The Secret Table
The Secret Table encloses a lift-up platform that rises or lowers when the two top leaves are opened or closed.
With glass sides and top, the contents are actually no secret, but they could be without glass.
This example with glass all around shows the contents inside on a suspended platform.
Lifting both top leaves raises the internal platform to produce your bar ware, '50's lunchbox collection, or fossil mammoth molar.
If secrecy is desired, the sides of your table can be made opaque to hide the contents from prying eyes until the table is opened and the platform raised.
This example is clean and lean, formed from alder with a light red chestnut stain.
Your custom-made Secret (or Not) Table can be any style you chose, from Arts & Crafts to Streamlined Moderne to Gothic.
Travel Bar Lean
A client – who oscillates between the Northeast and the Southeast – and for whom I had built a travel bar for his Carolina Cabin, wanted a second, slimmed-down Connecticut version holding only two bottles: Johnny Walker and Ketal One.
I suggested that we procure a pair of old-style bail and wire sealed bottles and then build the box around them. This is what I did.
The wood is cherry, box-jointed and lightly stained, then coated with urethane – 6 coats. All corners are trimmed in brass.
The inside is lined with green felt. A continuous hinge spans the back.
The client wanted an exotic handle, and so this travel bar sports a deer antler grip, the working parts brass.
Travel Bar with Accoutrements
The original travel bar – built for my own refreshment purposes – spawned sufficient interest that a slimmed-down version was requested by a client.
His needs were to elegantly and stylishly transport booze in a walnut case. A case which gives no clue as to its contents (although that is the result, it was not one of his requirements).
The case is walnut, box-joined, kerfed for 1/4" ply which form the face and rear of the door and case.
Inside are two mahogany partitions separating the case into three compartments. The floor is padded with green felt.
In order to lighten the presence of the dark walnut, I chose oak for the swiveling handle, both to lighten the overall tone, AND for rock solid physical integrity. The corners are trimmed with brass and round headed upholstery nails.
The ply face and back were stained to match the tone of the walnut – the final finish is 10 coats of urethane.
Also not requested by the client were the appurtenances I included inside the door: a pair of collapsible stainless steel cups, and a barman's helper. No harm in it, I figure; and likely of significant utility. No extra charge.
Curtis's Clock Spring Winder
My brother Curtis has become a clock nerd – Johnsonarts Approved. It seems that one of the fundamental tasks in restoring or maintaining a spring-driven clock is the safe removal and re-installation of the spring.
Joe Collins – who is a well regarded force of the National Association for Watch and Clock Collectors – provides us with his solution. See the video below of Joe demonstrating how it works.
All I did was tart the thing up.
In essence, what is wanted is a means to grab the spring arbor – the axle driven by the wound spring – and either wind or unwind the spring in a controlled manner.
The grabonski I chose was a 1/4" tap ratchet tap wrench 9" long.
Due to the exciting torsion of a winding and taut spring, some braking means is necessary. In this case a pair of jaws which can be tightened like those of a vise.
The second fundamental element: a means by which the hole in the end of the spring can be grabbed so that once grabbed onto, the wound-up torsion of the spring can be slowly, gradually, and safely unwound.
A hook can be used, but I chose a screw. This allows for different head sizes for smaller or larger springs.
Thirdly, I've included a post that can be slipped into the winding clevis for those springs having same and not a simple hole in the end.
Made of cypress, poplar and oak, with a bit of inlay just for fun.
Twyla Quilting Scraps Cabinet
My sister Marsha – keeper for the family artifacts – sent me a box from our grandmother Twyla's trunk. It contained quilting scraps, patterns, pages from old (circa 1940) magazines, and templates.
One template – a circular disc – was singular: centered was the picture of a demure young woman in half profile.
Why had my grandmother carefully cut this from something keeping the woman's face centered?
Your theories are solicited.
Anyway, I decided that these artifacts deserved a display cabinet with the mysterious woman's profile prominent.
Two doors with a center roundel on the left door behind which I would somehow array the disc.
The case was straightforward: edge-banded 3/4" ply joined with pocket hole screws.
So much for the easy part.
The chief challenge of the two doors was the joinery. Would 1/8" stub tenons be sufficient? Can I enhance the structural stability by using Gorilla Glue to adhere the glass into the frame kerfs?
I have had good success gluing glass to wood, but as you may know, Gorilla Glue foams as it cures. This foam is simple enough to scrape clear at a joint edge, but damnably difficult to clean away from the narrow gaps between the glass and the frame kerf.
Trying a new method, I diluted the glue with acetone, loaded a tiny syringe and tried to carefully minimize the glue application at the bottoms of the kerfs.
A little Gorilla Glue goes a long way.
This technique was, in the main, successful. I was a bit heavy in some places which resulted in glue spew and the requisite &#!*&!!%^**ing getting it off.
Now: the hinge mortises. I used a Rocker mortise jig. This jig is more attuned to larger cabinets – The Twyla is only about 65 x 60 cm.
Worse, the cutting edges of the pattern bit supplied with the jig are about a millimeter smaller than the bearing which follows the opening of the jig, which is supposed to mirror the footprint of the hinge. Oi!
But we soldier on, hinge mortises imperfect and as it turned out too deep; a fact discovered in the final fitting.
Of poplar with purpleheart trim and a clear urethane finish.