Despite my Southern friendliness, I have bit of a mean streak.

On Thursday we visited George Walker's home and workshop in Canton, Ohio, to shoot some photos for his upcoming articles on furniture design for Popular Woodworking.

We scouted the first floor of his house and looked at a very nice tall case clock he built, plus a drop-dead gorgeous secretary. Both are in kicking tiger maple (Mr. Walker has a tiger maple monkey on his back).

When we met to pick a project to feature in the photograph, I chose a nailed-together pine boot bench with a routed heart-shaped cutout on either end.

"This piece would nicely show off your ideas about whole-number ratios and column orders, don't you think?" I asked.

"I was just taking that piece to the curb," Walker said.

After that wild piece of hilarity, Walker showed us around his shop in his basement. The workshop's centerpiece is a Frank Klausz-inspired workbench and a wall of hand tools. Walker, a long-time woodworker, uses surprisingly few machines. He has a 1949 Delta Unisaw, a lathe, a drill press and a planer out in the garage. Everything else is hand tools.

As Art Director Linda Watts and Photographer Al Parrish worked on setting up the photos, I shot a few other photos of Walker's cozy shop, shown below.

My favorite workshop accessory: A faded upholstered easy chair.

"What shop doesn't have a chair like that?" Walker asked.

I now know what my shop at home is missing.

— Christopher Schwarz

Linda and Al working on a test image.

Some of Walker's planes in the cabinet behind his bench.

Walker's hanging tool cabinet.

Though I need another sliding bevel like I need a goat in my living room, I recently ordered one of the new sliding bevels from Chris Vesper Tools in Australia and have been putting it through its paces.

I reviewed Vesper's sliding bevels in the April 2009 issue of Popular Woodworking. I also wrote about Vesper for the Fine Tool Journal – you can read the article for free here. Yes, Vesper is that young. (One female editor on our staff has used the word "cherubic" – not "Cherubinic.")

If you are too lazy to click though the link above, let me boil down the story: Vesper makes the best sliding bevel I've ever used. This is both very difficult and very easy to do. It's easy to make a really good sliding bevel because almost all of them on the market suck eggs. They don't lock well. Or when they are locked, the locking mechanism won't let the tool lay flat on the work.

Do the manufacturers not actually use this tool?

Vesper's bevels use a locking mechanism based on an old patent. And it locks down better than anything else I've ever used. And the locking knob never – repeat, never – gets in your way.

So what's new about this particular bevel? There's no wooden infill. Instead, Vesper added a nice engraving on both faces of the tool. This actually reduces the cost of the tool a bit. And in my opinion, it looks as nice as the one with the infill.

These don't come cheap. The 7" bevel cost about $160 U.S. – what with the sorry state of the U.S. dollar compared to the Australian dollar. But I like Vesper's work, and was more than happy to open my wallet in the name of a bevel I don't have to worry about every time I reach for it during a project.

— Christopher Schwarz

Congratulations to Randy Klein and his family for their portrayal of Norm Abram at all phases of his life, from a small mischievous boy up to a full-grown bearded woman (just kidding about that, Mr. Abram).

The Kleins won via universal acclaim for several reasons: Convincing an entire family to do something this crazy, and the looks on the kids' faces. We suspect the kids are all up to no good and we're glad to see safety glass on the whole lot.

The Kleins win a "New Yankee Workshop" coffee mug that is autographed by Norm Abram himself. Abram signed the mug for Publisher Steve Shanesy. Randy Klein has three choices: keep the mug as-is, rub off Steve's name or Randy can change his name to "Steve." We're also going to throw in a two-year subscription to either Popular Woodworking or Woodworking Magazine – just because we can.

We've posted some of our other favorites in a Flickr slideshow, which you can view here. Below are some of our favorite runners-up:

OK, we're suckers for kids dressed like Norm.

Three generations of Norm! Excellent.

This footwear isn't so good for the shop – no steel toes.

— Christopher Schwarz

I finished up building a set of try squares based on Andre Roubo's 18th-century plans this weekend and need to put the finish on them. What's holding me back? Well, I keep using the squares and getting pencil marks on the blades, which need to be removed before I can finish them.

I really like these try squares. Though the blade is more than 13-1/2" long, the whole square weighs only 7 ounces. Its stock is narrower than that of a traditional rosewood and brass square, and I'm surprised by how comfortable the square is to hold, carry and use.

Plus, I really like the traditional look. The cavetto in the stock and the ogee shape on the blade add a little flair to a usually rectilinear (read: boring) tool. Plus, they were a blast to make. All of the elements of construction required great care, but because the tool is so simple, it never got tedious (like when you have to dovetail an entire chest of drawers).

Those people who have a Starrett addiction are probably shaking their heads right now and fondling their dial calipers to comfort themselves. Won't these wooden squares be inaccurate? Even if you did square them to .001" along their length, they certainly wouldn't stay that way. They are, after all, made of wood.

I'm not in the least bit worried. I used well-seasoned, quartersawn stuff that I prepared with great care. The squares are quite square enough for woodworking. Besides, I have found that my accuracy isn't contained in my measuring tools. It's in my eyes, my fingers and the ultimate fit of the parts. Fussing over the minute accuracy of tools is like fussing over a smoothing plane to make it remove sub-thou shavings. It misses the point. The point is the finished product, not the tool's setup.

I documented the entire process of building these squares, and we're going to offer complete downloadable plans for the square at a nominal cost. It will include photos, text, the SketchUp drawing, full-size templates and instructions for building and truing the squares so they are as accurate as possible. We even shot a little video.

Look for it next week.

— Christopher Schwarz

I quite like round dog holes in workbenches. They are easier to install than square dogs, plus you can use a wide variety of other bench gizmos in them.

But they can have a dark side. I have the Veritas brass dogs in my bench(es), and  used them for many years without incident – until last week.

I had a dog up a little too high and slammed the iron of a jack plane against it. The good news is that the dog didn't scrape the plane's sole. The bad news is that I have a grinding chore ahead of me to repair the iron.

I've been contemplating making some wooden round dogs, but I've also been contemplating taking a carving class, installing a wooden floor in my shop, replacing the doors on my kitchen cabinets and buying a goat. You know how that goes.

— Christopher Schwarz

In honor of "International Dress Like Norm Day" (the official celebration begins tomorrow), a fair number of us dressed like our favorite television woodworker.

Because of the short notice, neither Megan Fitzpatrick nor Bob Lang had time to grow proper beards. But they are bearded on the inside, I promise you.

Don't forget to send in a photo of yourself dressed like Norm Abram and send it to me by midnight Monday, Nov. 2, at chris.schwarz@fwmedia.com. The person who sends in the best photo (as determined by our staff), will win a great prize. What's the prize? We're still working on that.

— Christopher Schwarz

Inspired by Robert W. Lang's article on making wooden try squares in the Autumn 2009 issue, I decided to make a batch of squares this weekend.

Yesterday at lunch I bought some quartersawn European steamed beech that was on sale at the local lumberyard. The clerk at the yard described it as "rustic," which must be a local Ohio term meaning "crap." I found one 12' board in the whole stack that had enough straight material suitable for making layout tools.

The price was right ($1.25 a board foot). And after a lot of handsawing and bandsawing last night I squeezed out enough beech to make seven squares and two nice bonfires.

Then the fun began.

And by fun, I mean translating 18th-century French. I spent an hour poring over "Le Menuisier En Batiment," one of Andre Roubo's volumes on the craft. He wrote specific instructions for the dimensions of a "triangle," which is what he calls a square. I translated those dimension to English and then to modern Imperical dimensions. A French inch (pouce) is equivalent to 1.066" in modern imperial. Each French inch is further divided into 12 "lines." Each line is equivalent to .088" today. The French foot is 12.44".

Then I checked Roubo's account against the try squares in Benjamin Seaton's tool chest. And surprise, Seaton's small wooden square is almost exactly the same size as Roubo's, though Roubo's is fancier.

But there was one curious detail about Seaton's three try squares. The text describing them says all three blades taper in thickness. One blade is described as tapering from 1/4" thick to 7/32". Because all three taper, I presume it was deliberate. But why?

To take some weight off the end of the blade?

To expose more end grain of the blade (sort of like in a coffin smoother or a traditional straightedge) to make the blade respond faster to seasonal changes in humidity?

Beats me. I drew up Roubo's square in SketchUp and plan to make a few of the squares with tapered blades. If Roubo mentioned tapering, I missed it.

I like it when the name of something is eponymous – it fits. Was there ever a woodworker who was more aptly named than the late "Art Carpenter?"

When I was working as a newspaper reporter, I dealt occasionally with a spokesman named "Woody Forrest." I don't even know if that guy was a woodworker. Why isn't my name "Woody Forrest?"

Instead, I've had to endure a name that (according to our dog-eared dictionary of baby names) means: A Christ-like war-monger who is black in color.

So when it comes to the names of handplanes, I get frustrated with names such as "jack" plane, "block" plane or "Jenny" plane. Those names don't really describe what the plane does. I much prefer names such as "rabbet" plane or "smoothing" plane.

To that end, I've been trying to clean up my language when talking or writing about planes. It's easy to get mired in even less-helpful terms such as "a No. 6 plane" or a "Stanley No. 141." As someone remarked to me once: "I'm sorry. I don't speak 'Stanley.'"

So here's how I organize my bench planes in my mind using historical names that imply their function.

Fore Plane: Sure, it sounds a bit ribald, but Joseph Moxon tells us that this tool, which is about 18" long, is called a fore plane because it is used "before" the other planes. You could call it a roughing plane if you like, but the name "fore plane" implies its function to me.

Try Plane: According to Charles Holtzapffel, a trying plane is 20" to 22" long and is used for flattening a panel or "trying its accuracy." The modern term for a tool that's this length would be a "jointer plane," but that's actually a confusing term in my book. When you make a board flat, you are trying it. So what better plane is there than a "try plane?" Thanks to the encouragement of Don McConnell at Clark & Williams planemakers, I now call my 22"-long metal-bodied plane a try.

Long Plane: In several old texts, a plane that is about 26" long or so is called a "long plane." What was it used for? Trying large surfaces with greater accuracy than a "try" plane. While "long" plane certainly describes the tool, it doesn't really describe its function. Maybe a better name would be a "long trying plane."

Jointer Plane: These tools are 28" to 30" long, according to Holtzapffel. Think about that for a minute. Do you have a metal plane that long? Probably not. That ginormous size is outside the Bailey metal-plane system. These super-long tools were intended for creating edge joints. Hence their name. I don't own a plane this long.

Smoothing Plane: The old-school definition of a smoothing plane is a tool that is about 6-1/2" long to 8" long and is the last plane to dress the wood. So "smoothing plane" is an apt word. Smoothing planes have gotten a little longer in modern time -- up to about 10" long. Even so, their job is the same: smooth the wood for finishing.

Other Planes
These purpose-driven names don't end with the bench planes. Rabbet planes make rabbets. Moulding planes make mouldings. Hollows and rounds make round and hollow shapes. Fillister planes supposedly cut "fillisters," a word that supposedly means a cross-grain rabbet.

The names of other joinery planes don't quite make the cut. The name "router plane" isn't ideal, but I'm at a loss for what else to call it. ("Old woman's tooth" or "hag's tooth" are equally odd names in my book.) Yes, the router plane "roots" like a pig looking for truffles, but that doesn't really capture its function. Perhaps it does so many tasks that it's hard to describe.

The plow plane does indeed plow the wood. But why not call it a "groove plane" instead? Well, this is where things fall apart for me. I like the alliteration and assonance in the term "plow plane."

So what should we rename the oddly named "block plane?"

Holtzapffel suggests "modelling" planes. So are these planes suitable only for making wooden models? We can do better than that.

— Christopher Schwarz

Add this to your favorites: George Walker has launched a new blog on furniture design that will supplement his column that will appear in every issue of Popular Woodworking starting with the February 2010 edition. Both the column and the blog are called "Design Matters."

Walker is the host of the excellent DVD "Unlocking the Secrets of Traditional Design," a short and information-packed introduction to the world of using simple proportions to draw pleasing furniture.

We were so impressed with Walker after meeting him that we asked him to write a regular column for Popular Woodworking. He agreed. We also suggested that a blog might be a good way to amplify his points in his columns. And he agreed again.

Walker's first post, "Good Eye," suggests why people tend to like frame-and-panel doors with a bottom rail that is wider than the top rail. It's definitely worth reading.

— Christopher Schwarz

We were all bummed about news last week that "The New Yankee Workshop" was ceasing production. And, in case you've forgotten, this Saturday is Halloween.

I think you see where this is going.

By the power vested in me by the Radio Shack Battery Club, I declare Saturday to be "International Dress Like Norm Day." This is the time to break out your flannel shirts, your tool belt, your safety glasses, your fake beard.

In honor of Norm Abram, we're asking all his fans to dress like the man, take a photo of yourself in costume and send it to me by midnight Monday, Nov. 2, at chris.schwarz@fwmedia.com. The person who sends in the best photo (as determined by our staff), will win a great prize. What is the prize, you ask? Well, it's one of two things. We have to dig through our archives to see if we still have them. But rest assured that if you like "The New Yankee Workshop" then you are going to want this prize.

Visit this blog later this week for more details on this point.

I'm encouraging/ordering the entire staff of the magazine to observe this important date (we're celebrating IDLND on Friday). However, some of us who shall remain nameless, are going to have to go shopping for flannel and safety glasses.

— Christopher Schwarz

I crossed the border from Missouri to Arkansas this afternoon, and I knew immediately I was home.

For starters, the land is achingly beautiful. I miss the Ozarks I grew up with, which are surprisingly unspoiled by development. Every curve in the rugged terrain brings a new vista. You might be high over a lake one minute, deep into a fog bank the next then spiraling down switchbacks the next.

The roads are magnificently contorted, narrow and treacherous. In other words, it's a fun drive.

The other evidence I was home is that my electronic devices began to malfunction. I entered my hotel's address in Eureka Springs into the Garmin on the dashboard. It promptly took me to Snaketown, a reptile farm six miles north of Eureka Springs, Ark.

I'm down here to interview Larry Williams and Don McConnell of the Clark & Williams planemaking company. I've known Williams and McConnell for many years, but I've never gotten to write about this remarkable little company, its interesting history and how they go about building their wooden-stock planes.

I arrived at their shop about 2:30 p.m. Thursday and we spent the next two-and-a-half hours just catching up. Then we went to dinner at an excellent little Italian restaurant and talked late into the evening. I've just now looked at my notebook. I don't think there's much there I can print. It's too wild.

I'm going to try again in the morning, but already I fear there is little chance I'll be able to do this story justice. That's because every question and comment leads down an interesting and odd side road.

For example: Snaketown. I told Williams and McConnell about how my GPS landed me there. Larry laughed and told a hilarious tale about his daughter's herd of bitey and impossibly fertile gerbils. And how Larry ended up taking the whole lot of them to Snaketown to become a little snack for the performing reptiles.

— Christopher Schwarz