in my head.

Cripples above and below openings can be measured from the nearest common stud, keeping an eye out for bowed stock. Because gable studs don’t carry vertical loads, I cut them a little shy: Making them tight and forcing them to layout risks bowing the outside components of the wall, which can cause all sorts of problems later.

Rafters go on next

After the wall is framed, I make the rafters to go on them. The starting point for the rafter is the top plate length, taken from the drawing on the subfloor, and usually written down when all the measurements were confirmed. For a typical house, I first make one rafter to test fit, and then four more—two for each gable, and one to keep for a pattern for the rest of the roof.

I rip a few blocks to thickness to hold the rafters off the floor and flush with the outside of the wall framing; for example, a 2x rafter on a 2×6 wall needs to sit on 4-in. blocks. I set the rafters in place and nail them through the top plates. I make the rafters exactly as they need to be for the rest of the roof, but then I ease the plumb cut at the ridge to make it easier to set the ridge later. If the rafters are cut with tails and bird’s mouths (the ones on this project weren’t) I also ease the plumb cut on the birds mouths to keep the rafter tails from binding and splitting as the wall is raised.

The last pieces to go in are perimeter blocking for my sheathing, and firestop blocking at the collar tie (or ceiling joist height). These sundry small pieces are much easier to do while the wall is flat on the deck. I snap a chalk line, lay some scrap stock along the line, and cut the pieces right in place.

Sheathing the wall

Generally, the sheathing on the walls below the gable stops somewhere below floor level, so we install the gable wall sheathing hanging over the bottom plate. After the wall is stood up and braced, the sheathing can be nailed off, thus tying the upper and lower walls together across the floor system. This detail is often specified by the engineers, and is preferable to those nasty metal straps that the side wall guys hate so much. I always leave 1/2 in. or so to spare when measuring the overhang. The gap won’t matter, and the floor system and plates are bound to compress as the house settles and loads up with finish materials. I also mark any overhanging plywood, or even install a temporary guard-rail, to keep people from walking out on the overhanging sheathing. It’s a nuisance having to repair the plywood after they crash through it on their way to the ground.

Other than that, the sheathing is installed the same as on any wall—nailed in place with the openings routed out or cut with a saw. Letting the sheathing hang out beyond the rafters and cutting it in place is a real time-saver, especially when compared to ladder or staging work; and reversing the cutoffs to fit similarly shaped areas significantly reduces waste. Just make sure the top edge is cut about 1/4 in. below the top of the rafter, because the rafter will shrink as it dries.

House wrap or not

I’m all for putting on the house wrap while the gable is on the deck and it’s easy: five minutes on the flat, versus a lot longer balancing on staging.

Most houses get Tyvek®, Typar®, or some other similar product, although the jury seems to be coming back on these materials, and I’ve been seeing a resurgence of old-fashioned felt paper.

Whichever covering I use, I leave the bottom edge unfastened to accommodate the wrap from the lower walls as well as any flashing that might need to go under it. And because we’re in an area of frequent high winds, I tack some furring strips (or rips) over the loose edge to keep it from blowing off before the siding goes on.

Occasionally, we’ll frame a house where the sidewall contractor wants to do his own house wrap, usually to integrate custom flashings or siding details. In this case, we still install felt paper or Vycor® type splines to protect areas that will be difficult to cover later.

Fly rafters fly

Most of the houses we build have overhangs on their gables, and these are much easier to build while the gables are flat on the deck.

There are many acceptable details for framing them, depending on the designer, the trim design, the amount of overhang, the siding, etc. Minimalist trim involves just a spacer to accommodate siding, and then the fascia. My gable ends most often have a modest overhang of 8 in. to 12 in., which I build with the fly rafters on top of toe-nailed blocks.

Overhangs wider than 12 in. or so should be built as ‘ladders,’ and will need to be braced straight later when the roof sheathing is installed and nailed.

Even wider or more complicated overhangs with lookout supports can be prefabricated and installed before the gable is raised. I put in temporary braces to carry the overhang until the lookouts go in when the rest of the roof is framed. No matter what the trim detail, I back it with a wide strip of felt paper, which protects the walls from any water getting through the trim or blowing up through the siding.

Trim, windows, vents, siding, paint…

There are many options here, and what you install is limited only by what you feel safe lifting! Almost anything you can install will be easier now than later. I almost always install at least the fascia boards and soffits, and if there are frieze boards, I fit and tack them in place to be removed and re-installed by the sidewallers.

On a small, simple house where I can have a single piece of trim go from eave to ridge, I put the stock on long, and cut it later when I trim the eaves. On a larger house, or one with complications such as box returns, I stop the trim with a miter to which I can fit the rest of the trim details from below. I often leave the ends of the boards un-nailed to allow for fine-tuning later. Two other considerations:

I back the vulnerable vertical joint at the peak with a piece of felt or rubber to keep the moisture from getting into the soffits and framing if the joint opens (see photo, right).

I also hold the fascia above the fly rafter to allow for the roof sheathing thickness.

Small attic windows or gable vents are easy to install at this point. But I usually don’t install larger windows, because they are heavy, expensive, and they should be plumbed vertically after they’re installed. Also, big windows don’t take kindly to the racking that can take place while the wall is being lifted. Labor-intensive stuff like bow vents or louvers are a real no-brainer; nobody likes doing that sort of work from ladders or staging. I often add shingles or siding around these features, especially if there is a convenient horizontal detail where I can make the transition from the siding below.

Decorative shingling is also much easier to do with the wall flat. The pattern can be placed, adjusted, tinkered with, and finally nailed. I’ve never yet had a sidewall contractor arrive and complain that some of his shingles were already installed. He usually just asks if next time we can do the dormer cheeks, too, while we’re at it!

It’s a tradition in New England for carpenters to sign and date their work, usually on or behind the top shingle on a gable.

I usually add a few details, like the weather conditions and the names of crew on the job. I like finding these little time capsules myself, and I like the thought of sharing them with some future carpenter. Of course, they’ll have no idea that I wrote the note kneeling comfortably on the deck, while he or she will be standing high on a ladder or staging plank! Or maybe levitating in an anti-gravity belt…

Paint used to be more of a concern, and I’ll still paint when I can, but most professional painters these days seem to have bucket lifts. There are houses with gables beyond the reach of a bucket though, and the paint that these gables get before they go up may be the best coat they ever get. In any case, I do keep a can of primer and a brush on hand so that I can seal the cut edges as I install the trim. But that is part of any good trim job, on the deck or in the air.

Raising the gables

Now that we’ve spent a few days making no visible progress, this is the fun part, when the house suddenly starts to take shape. Raising most gables is a pretty simple process, easily done by two people with two wall jacks. When I had a big crew, we often threw them up with sheer muscle power—a measure of macho, bravado, and risk. Now, after twenty years, my wife and I like to do it slowly, safely, and comfortably.

My wall jacks, made by Proctor, can lift about 1,000 lb. Because they are lifting considerably less than half the total weight of the wall, they’re capable of standing walls that might weigh three times that amount.

The other limiting factor of lifting jacks is height: They are designed to lift at an attachment point no more than 11 ft. from the deck. Depending on pitch, this means they can stand a gable with a peak height up to about 16 ft. Much more than that makes the gable too top-heavy to lift safely.

When I got the jacks, they came with a video demonstrating their use, but because I’ve never owned a TV, I had to read the instructions and learn by trial and error. Nowadays, they’d come with a DVD, and I have teenagers who could figure that out for me.

We did once use our jacks to lift a giant set of gambrel gables that were much larger than the capacity of the jacks. We left two temporary openings in the wall at 11 ft. to put the jacks through, and used extra person-power to lift the peak and the ends. Because the gambrel shape concentrates the weight down low , and because we were careful to use temporary safety supports, the process was safe enough. However, it was a massive amount of weight to handle. I was relieved when the were safely standing, and I probably wouldn’t try it again today!

I start the lifting process by selecting attachment points as high on the wall as possible, generally right at 11 ft. I drive a wooden wedge or a pry bar under the top plate to lift the gable, slip the hook underneath, and secure it with a couple of 12d nails, driven partway in and bent over. If you’re careful, it’s okay to fasten the hooks to the rafter instead of to the top plate, as I did on this project, but I prefer not to, as it tends to twist the trim. And besides, fastening to the top plate gives me some extra lifting distance.

Next, I slide the base of the jack up against the hook and secure it to the subfloor, again using 12d nails bent over.

I try to land the bases on joists or beams. If that isn’t possible, I set the bases on blocks of wood to spread the load and keep them from punching holes through the subfloor. After the jack is in place, taking the slack out of the cable keeps it standing on its own. I’m very careful to spool the cables neatly on the drums. I loaned the jacks to someone once who destroyed the cables by winding them up with kinks and over-rides.

With both jacks set, and with braces, blocks, and a long level on hand, we slowly and evenly crank the wall up. Generally, I need to secure the center brace before the wall is raised too far to reach it; this is safer than climbing a stepladder with the wall held only by the jacks. Before I step under a large wall to nail a brace, I put several sturdy wooden sawhorses under it so that it won’t flatten me if something lets go.

Because the brace needs to pivot from 60° to 90° as the wall continues to go up, I nail the brace to the gable with 3 or 4 nails, driven through at different angles, but with their points going through close together.

This way, the whole assembly can twist without splitting the brace or the stud. I’m also careful to nail the brace to a full-height stud or to the ridge post. A cripple with a brace nailed to it might rip out of the wall if a tailwind gets behind it.

We continue to raise the gable until it’s within a few inches of vertical. The last few inches can be pushed by one of us holding the brace, while the other holds the level (see photo, left).

When it’s plumb, the person holding the brace shoots a few nails through it and into a block nailed to the floor. The jacks stay on for security, as they’ll stop the wall before it goes too far either way. After the center brace is set, I usually add other braces on either side to keep the rakes straight until the roof is sheathed.

We finish up by sledging the plate to the line where needed, nailing it down and nailing off the overhanging sheathing. Now it’s ready for a ridge and rafters, but that’s a whole other story…

• • •

AUTHOR BIO

John Spier started in construction thirty-some years ago, working first for a renovation company, and then as a production framer in the southwest. He worked in a variety of jobs and places as an itinerant carpenter, and along the way picked up a bachelor’s degree in architectural engineering. John’s wife, Kerri, became a carpenter because it paid her way through college much better than waitressing and bartending. Together they spent most of twenty years building a construction business, before deciding that life should have other priorities, too.

For the past five years, they have spent 7-8 months of each year sailing their boat around the world with their children, on the installment plan. John did the first edit of this article in Maldives. The final edit was done in Oman. In a few more years, the world will be circled, the kids will be off to college, and full-time work will beckon. When that time comes, they hope to focus on smaller, more interesting projects; John perhaps on smaller houses, and Kerri on furniture, art, and musical instruments. Meanwhile, they write the occasional article, to keep their minds alive, and because the keyboard is mightier than the hammer.

My old gates. (Note: Click to see a larger image of my dog. You can also click any other image to enlarge it.)

Now, more than fifteen years later, having replaced all the doors, re-piped the whole house, installed exterior French doors in place of the old worn-out patio doors, and refinished the hardwood floors (of course, I still haven’t done the kitchen or the bathrooms!), I finally got around to replacing those freakin’ gates (see photo, right).

Design & Dimensions

With all the books I have on architecture, I toyed with a dozen different styles—mostly craftsman and mission style designs. In the end, after considering the perspective of my latest dog (he has a low viewpoint), I came up with a design that combines both styles, probably more than anything because of the different types of materials.

Craftsman-style homes are known for including wood, brick, stone, steel, brass, copper, tile, concrete—an assortment of different materials. I used Western Red Cedar for the stiles, rails, and raised panels; 5/8-in. thick TimberTech boards for the flat panels; copper plumbing pipe for the viewports; teak for the keystone latch; and mahogany for the interior latch handle. My reasons for the different materials were simple—that’s what I could get my hands on.

I used my video camera to capture most of the process of building the gates. Here’s a fairly thorough collection of those videos. (The text of the article continues below the videos.)

Sealing

When it came to picking the finish, or sealer, I didn’t think twice. I called Joe Wood and asked him what he uses. Joe specializes in designing and building gates, arbors, and decks. In fact, it was Joe who recommended I use Western Red Cedar. His advice for the finish, hands down, was Penofin. Joe said Penofin was easy to apply, easy to re-apply, and would last two or more years. I liked all three characteristics—I hate finishing! So I went with Joe’s advice.

Before assembling the gates, I sealed most of the parts—especially the parts that weren’t glued into place—like the panels, along with the edges of the interior stiles and rails.

After the glue-up, and once the clamps were removed, I scraped off the hardened glue and sanded everything down to 220 grit, paying particular attention to any areas where the sealer had dripped or bled through.

I drenched the stiles and rails and wood panels with Penofin. I left it on for about fifteen minutes, then wiped off the excess with rags.

Installation

I let the gates sit and dry for about a week, then tackled the installation, which was a lot easier than you might think. I’ve hung a lot of doors, and installing a pair of gates is no different than hanging a pair of doors. In fact, it’s a lot easier: there are no head jamb reveals to worry about, and the gaps between the gates and the posts don’t have to be the thickness of a nickel!

I started by screwing a couple of short 1x4s across my old gates, removed the hinges, and pushed them forward about a foot—I didn’t want my dog running out into the street while I was hanging the new gates. That left me room to install the new posts. I fastened one post to the stucco wall of the house, and the other to the side-yard block wall, using polyurethane adhesive and lags with lead shields on both posts. Yeah, I used about a tube of adhesive on each post—why not? It’s cheap insurance.

Before tightening up the bolts, I cross-strung the posts, to be sure they weren’t cross-legged.

I didn’t have to get them perfect, just close, which was a good thing—since the 1994 earthquake, the block wall on the left is about 1 1/2 in. out of plumb. You’ll notice I also fastened a temporary 2×4 with pocket screws from post to post. More about that in minute.

I set a temporary block under each post, to be sure they wouldn’t sag before the adhesive dried, then tightened up the bolts (see photo, right).

Gate hinges aren’t exactly like butt hinges, something I learned in a hurry. I thought I’d be able to mount the hinges like a butt hinge, so the leaf on the post would be covered by the edge of the gate. But the barrel of the hinges, and the backset of the screw pattern, wouldn’t allow that option. Of course, I didn’t realize that until after I had the gates clamped temporarily to the horizontal brace (see photo, below). My plan was to adjust for any remaining cross-leg by moving the hinges in and out on the posts. I was so certain of my plan that I even took pictures of the process.

Unfortunately, I didn’t realize the problem with the hinges until after I went through all those steps. To make the hinges work, I had to mount them flat on the inside face of each post (see photo, left). After mounting the hinges, I moved the 2×4 horizontal brace out far enough to allow room for the gates, then clamped the gates to the brace, adjusted the height of the gates (so they were aligned horizontally and the gaps were even and parallel), then fastened the hinges to the back of each gate. At least that part of my plan worked!

The Latch

I’ve always hated gate latches. Period. I wanted a latch that wouldn’t need adjustments every time the seasons changed; one that wouldn’t bend or dig into the gates; hardware that could be adjusted down the road—in case the gates settled excessively.

I saw a program on television—I think it was a cartoon—where a keystone was used as a decorative backboard on a hotel room door (see photo, right). The room number was mounted right to the keystone. I liked that a lot. I shot a photograph of my television screen! I knew I’d use that detail somewhere, but never realized how nice it would work as a latch on my gates.

The problem was, I couldn’t figure out how to mount it so it would rotate and clear the stationary gate. I guess I’ve spent too much time with standard hardware, which is center-bored. I sent an early drawing to Todd Murdock and he sent back this—honest.

(Click here if you want to download the SketchUp drawing of the latch; Click here if you want to download the SketchUp drawing of the gates.)

It wasn’t long before I gave up on the copper idea—I didn’t have any copper lying around my shop, but I did have some teak. Todd taught me how to print the drawings from SketchUp full-size on my photo-printer. I glued those drawings to each layer of the gate using 3M Super 77 contact cement (another trick Todd taught me!), spraying the adhesive on the templates only—not the wood—so it would be easy to remove the paper.

I cut each layer out on my band saw so the corners would be sharp and the edges crisp. Following the lines on the printed templates was very easy.

I used my TS 55 and guide rail to cut all the kerfs, which was also easy. Because each layer covered the preceding layer, I didn’t have to worry about stopping cuts on the lower layers.

Before applying the glue, I wiped all the surfaces with lacquer thinner—I read somewhere that because of the oil in teak, glue won’t adhere unless you clean the wood first.

Instead of buying custom-welded parts, I picked up all the stuff I needed to mount the latch at a local plumbing supply. I used a 1 1/4-in. threaded nipple that was 3 1/2 in. long for the shaft, threaded the nipple into a mounting ring, and fastened it to the teak with screws and polyurethane adhesive. Permanent.

In the second-to-last photograph below, you’ll notice a short piece of 1 1/4-in. PVC, too. After I bored a hole through the gates for the latch, I inserted that PVC into the hole as a sleeve, figuring the soft Western Red Cedar would last longer if the galvanized shaft wasn’t touching it.

For the interior handle, I picked off another challenge. Jed Dixon has been teaching me to use a spokeshave, and Keith Mathewson has been urging me to use hand tools and break the surface of wood, so I laminated two 3/4-in. layers, cut the handle to shape on my band saw, then carved and shaped the handle down from 1 1/2 in. at the shaft to 3/4 in. at the teak catch. A single set-screw threads through the handle and penetrates the shaft (top of handle); and a galvanized cap tightens the handle and latch on the gate.

The final product:

That’s when the fun started. I figured I’d order a standard polyurethane sunburst from my local supplier, but the house didn’t have a standard entry door—the door and sidelight were mulled together. I needed a 58 1/2-in. sunburst to fit that opening! And no one made one. I spoke with one manufacturer and learned that they’d make any custom size I wanted. The good news was that after they charged me $1,500 to make the mold and $800 for the sunburst, each additional sunburst would cost only $800. But I needed only ONE!!

Sometimes it’s not smart to quote a price—even an estimate—while you’re talking to a client!

Like a lot of construction problems, I fell asleep struggling for an answer and woke up with a perfect and simple solution: I’ll make the sunburst myself. After all, how hard can it be?

Terminology

The sunburst in this article is pretty simple—it’s a half-circle. You can use the same technique to create a elliptical sunburst, but that’s a story I’ll save for another time.

In order to make a simple sunburst, you need to understand the terminology (see photo, below). First, we’re working with a half-circle. Every circle has a radius—that’s the distance from the center of the circle to the outer edge (or, circumference). The diameter of a circle is the distance across the circle at the widest point—it’s also the radius multiplied by 2.

(Note: Click any image to enlarge. Hit your browser's "back" button to return to this article.)

This Sunburst

The sunburst I’ll be making for this article has a 48-in. diameter, which means it has a 24-in. radius.

However, those measurements are to the outside edge of the trim! Because of the exterior Versatex trim I’ll be using, I have to subtract 3/4 in. from the outside dimension (O.D.). That means that the radius for the backboard is 23 1/4 in. and the diameter of the backboard is 46 1/2 in.

There’s one more circular element to a sunburst, and that’s the sun itself. For this example, I made the sun 9 in. in diameter—a 4 1/2-in. radius. During my Roadshow presentations, I use one trammel arm with three center points to scribe all three diameters, but I use another trammel arm—attached to my router—to cut the backboard, and a third trammel arm to cut the center sun.

Cut the Backboard

There are countless ways to attach a trammel arm to a router. I’ve found that the best method is using a Festool 1400 router along with a template guide adapter. I bought several of the adapters, and made an assortment of snap-on trammel arms for different size radii, and for ellipses, too. That’s the beauty of the Festool system—attaching a trammel arm, or switching trammel arms, is literally a snap.

. . .

I’ve found that it’s easier to drill center points exactly in the center of the bar stock if I first run the aluminum through my table saw and cut a shallow kerf (see photo, right). Next, I bolt the aluminum to an adapter with two #8 flat-head machine screws (see photo, below). The adapter must be drilled for those screws, and the holes must be countersunk, too.

Adapter with two #8 flat-head machine screws

I use a down-cut spiral router bit, which helps keep the PVC dust against the backboard, and makes for easier dust collection. That’s another reason I prefer using the 1400 router. PVC dust is nasty stuff—I’d rather have it vacuumed up quickly than spread all over the work piece, the work table, and my clothes. If you don’t have good dust collection on your router, try using Static Guard. Spray it on your tools, your work area, and your clothes, and the dust won’t stick—it’ll fall right off, like sawdust should!

Even or Odd Rays

Before laying out the size of each ray, you have to decide if the sunburst will have an odd or even number of rays. If you use an odd number of rays, a single ray will land right at the apex of the arch—like a keystone.

If you use an even number of rays—which is what I’ll be doing in this article, two rays will meet and flank the apex of the arch. I’ll use twelve rays in this example, six on each side of the apex.

Layout: The Hard Way

There are several ways you can lay out the rays on a sunburst. When I first started making these ornaments, I approached the problem by dividing the circumference by the number of rays. (Spoiler: If you want to save time, skip ahead to Layout: The Easy Way!)

To find the circumference of a circle, we were all taught in high school to use the formula: 2 x pi x r. Of course, most carpenters weren’t paying attention in high school. I know I wasn’t. But, today you don’t need to remember formulas. You can use a construction calculator, and it’s much easier—every step of the way.

1. In this example, enter 48 Inches, then press the "Circ" key. The display will note 48 in. as the diameter.

2. Next, press the "Circ" key again. You'll see the area in the display.

3. Then press the "Circ" key once more, and the display will note the Circumference.

4. Because we're working with half the circle, divide the circumference by 2. The result is the arch length of our sunburst: 75 3/8 in. Because we're using 12 sun rays, divide 75 3/8 in. by 12. The result is 6 5/16. That's the width of each ray along the circumference.

You might think you can cut a gauge block or use a compass to strike marks for every ray, but you can’t, for two reasons: First, 6 5/16 in. is a measurement along an arch or radius—it’s not a straight line measurement; and second, the measurement is not really 6 5/16!

The calculator rounds off the real decimal number to the nearest friendly fraction. To find out what the real decimal number is, press the Inch key: 6.2832. Good luck finding that precise measurement on a tape measure.

But you can use the calculator and a piece of flexible material—a thin rip of PVC works great—to make a flexible story pole.

To layout the story pole, use your calculator to locate measurement marks for every ray. Just press the + button once, and the = button once to find the second ray; then press the = button to find the location of each succeeding ray. You’ll discover very quickly that the calculator will eliminate cumulative error—it will add 6.2832 in. to itself for each layout mark, and round the sum off to the nearest 1/16th, every time.

Layout: The Easy Way

Using a story pole is accurate—if you use a really sharp pencil and you mark each measurement precisely. But that kind of accuracy isn’t easy, in fact it’s difficult and slow. For that reason—and because Gary Katz figured out how to make a jig for both cutting and routing each sun ray—I use a new method now, which actually eliminates the whole layout process. Rather than concentrating on the circumference of the sunburst, I now focus on the angle of each ray.

Geocentric Society

Did you ever wonder why there are 360 degrees in a circle? What’s that have to do with this sunburst? A lot. The possible answer dates all the way back to early civilization—when we counted the number of days in a year measured by the time it took for the earth to orbit the sun. Of course, we didn’t know that’s what was happening—we thought the sun was orbiting the earth. And we thought it was 360 days, when it’s actually 365 1/4—or something close to that. Regardless of the real reason, a circle still has 360 degrees.

If a circle has 360 degrees, and we divide it in half, we’re left with 180 degrees. And if we divide 180 degrees by 12 rays, each ray has an angle—or PITCH—of 15 degrees. And PITCH is the key concept for laying out a sunburst the easy way.

Framing Square as Protractor

A lot of carpenters use framing squares, but few of them ever stop to think where these magically simple tools originated. The first steel squares were apparently manufactured in the 1820s by the Eagle Square Company in Vermont, but the design and use of the square dates back much further. According to Don Dunkley, Tools of the Trade’s “professor of framing,” “wooden squares dating back to 1500 B.C. have been found buried ceremoniously in the tombs of master Egyptian builders.” Don’s been known to exaggerate a little, but even if his dates are only close, I bet a lot of carpenters have never realized that a framing square is really just a very precise protractor.

Most of us think that a framing square is meant to describe roof pitch: for instance, if a roof rises 6 in. vertically for every 12-in. horizontal run, the roof is known as a 6/12 pitch—a very easy concept for a carpenter to get his hands around—after all, angles can be confusing; it’s much easier—and more precise over long distances—to work with a 6/12 pitch than it is with a 26.57˚ angle. However, sometimes you need to work with precise angles, and a framing square is still the best tool for the job.

High School Math Class

Let’s go back to high school for just a second and take a look at the right angle. According to Pythagoras, if we know any two elements of a right angle, it is easy to find all the other dimensions.

If we know the rise and run, we can determine the pitch; if we know the pitch and the run, we can determine the rise. And we can also determine the diagonal—which comes in handy when laying out stairs.

For the sunburst I’m laying out, we know that each sun ray has a pitch or angle of 15˚. And if we use the 24-in. leg of a framing square to layout the first ray, we know that the run of the right angle is 24 in. Using a construction calculator, it’s easy to solve for the rise—that’s the element we really need to know in order to strike a line at exactly 15˚.

Using a construction calculator, enter 24 INCH and press RUN.
Next, enter 15 and press PITCH. The calculator will know you’re working with 15˚.
Press RISE and the calculator will display the precise amount that a 15˚ diagonal line will rise across a 24-in. span—6 7/16 in.

While I could use a framing square to lay out each sun ray, that’s not the most efficient or the most fun way to build the sunburst. Instead, I use the framing square to lay out a cutting jig.

Cutting Jig

We now know that the ray rises 6 7/16 in. every 24 in. To make a cutting jig, just place a framing square across the edge of a board with the end of the long leg touching the edge. Adjust the square until the 6 7/16-in. measurement mark on the short leg is also flush with the edge of board. Then trace a line along both legs of the framing square. (Click on the images below to enlarge them.)

Attach stops to both layout lines. But leave the stop short along the 24-in. line, so you have room to cut the radius for the sun, and so there’s enough room to run a router with a pattern bit across that radius.

Instead of using the fold-down guide rail on my MFT table, I attached two taller stops to the back of the jig. Those stops position my guide rail perfectly for every cut.

Rabbet the Edges

With a small sunburst like this one, it’s difficult to stack each ray on top of the preceding ray—the thickness of the sun increases with each layer. Instead, I opted to rabbet the sides of each ray, creating a groove—or dado line—separation. I used a bearing guided rabbeting bit, but you could just as easily run a V-groove bit on the edges of the rays, or a core box bit—any detail that creates some separation between the rays.

• • •

AUTHOR BIO

Mike Sloggatt is a frequent contributor to the Journal of Light Construction magazine and writes for Fine Homebuilding and Tools of the Trade, in addition to moderating the JLC Rough Carpentry Forum. For the past four years, Mike has been the Frame-to-Finish (Rough) Carpentry presenter for the Katz Roadshow. Mike also teaches seminars and clinics in all aspects of carpentry and remodeling, and is a regular presenter at JLC Live, The Remodeling Show, and the International Builders’ Show. He takes education seriously, especially for the construction industry, and appears frequently at association meetings, including NARI and other regional builder and material groups and lumber yards. Mike has more than thirty years of experience, and he specializes in high-end, challenging remodels near his home on Long Island.

(Click any image to enlarge.)

I’m a lead carpenter—if it’s wood, I do it. From framing roofs to trim carpentry, kitchens, cabinet making and housed string staircases. My van racking system must carry any subset of tools.

The make and model of a van is immaterial to the process of van racking. The van in this article is an LWB Trafic—slightly smaller than a standard Merc Sprinter. Racking a moving toolbox is typically done with ply, 2x and 1x. (If you want a “pimp my van” job, you’ll have to spend your own money!).

Security: Shake, Rattle, and Roll

In heavily populated areas, parking is often far away from the jobsite. You might want to consider fitting deadlocks on the cargo doors. Bulkheads between the cab and cargo area can also increase security, as well as provide wall storage.

This van will eventually get a limo tint, and an internal security cage on the rear tail lift—bricks can open windows!

Everything in the cargo area is subject to shake, rattle, and roll. Tools and toolboxes must be secured so they don’t fall out. Simplicity is always the key. There is nothing more annoying than a squeak you can’t locate. The design and build should take these matters into account.

Ply Lining Kits: A No Brainer

I replaced the wheel arch covers with 3/4-ply.

A ply bed in the van reduces drumming and provides a fixing surface—something solid to which other components can be secured. Ply lining to the walls protects the panels from being dented from the inside while also providing another fixing surface. Re-sprays are expensive; ply lining kits are cheap. It’s a no-brainer.

This van came lined, so my first job was to replace the wheel arch covers with 3/4-ply to take weight, and to act as a fixing surface. I’d recommend rebuilding the wheel arch covers in smaller vans with 1x and 1/2-in. plywood to improve strength.

Ply-lined sides make locating the side ribs for fixing points more difficult. Roof ribs are far more useful. Ply sides are fixed with self-tappers, so they won’t take any weight on their own.

Adhesive/sealants like Sika EBT (an elastic polyurethane adhesive/sealant similar to DAP Polyurethane) are the best choice when incorporating ply linings as a monolithic part of the racking. They also significantly increase the load-bearing capacity, and they take paint if you want to spray the racking.

Don’t use silicone as a cheap alternative—the joints will fail after a couple of years of constant shaking in a van.

Tools Dictate Layout

Long, relatively delicate tools are the greatest challenge for racking layout, since they have to be carried flat. If you plan carefully, you can also build slots for door-hanging levels. Long saw tracks are another matter—they can only be stored down low or high up, and they’ll need protection (see photo, right).

The size and weight of chop saws and portable bench saws means they’ll want to sit on the bed, against the bulkhead. This is also the best place in an emergency stop. Plus, the sliding side door will make for easy access.

Other heavier items, like dust extractors or portable thickness planers and compressors, are compact in size and easier to lift. You can be more flexible in their placement. To avoid stressing your spine, consider positioning them so that you can lift them in and out without bending forward or twisting sideways at the same time you’re lifting. Wormdrives, heavy sidewinders, and transformers should also be placed with careful attention to your back.

Today, the bulk of carpenters’ tools come in boxes—and good boxes, too. The more regular the box sizes, the more compact your racking can be. The remaining space is for everything else.

Measure the Van

The van you have may be the right size for the work you do, but before building any racks, measure it carefully. This van revealed a floor length that will take a 2.7 metre (106 inch) Festool track. The rear lift tailgate makes loading plywood vertically—on its long edge—a bit complicated. However, I had just enough room between the wheel wells—48 1/4 in., after allowing for plywood build-outs—so I opted to transport plywood flat. Building a false floor (see below) made it easy to store my long guide rail, and it made it easier to load and unload plywood.

For this kind of project, you don’t need drawings. I’m no good with 3D drawing packages anyway. Use the tools themselves—draw around them with duct tape on the ply lining.

Identify Fixing Points and Layout Boards

The bed can be a stable, fixing point, as are the now-strengthened wheel covers. The steel bulkhead between the cab and cargo area invariably sports a rib or two. Screw a piece of 1x as another fixing point and leave it long for the moment—you’ll know when it’s time to cut it to length.

If there is no bulkhead, consider installing one! If you use 3/4-ply, it’ll provide more storage space and increased security. Most vans have nuts spot-welded to the wall and roof ribs. If they are available, and in the right place, they make good mounting points.

Fix ply layout boards to the roof ribs for transferring layout lines from bed to roof, and then longitudinally down the van. Occasionally, they will become a permanent part of the racking. The Trafic’s roof ribs have 6×3-in. flat spots at either end, so fixing was easy. Most of the time, the best direction for layout boards is across the van. If you spend some time getting the layout boards parallel to the van bed, in both directions, it’ll make things even easier.

First Item: A False Bed (if required)

I used 2x3s on-edge, which gave the depth of false floor required. Lay the tools on the bed set 2x around them, and screw the lumber down to the existing ply bed. I used screws long enough to fix into the existing ply bed, no further—if you minimize the number of screws used in the metal beds, you’ll reduce the risk of water penetration and rust.

Laying a 4×8 sheet of ply on the 2x gave the position of the “slamstop” in front of the metal bulkhead, and created a possible storage area between it and the bulkhead. The slamstop is constructed from 3×2 framing material. I made mine tall enough to stop 10 sheets of plywood or MDF stacked flat in the truck. I was in a van crash once, and the load acted like a dead blow hammer when it hit the metal bulkhead. I wouldn’t want to be driving a truck if the lock came through the bulkhead! Hence the slamstop: it’s meant to fail in an accident, which will hopefully absorb some of the dead blow effect (like a crumple zone). I secured the slamstop framing to the ply floor with dominoes.

I installed the false floor ply in sections, which allows for future (and easier) alterations, and provided removable panels for easy-access to other tools. All corners and edges of the ply here—and anywhere else in the racking—should be beveled.

Since the Festool track has neoprene anti-slip runners on its underside, it has to be transported upside down. A length of UPVC soffit board on the ply lining bed allows the track to slide in easily. A second piece, ripped narrower and glued to the first, prevents the track from sliding sideways and damaging the guide edge.

Bulkhead Storage

Bulkheads tend to follow the shape of the seats in the back of the cab—down low will provide space for larger, longer items, and high up will provide space for smaller items. Bulkheads often have ribs that make for useful fixing points.

I attached two different battens to the ribs, one above and one below the viewing window, which gave a vertical fixing area. I then temporarily screened a 3/4-in sheet of ply with a cut-out for the viewer. This became the back panel to a face frame/box beam cabinet. I couldn’t put any ribs down low, so I found that bonding a 1/2-in. sheet of ply to the steel was a good solution.

Since I installed ribs to the back panel for strength, shelving, and storage, I re-hung the cabinet as a single unit. Before installing a face frame, I bonded shelves for Kapex extension legs and the Festool crosscut system to the raked bulkhead ply below the unit.

I then installed a 1/2-in. ply face frame to bind the bulkhead storage spaces into a single unit, and I incorporated the slamstop, which I fixed to the floor through the Kapex extension leg storage and the installed unit around the viewing panel.

In the end, these storage areas also had space for a 36-in. wrecking bar, a yard broom, and a counter top routing jig (see photo, right).

Partial Rebuilds Aren’t Uncommon

I built the lower bulkhead storage so that everything could be slid in and out through the side door. However, once finished it didn’t feel right! The Kapex extension legs are an irregular shape, both on plan and side view. Sliding an irregularly shaped object into place requires a regular oblong space, built to the maximum dimensions of the item. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking you have to live with something that doesn’t make your job easier.

I decided the solution was to face-load the extension legs, which gave me more room and increased the shelf sizes around the viewing panel (those bugged me the most).

Unscrewing the face frame was easy—that’s why screws should be the first option for mechanical fixings for racking; besides, nails loosen within weeks in a moving van. I extended the box beam to get more useful shelf sizes by gluing and pinning 3/4 x 3/4 with 16-gauge nails. Since the box beam takes a good deal of weight, I fixed the new face frame with longer screws so the 16-gauge nails weren’t structural, nor was the PVA glue.

Around four hours spent on a rebuild is nothing compared to years of frustration loading a van with a poor detail.

Maximizing Storage Capacity

Having drawn around the Kapex on its stand with duct tape, it can be left until later.

After laying out enough space for the Kapex,

I installed vertical supports for the tool box shelving.

Be sure to plan locations for odd-shaped tools before tackling all the tool boxes. I included a spot for my compressor that was easy to access.

But later, I realized I had to store my dust collector there!

Because I use my compressor on almost every job, and because it’s HEAVY, I found it handy to keep the compressor closer to the doors—after all, the dust collector is on wheels! Yes, expect to make several modifications to your layout plan.

Tool Box Storage

Now, on with the quick part of a racking job: the carpentry tools that come in boxes!

The regular footprints of systainers make them ideal for maximizing the storage capacity of a van. But other makers in the European market use the same boxes, like Metabo. All toolmakers buy boxes from Tanos. Hilti’s HIT chemical anchor system is sold in a different box, but the footprint is the same.

With careful layout, I was able to accommodate my large double-size systainer above the dust collector, along with a standard Festool box and a Sortainer.

Accommodating half a dozen boxes from several makers feels slower than accommodating Tanos boxes—you need to spend time coming up with a standard footprint that suits the boxes you have. I rack sections for these other tools in separate vertical racks to those for the Tanos footprint.

My biggest fear is that Festool will come out with another must-have tool. Then I’ll have to do a little more remodeling to my racks

Removing the innards of a Festool box means that more than one tool can be transported in a single box. One of my boxes now carries three sanders, and the other two didn’t go to waste!One has both a Fein MultiMaster and Metabo die grinder—both tools always get used on the same types of work.

Another box, with suitably modified innards, holds a 16-gauge angled Paslode gas nailer (this means I have one less awkward-sized Paslode box to worry about).

Biscuit joiners fit into systainer boxes, and even Lamello ditched their trademark wooden boxes in favor of Tanos. All 4-1/4 inch angle grinders will fit with plenty of room for spare blades.

All of these space-saving and storage techniques translate directly into your shop storage, too. No shop is ever big enough!

Production Techniques

Having used face frame construction for the complicated bulkhead, I turned to the European system of cabinet making for the tool box storage. In essence, the system uses standard side elements and standard tops. The shelves are not movable, so they are the same as the tops. There are no 32mm hole positions to bother with!

The standard tops and shelves in van racking need a cutout in the front to allow you to pull out the boxes. I always install a hole centralized over the Tanos box handles, since seeing through solid shelves isn’t possible, and this makes box removal easier. It also makes for useful fixing points, so you can strap down materials or objects carried in the body of the van.

I made the width of the shelves 3/8 to 1/2 in. wider than the boxes. The depths of the shelves are all liable to be different—each one needs to be scribed to the back of the unit (the ply lining). Just make a template for the shelf and rout away!

Similarly, the sides of the units are all the same regardless of the back scribe. The heights are all the same because your roof layout boards are parallel to the bed. The top part of the scribe is the same on all the sides, where the ply lining and roof meet.

The top part of the scribe must be loose, so allow about 3/8, as all vans have wiring looms in this area. This “scribe” can be done once, as a template, and then transferred to all the sides you make. Scribes against the ply lining need to be accurate and should have a 1/8-in. to 3/16-in. gap. This gap will be filled with a sealant/adhesive. Using caulking shapers will increase the strength of the joint. Tight scribes squeak, and no standard wood glue lasts long in this position. The movement of the van will eventually pop glue joints or even crack the wood itself.

Prevent your tools from crashing to the floor

The three simplest ways to prevent your tools or boxes from crashing to the floor when you’re driving are back-angling the shelves, shelf upstands, or dowels. In a racking job, you will use at least two, possibly all three. Other methods are just too clever to use in a moving toolbox.

Back angling shelves often works well. Nine degrees is a good number for soft tool bags, but for solid objects or boxes, you’ll have a point load. Point loads always squeak in a van.

Shelf upstands—or recesses—are a good solution, but they reduce the vertical space available for other boxes. Of course, for some tools recesses or cut-outs are best: they don’t have to be just along the face of the shelf. Wormdrive saws typically don’t come in boxes, and a piece of ply with a cutout that’s the same size as the baseplate for a sidewinder is an effective upstand. You’ll obviously need a slot in the shelf for the blade guard, too.

In my opinion, the most efficient option is a flat “shelf” with dowels. Dowels do the same job as a fixed shelf upstand, with no loss of vertical space, especially if the dowels are removable. Dowels also increase shelf width more than an upstand, and I believe this system wins based on efficiency.

Miller dowels are the best for the job, although it isn’t obvious because they are designed for a tight fit for joinery purposes.When racking, you enlarge the hole slightly so the dowels are removable. Drill a 10-mm. hole through the shelf to take a Miller dowel (10 mm. is half a millimetre larger than the first 3/8 shank of the dowel). The 1/2-in. head of the dowel stops it from falling through, and forms the upstand. The 10-mm. hole also makes the dowels easy to remove, but tight enough so that vibration won’t “jump” them out.

Don’t crowd the rear door pillars

All vans have wiring looms in the rear door pillars. These are good access points for bulb changing or electrical connections, or bolts for changing out complete lamp assemblies. Anything in this area must be easy to remove. The rule is if you can’t get your hand in, or get a ratchet on a nut, neither can your mechanic.

The nooks and crannies are up to you

Having built the racking to this stage, there will be nooks and crannies all over the place. Of course, you’ll need every single one of them if you plan to store all the requisite caulking, sealants, glue, adhesives, etc.

The rest of the job is up to you, your imagination, and the tools and sundries you need to carry. Guys needing to transport large numbers of Bessey K clamps will find rows of plastic waste pipe ideal. I recommend putting a back rake on the tubes so they don’t shoot out.

Here’s the van, fully racked and loaded:

• • •

AUTHOR AUTOBIO

I learned how to renovate houses at my Mum’s knee, not my Dad’s. We moved from house to house restoring Victorian and Georgian buildings whose features had been ripped out in the “modernization” of the 1950s/60s. Then came half a dozen English timber framed houses in the 250 to 500 year-old-range. Mum was an artist, a ceramic restorer, and wove tapestry for relaxation. In her spare time….?! She also did guilding!

I speak in the past tense because she now has Alzheimer’s, but we’ve found her a care home which is full of architectural details that she loves.

I’ve been in construction all my working life. (I didn’t “make it” at the 16-year-old exams at school and ended up in what we call “technical college.”)

I was second in command of a 253 million (pounds sterling) job—the A13 road out from Canary Wharf. Of that 253 million sterling, I was personally responsible for 80 million pounds (sterling). My smallest sub-contract was 5 million sterling.

Now I’m a carpenter, and small-time contractor. And I mean small.

When you walk into a custom home, an old Victorian or an old Colonial, one of the first and most impressive sights is the stair. There it is in the great room. Graceful. Elegant. It is often the biggest piece of furniture in a home and one of the most valuable ornamental assets.

Or is it?

Is it graceful? Is it beautiful? Was it built by the hand of an old-time craftsman? Was it built for the house, or chosen from some catalog of cheap foreign-made parts?

Chances are, if you have an old Colonial or a Victorian home, the stair was designed according to traditional geometry based on natural rules for elegance and form. It was built by hand out of carefully chosen materials. The handrail was carved using time-honored tangent geometry, sharp chisels, a trained eye, and real human sweat. If that’s the case, I bet a century or two after it was made, people are still impressed with the look and feel of your railing, and the amount of skill it took to make it.

On the other hand, if you walk into a modern custom home, there is a good chance you will find a catalog stair complete with machine-made parts designed not from natural forms or classical elements, but for the ease of the machining. Sure, they are an approximation of those old cherished forms, but they are a poor approximation at best (sort of like big-box furniture). This is not to say that the only good styles are old styles. I have made many beautiful handrails in modern styles using tangent handrail geometry. Styles may change over time, but geometry doesn’t.

Catalog stairs have their place dressing up lower value homes or McMansions, but to my disappointment, they are rapidly becoming the standard in high-value custom homes, too. There are two reasons for this. The first is economic. Often, a builder or homeowner is trying to cut costs, which is understandable but wrongheaded. Do you really think that the biggest piece of furniture—the centerpiece of a multi-million dollar home—is the place to cut corners? Do you think anyone a hundred years from now will be impressed with how much money the builder saved? How about five years from now? Will anyone say “Wow! Look at that stair! I’ll bet they really saved some money there!” Would you want that?

The other reason machine-made faux stairs continue showing up in custom homes is that many builders, homeowners and architects don’t know that it is still possible to get high-quality, hand-made custom stairs with furniture-grade handrails. They may believe that carving is a lost art or a quaint hobby for retirees. They don’t know that professional woodcarvers are still around. They think those kind of skills died out with the dinosaurs—it’s too difficult, too expensive. Many builders and designers think that catalog stairs are all that’s available. Not true. Not true at all!

Hi, my name is Mike Kennedy, and I carve handrails for a living.

I’ve been carving wood professionally for 25 years. I started carving effigy pipes in my teens and twenties, traveled extensively—carving and performing with wooden marionettes—and worked for several stair companies carving handrail and architectural elements.

I am going to show you how I carve rail using modern tools and techniques to make quality rail parts efficiently and affordably. Yes, someone still does that! You can, too.

One Volute, Four Patterns

If you read the last article in this series, Jed Dixon’s story, Drawing A Volute, then you already know about the drawings and the patterns. If you haven’t read that story yet, then STOP and read it before reading this article!

(Click any image to enlarge. Hit your browser's "back" button to return to this article.)

For the spiral and wreath that I am about to carve, I need four patterns. The first is a plan view of the spiral section, wreath, and a length of straight rail. I use this pattern when I assemble the pieces to make sure the angles are correct and that the pieces fit properly. This pattern gets taped to my workbench or a nice level surface (see photo, right).

Next are two copies of the plan view of the spiral section itself. These two are identical to the first pattern, but without the wreath and straight rail. One spiral section pattern is glued to a 10/4 block of mahogany (planed to the finished thickness of the rail) to be sawn to shape (more on that next), and the other is glued to a piece of 3/4- in. plywood to be used for a shaper pattern.

The fourth pattern is in two parts: A side view, and a top stretched view of the wreath. These two can be drawn as one pattern to be folded and glued to the wreath block (see section “Layout the wreath” in “Drawing a Volute”). Occasionally, the top stretched view is longer than the block (when the curve continues through the end of the block); in that case, I glue the top pattern to a thin (1/8-in.) piece of plywood to hold the pattern up where it comes off the top end of the block. The side view is glued on the block directly.

Align the Grain

In order to conserve wood, I chose 10/4 mahogany for the spiral section and 12/4 mahogany for the wreath (the wreath must twist, and therefore needs to be thicker than the spiral section). Because I’m using different pieces of wood, I need to be sure they match in color and grain as closely as possible. It’s also important that there are no defects, such as knots or checks in the pieces.

The grain direction is very important in placing the patterns on the wood. I prefer the grain to run across the curve of the wreath as long as possible, which gives the piece the most strength. It also makes the glue joint stronger because I’m not gluing end grain. The grain in my rectangle wreath block is then somewhat diagonal in relation to the grain of the stock.

I also like the grain on the spiral section to line up with the crotch, where the inside of the level rail joins the spiral section. This strategy also makes carving that inside joint easier later.

Once I figure out the grain direction, gluing the spiral section pattern is pretty straightforward. Just spray some adhesive and smooth the pattern in the direction of the grain (see photo, above). In a few minutes, it’s ready for the bandsaw.

The wreath block grain must be diagonal and the side that gets the side view pattern must be smooth and square to the end of the block. These are glue joints, so they have to be precise. Once the wreath block is cut out, the pattern is folded and carefully glued on with spray adhesive.

The wreath must be cut at the pitch of the stair, so I first cut the bottom edge or wedge off the block.

Next, I glue the wedge to the back of the wreath block using hot glue, which adds a broader base to the block, and makes it much easier to hold the wreath safely and firmly at the pitch angle while cutting out the shape.

Before taking the piece to bandsaw, I extend points P-4 and P-5, drawing in sides of the rail profile on the upper end joint;

I also square the two lines of the rail from the side view pattern across the upper end joint. ( See “Layout the ellipses” in “Drawing a Volute,” and this video)

Bandsaw the rough shapes

Cutting out the spiral is pretty simple—just be sure to stay slightly outside of the line. I cut the inside of the spiral first, right to the eye, where I have to stop the blade and back out. Next, I cut the outside of the spiral, all the way around to where it meets the inside curve, where I stopped my first cut. The third and final cut is straight across the grain creating the joint between the spiral and the wreath. This must be absolutely straight. I clean this cut on a sanding disc or with a block plane for a nice flat joint (see photo, above).

Next, I cut the wreath, starting with top pattern. The trick here is to support the piece as the bandsaw blade cuts toward the upper joint. I usually cut the outside first, then the inside.

Once both pieces are cut, I take them over to the pattern that I taped to my worktable and make sure they fit over the plan view. Then I clean the paper pattern and the glue off of the wreath joint, and make any minor adjustments, before joining the two pieces.

Join the wreath and spiral

There are several different types of hardware available for joining handrail.

I prefer Tite-joint fasteners because they allow me to adjust the pieces, and they work with any rail profile (www.knapeandvogt.com).

To install them, I drill a 7/8-in. hole on the bottom of the wreath about 1 1/2 in. from the end, usually centered. I do the same on the spiral.

Next, I drill 7/16-in. holes in the ends of both pieces, 3/4 in. from the bottom. I drill all the way through the 7/8-in. holes and beyond them about 1/2 in.

Then I drop the nut in one of the 7/8- in. holes and thread the bolt in partway through the 7/16-in. hole (it doesn’t matter whether it is the wreath or the spiral).
Afterward, I insert the opposite end of the bolt in the other 7/16-in. hole, drop the clip in, and tighten.
If the joint is nice and tight, and the assembled pieces fit over the plan view layout, it’s time to begin shaping the rail profile.

Carving starts on the shaper

Before carving any pieces of rail, I run all of the straight rail needed for the job, plus a short section to be cut into samples for carving. I never start carving blindly. It’s much easier to start carving off a section of straight rail, so I temporarily join a short piece of rail to the upper end of the wreath with a tite-joint fastener. The bottom end of the wreath is joined to the spiral.

I don’t carve the spiral blindly, either. In fact, the spiral section of the volute can be “shaped” on the shaper, which provides a good starting point for carving the remainder of the volute—and that must be accomplished before carving the bottom of the wreath. I should make this clear: because the wreath twists, both ends must be started before carving the center. The short section of straight rail makes it easy to start the top of the wreath; carving the entire spiral makes it easier to start carving the bottom of the wreath.

To run the spiral on the shaper, I set the shaper knives off a bearing guide, which enables the use of a plywood template—believe me, you don’t want to hold the spiral in your hands when running it through the shaper! The spiral must be secured safely to a template, which means the knives have to be set to cut flush with the template bearing guide.

To make the template, we glue a copy of the paper plan view pattern to a piece of 3/4-in. plywood, then bandsaw to the line of the spiral.

The template must be perfectly smooth; a wood rasp or file cleans up any rough edges.

Through-holes are drilled through the template…
…and counter sunk so they won’t interfere with shaping (if there’s a hand tool that does a job as well as a power tool, we prefer the hand tool).

Screws are fastened into the bottom of the spiral, where the holes will never show. In fact, we usually lay out the fastener holes at the center of the balusters, which is easy to do with a full-scale drawing.

After the template is screwed to the bottom of the spiral, we always double-check that the shaper knives are locked down tight. In our shop, we make it a rule that you have to yell “TIGHT” before turning on the shaper.

And before turning on the shaper, we always set a hold-down jig, to prevent an airborne catastrophe. Sure, our shop-made hold down may look strange, but it works. When running the spiral through the shaper, be careful to keep the knives away from the joint between the wreath and the spiral, otherwise the wood will “blow out” and ruin the joint.

Equally important, it’s best to keep the area around the joint fat, leaving the option of pushing some of the distortion of the wreath down into the spiral. Therefore, start in with a smooth cut forward of the joint by at least 3 in., keeping the shaper knives a good distance from the joint. Yes, that means more hand carving, but it’s better to carve a little more by hand than to ruin the entire piece!

Once the initial cut is made, follow the pattern all the way around until the knives exit the spiral. About three-quarters of the spiral can be ”shaped” by a machine. The rest must be carved by hand.

• • •

Keep Checking

Carving a complicated multi-dimensional shape is an act of confidence, and an act of faith: you have to be confident that you know what you’re doing, and you have to have faith in an image you can not see, at least with your eyes. That’s why I check the shape of the spiral and wreath block regularly, before and during the carving process.

Once the spiral is removed from the shaper template, and re-assembled to the wreath, I set both pieces on the plan view drawing and check the alignment with a Laser Bob. At that point, it’s easy to adjust the two pieces so that the wreath is perfectly plumb with the plan view drawing. And this isn’t the last time you’ll see me return to the plan view drawing. Whenever I need to get my bearings and sharpen my vision of the volute, returning to the plan view drawing always helps me “see” the final shape with more definition.

Sight Line Layout

To establish sight lines for carving, I begin on the bottom. With the wreath and spiral section connected, I bend a flexible batten around the outside of the wreath. I clamp one end of the batten so that it lies along the bottom line of the straight section and bend it around the wreath to the bottom of the spiral.

I want to be sure that the line of the batten is nice and fair, from the top of the wreath to the flat section of the volute. The best way to check that is by placing the volute back on the plan view drawing (see photo, left).

The outside line is fairly easy and relatively straightforward. The inside line is a little different. Again, the batten is clamped along the short straight section at the top of the wreath. But this time, the batten must be pushed down into the crotch of the spiral. On the inside, the line needs to drop much more quickly than it did on the outside, and it needs to level out by the time it gets to the spiral in order to create a flat and level spiral section.

Once the two bottom lines are drawn, the volute is turned upside down and put into a clamp for carving.

Carving

The two sides which are cut on the bandsaw already curve appropriately. What remains is to carve the top and bottom. If you recall from Jed’s description of drawing the volute, we intentionally add about three inches to the top of the wreath, making it much easier to transition to the straight rail. In other words, before carving the railing profile, it’s easier if the wreath is first carved into a nice fair twisting block. With a side angle grinder and a fairly aggressive carving disc, I can shape the bottom pretty quickly. First, I carve the bottom of the wreath at the upper joint to the straight rail, starting at the 3 in. mark.

Feel the wreath twist

Next, I rotate the volute in my vise, so I can “see” the curving twist of the wreath. Even without the inside and outside lines, I can see where the bottom of the wreath must be carved to connect with the flat spiral section. Once the bottom of the wreath is started, it is important that the lines and the surfaces look right as well as feel right. The feel of the twisting wreath is actually more important than following the drawn lines, after all, someone’s hand will follow the railing down the stair all the way to the crotch of the volute.

As the wreath twists, a slight amount of distortion occurs. This distortion must happen in order to make a square block appear to twist and bend around a curve. If I were to take a long rail-sized block of some flexible material and twist and bend it, it would begin to kink and fold; it wouldn’t flow. The trick is to make it look and feel like the long square block is bending and twisting without kinking or distorting. At this point we leave the realm of geometry and enter a more organic realm, which must be achieved through feel.

Using the lines to guide my eye, I carve the rest of the wreath bottom, but I also stop the grinder frequently and run my hand along the whole surface, feeling the flow. This is something I do throughout the entire carving process; usually with my eyes closed (although, I make sure no one is watching because that just doesn’t look right).

Cleaning it up with a spokeshave

It is important to check the piece right side up, too, and see if the bottom flows nicely and appears relatively level.

Clean up with a spoke shave

When I’ve gotten the bottom to where I like it, I clean it up with a spokeshave.

The bottom of the rail is flat, even though it twists through the wreath. I check the flatness with a Shinto Saw Rasp and clean up any irregularities left by the spokeshave, then sand it out to a nice smooth surface.

Once again, I set the volute on the plan-view drawing and check the shape before carving the top. With the bottom shaped into the finished twist, I’m able to scribe the top lines by following my fingers along the bottom edge.

I don’t use a batten to describe the top of the rail. The top is carved much the same way as the bottom, except that for the top I stick closer to the scribed lines. Like the bottom of the wreath, I start at the top joint to the straight rail—that same 3-in. section, with the side grinder. If you watch the videos, you’ll notice that I never use any of the power tools without ear protection, eye protection, and a dust mask!

Next, I reposition the volute in my vice and start from the lower flat section of the volute. It’s the same technique I used for carving the bottom of the wreath, so that the wreath is started from both known ends.

With the ends established, I grind out the center of the wreath, following the scribe lines and the feel of the twist. It may seem that there isn’t enough wood at the joint between the wreath and the spiral, but the geometry of the drawing is always correct. All I have to do is reveal the shape that is inside the block of wood.

I reposition the piece in my vise several times to find that shape, keeping the spiral flat, and rotating the piece around the eye of the spiral.

The top of the rail begins as a flat twisted block, too, following parallel with the bottom, so I use the Shinto Saw Rasp to flatten out the top, too, before I begin carving the railing profile. Because the twist is fairly sharp, the Shinto Rasp isn’t able to do a lot of work, but every little bit helps!

Once the shape is finished, the piece goes back on the plan-view drawing to be sure that the assembly falls plumb over the drawing, and that the shape looks and feels right.
The wreath should flow out of the spiral and up to the straight stub at the correct height and pitch. It should look smooth and natural. But as I said earlier, it must feel smooth and natural before carving the railing profile.

Carve the Cove

At this point I can “see” the rail all the way through the wreath, so carving is simply a matter of removing anything that doesn’t look like a handrail. I say it’s a simple matter because I use a pragmatic, step-by-step process for laying out and carving the profile. The first step is laying out the bottom lines. I scribe the edge of the railing bead and take those lines along the bottom side of the wreath and spiral, to show how much stock to remove (see photo, left).

The same goes for the sides. But here I’m marking the “cove” of the handrail profile. You can see the job ahead by placing the die grinder against the straight rail.

For most handrails the cove is a 1-in. radius. Looking at the end of the wreath, I mark where the radius meets the side of the wreath and then scribe those lines down the outside of the wreath and the remaining parts of the flat spiral that still need to be carved—where the shaper finished.

Distort the Cove

If I could cut a section from any finished wreath, right in the middle of the twist, it wouldn’t look square; it wouldn’t match a slice taken off the straight rail; the inside of the rail would be a little shorter than the outside. That’s because, when I carve the top of the rail as it twists through the wreath, I lean the profile slightly to the inside. I’ve learned from experience that if I don’t distort the wreath slightly, the top will appear to be leaning or sliding slightly toward the outside. If I pinch the rail toward the inside, just a little, I can overcome that illusion. The best place to hide this distortion is in the “cove,” because it’s not measurable by eye—there are no crisp reveal lines in a cove shape the way there are in other details of the railing profile.

I use the pencil lines as guides, to see the depth and height of the stock that has to be removed and to gauge how much I need to distort the carving. If the height of the line is 1 1/4 in. from the bottom on the outside of the wreath, I make the inside 1 in. to 1 1/8 in. from the bottom, depending on how tight the twist is. By starting the distortion about 3 in. from the end of the wreath (the straight rail joint), and carrying it all the way to the end of the spiral, no one ever picks up on the slight variation, but this deliberate distortion is critical for making the rail look more natural.

Once those lines are drawn, I cut them in with a utility knife, which does two things: first, it helps prevent the wood from chipping out while carving, and second, it keeps the lines visible while working; otherwise, the graphite from the pencil rubs off or becomes covered with dust once I start carving.

A die grinder does the rough out

I do my best to position the piece in my vise so that I can see as much of the volute as possible, including the flat part of the spiral that has been profiled on the shaper, the outside of the wreath, and the straight-rail section. As I carve, I’m really connecting the dots—connecting the volute profile to the straight-rail profile, starting at the top of the wreath, where it’s easiest to see the straight-rail profile. I use an electric die-grinder with a 1-in. ball cutter to remove stock quickly.

I should mention here that I always wear ear and eye protection and a dust mask when operating power tools. You may notice, if you watch the videos, that I also have ear buds for my mp3 player. The ear buds are sound dampening and when worn with protective headphones, they block so much noise that I can keep the music at safe decibels and still rock out while working. I prefer mostly instrumental music like fusion, progressive rock, or jam band when I work—though, for this project, I was into Frank Zappa (Hot Rats and Joe’s Garage).

I’m fairly aggressive with the die-grinder. This is not hobby carving. This is industrial strength wood removal. I crank up the tunes and get right to it, eating the wood away quickly.

The die-grinder removes the bulk of the material and comes very close to the right shape. It quickly roughs out the profile of the handrail. I don’t want to spend too much time trying to be perfect about it. This is rough cut. I clean up the details later with sharp chisels.

When the 1-in. ball won’t reach all the way into the crotch of the spiral, where the profile closes in on itself…
…I switch to a 1/2-in. and then a 1/4-in. grinding ball. Once all the rough work is complete, I roll out my chisels.

Razor-sharp chisels finish the job

I keep my chisels razor sharp. I test them by shaving the hair on my forearm…if they can’t shave me clean, with no razor burn, then they must be sharpened.

One time, I was on a site fairing some rail pieces together. I had my chisels laid out on the stair when along comes this plumber. (It’s always a plumber, isn’t it? And they’re usually named Joe). Joe asks if my chisels are sharp.

“Yes” I said, “they are razor sharp. Don’t touch them, or you’ll get cut.” Of course the first thing Joe does is touch the business end of a wide gouge. ”Hey, I’m bleedin’!” Joe yells, holding a finger with a 1/4-in.-deep gouge cut, bleeding like a spring creek. ”I told you not to touch it!” I screamed at him. “Now look what you’re doing! Getting blood all over my stair!” Was the guy expecting sympathy?

For this rail profile, I use a 1-in. radius fishtail gouge and a #5 fishtail gouge. I’ve ground a back bevel on the concave side of each of these chisels so that I can hold the handle away from the work and carve convex shapes. These chisel profiles are for rounding over the top of the rail and the big bead on the side of the profile.

Detail the spiral

If my chisels match the exact profiles of the handrail elements, the volute can be carved to within sanding range fairly quickly and easily. There is one problem spot, however: inside the crotch of the spiral (see photo, below). The handrail profile should look like it flows all the way down the wreath and around the spiral to meet itself. The problem is what to do with that intersection, inside the crotch.

Ugly machine-made volutes are made without defining that spiral intersection, without a definite crotch, so a shaper or CNC cutter can cut the profile easily. Ugly machine-made volutes don’t join the rail, they swell out of the rail like a tumor. Beautiful, traditional, custom volutes scroll from the spiral into the rail—the rail should seem to scroll out of the spiral. This means there must be a sharp joint at the crotch where the two meet, similar to a miter joint. I make sure to carve a nice sharp miter on the bottom of the spiral for just that reason.

Some guys don’t spend too much time on this detail because it is what I call a heart attack view: The only way anyone notices this view is if they have a heart attack and fall down. The last thing they’d see, looking up toward heaven, would be my carved miter joint. I spend the extra 10 minutes making this joint nice because I want that fellow’s last words to be: “Nice job carving that spiral…ach…”

We make a high-end product and we are paid for it—of course not nearly enough, but it is these details that make it “high end,”not just the price. It is always worth spending a few extra minutes to make the piece “right” from every angle.

Carving the top of the volute

The top of the spiral at the crotch is a special and different situation. The traditional way to carve this detail is with a nice clean intersection carved to a miter—a mirror image of the bottom. That solution is time-honored and perfectly acceptable, but not for me. I like to thumb my nose once more at the machine-mades by making the top of the spiral sculptural.

First, I mark where the center of the newel post would be if it came all the way through the spiral.

Then I extend the line that would be the miter into a slowly tightening scroll that creates the eye of the volute.

Once the line looks right, and the rail gets steadily smaller as it gets toward the center, I can then carve it as if it were a very long miter.

I want the finished rail to look like it grows and scrolls out of the center of the newel post.

Once I’ve ground and carved the wreath and spiral, it is time to sand them out. I start with 36 grit garnet paper. Most of the work has been done with my carving tools, so it is a matter of sanding off the tool marks. Occasionally I have to refine the shape with my chisels. Mostly, I listen to loud music and just sand the hell out of it. After sanding with 36 grit paper, I take it to 50 grit, then stop until the bead is finished.

Add the bead last

Now it’s time to glue the wreath and spiral together permanently. First, I check the assembled pieces over the plan view drawing one last time to make sure that everything still lines up over layout. I make any last minute adjustments, then mark lines across the joint so that I can line it up precisely after applying the glue.

Once the pieces are glued and tite-jointed together, I plug the tite-joint holes with 7/8-in. bungs. After the glue dries, the bungs are pared off, and the whole assembly is sanded with 80 grit sand paper.

At this point, the volute is complete except for the bead at the bottom of the profile. For this last detail I make a special bead scratcher out of spring steel or cabinet scraper stock. To make this tool I grind the steel until it has the shape of the bead referenced off the bottom of the rail. The scratcher must be sharp at the top of the bead and must be shaped so that it only scrapes the bead and not the side or bottom of the rail.

The scraper has two beads ground into it so that I can cut into grain from either direction. When the shape is right, I spark off the scraper to raise a slight bur. It is called a “scratch bead” because I literally scratch it into the surface of the rail. Starting lightly, I carefully scratch and scrape the bead into the rail deeper and deeper until the shape is just right.

In very little time, I scrape the bead on the volute all the way up past the wreath to where it joins the straight rail. This section is left unshaped until after the installation. Once all the railing is installed, I fair the rail joint, and then the bead, for a nice, smooth transition. For now, all shop carving and scraping are finished; the piece can be sanded from 80 grit to 180 grit. After installation the finishers can continue sanding as much as they’d like.

So that’s how I do what I do. It doesn’t really take long from start to finish—maybe two and a half days, which, in the scheme of things, is a small difference in cost, especially when you compare the huge difference in quality between a hand-carved furniture-quality volute and a machine-made fast-food volute. A fine home deserves nothing less.

If you find yourself wanting to try this at home, my suggestion is: “DON’T!”

If you still want to try this, let me suggest the bucket trick: find a bucket and fill it with ice and water. Think about carving a rail and then stick your head in the bucket!

If that doesn’t work, then read this article carefully a few times, sharpen your tools until you scan shave with them, pick out some rockin’ music, and have at it. Become one with the wood (you will wear, eat, and breathe wood dust before it’s all over!) and your tools (they may also enter your body if you are not careful).

Or better yet, just call me. That’s what I do… I’m a woodcarver!

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• • •

AUTHOR BIO

Mike Kennedy lives in the rural town of Foster, RI with his wife and their two teenage offspring. When not carving handrail, he enjoys art, sculpture, and playing music on his own handmade guitars. He also enjoys gardening, bow hunting, horseback riding, and generally running around in the forest. Mike Kennedy: Woodworker, Sculptor, Luthier, Musician, Wildman.