Quick Find: #201, #203, #205, #212, #220, #238, #239, #239 1/2, #248, #248A, #271, #278, #282, #283, #289, #292, #340, #378, #444
Hah, just when you thought all of Stanley's plane guts were strewn about the
information superhypeway, along comes some more road pizza. This time, there
are some bloody sights to behold....
This plane is identical to the #101, the toy-size block plane, except for its finish. This one is nickel plated, whereas the #101 is japanned. Collector alert - watch for re-plated #101's passed off as real #201's.
A smaller block plane
designed primarily for manual training use. The plane is somewhat scarce due to
its size and lack of bells and whistles. The same problems one can find on the
common block planes, like chipped/cracked mouths, stripped adjusters, cracks in
the lever cap, etc., can also be found on this plane, especially on those that
were on the receiving end of junior's abuse.
This plane has its cutter pitched at 20 degrees, and has a cutter adjustment
mechanism like that found on the #60, et al, although the sliding part of the adjuster
is not the same as that used on the low angle block planes but is like those
used on the #220. The plane might be mistaken for the first model of the #60 (those
without adjustable mouths) were it not for the pitch of the cutter and the fact
that "203" is usually cast below the cutter's adjustment knob.
There is no provision for mouth adjustment; i.e., the sole is one piece. The
front knob is turned rosewood (on the earlier planes) or hardwood (on the later
planes). The knob threads onto a threaded boss, and should you be in need of
one, you can snag one off a #110, #120, #140 (although the tool police might put you up against
a wall and ask why you would want to take a knob off a more valuable plane to
put on a cheaper one), and #220, et al.
Although this is a nice, functional plane, you may choose to leave this
plane for the kiddies, and get a larger one for the mature and muscular you.
This is a piece of junk that only a collector, when overtaken by a fit of momentary insanity, would ever dare own. Forget it as a user tool, since it's garbage. It was offered in a boy's tool set, but never as a separate plane, in Stanley's catalogs. It was offered separately in other catalogs (hardware firms), which ought to indicate that even Stanley was embarassed with this ugly baby.
The plane is pressed steel, and has a projecting steel palm grip which is
fastened to the bottom. A cheesy cutter securing mechanism is nothing but a
screw through a slotted hole in the cutter. The cutter is marked
"DEFIANCE", which says to me, whenever I see this plane, "I defy
you to buy me." Stay away from it, it's quicksand! Heck, it's not even
worthy as a projectile when you're looking for something to throw at your
neighborhood's stray cats.
A very small scraper
designed for very small work, with very small sales, all of which make it quite
rare. It's sorta the #1 of scrapers. It has the exact same blade adjustment
mechanism as that found on its larger siblings, the #12 and #112 which
ultimately inspired its design, only this one has a scaled down version.
Instrument makers (Stanley specifically mentioned violin makers in their
propaganda), flyrod makers, etc., were the people who may have found this plane
useful.
It has a turned knob, made of rosewood, similar to that found on a common
bench plane. There are some scarcer models that have a knob turned of mahogany.
These knobs tend to be a bit more elongated than the rosewood version,
something you can't tell unless you've seen both. The knob is mounted at the
rear of the casting, sitting atop an inclined boss of the casting, and is
oriented so that it leans backward to give the workman a better grip - it fills
the palm of his hand. The knob is attached with the common two-piece rod and
brass nut.
The tool has the Hand-y feature milled into the sides just like that found
on the block planes, but the milling is longer than that done on the block
planes. I've seen an example where the sides were chopped down to below the
Hand-y grip for some unfathomable reason.
The 'frog' (blade clamping assembly) is attached to the main casting via a
slotted screw that's been machined flush with the sides of the tool. The
pivoting section of the frog uses a similar screw to attach it to its
corresponding part. Check the casting of the pivoting section, where the screw
passes through it, for any sign of cracks or repairs. Also check where the
threaded rod joins the 'frog' for signs of damage.
This plane has been reproduced two times. The first time in an attempt to
fool the collectors. It's a poor job, and isn't nearly as good as the #1's
reproduction. The second reproduction is not done in an attempt to deceive
anyone, but is done as a modern working tool. This latter reproduction is cast
of manganese bronze, which even the untrained eye can spot as the
distinguishing feature from an original.
These planes are very difficult to find with their blades marked with any
Stanley logo. Consider yourself lucky if you have one. The model number is
embossed at the toe, under STANLEY that's cast in a 'scrolled' fashion. The
lever cap screw is non-plated brass and has STANLEY RULE & LEVEL Co. NEW
BRITAIN, CONN USA" stamped into it in fine lettering.
This plane is identical
to the #203,
except that it is larger. A more useful plane than the #203, but it's nice to
have an adjustable mouth, which this one, too, lacks. Weren't those guys at Stanley
considerate by offering us such a selection of block planes? On the plus side,
the plane is at least suitable for parts snarfing - the rosewood knob is
identical to the one provided on the more useful, and valuable, #140.
The plane is also very similar to the #120, but this one has the screw adjusting mechanism and
sliding cutter seat that are used liberally on the low angle block planes of
the #60 series. The lever cap is interchangeable with all the adjustable block
planes that have the same width iron, like the #9 1/2, which
also have the lever cap screw. The earlier examples will have the nickeled cast
iron adjusting screw; the one in the image is the common steel one with the
crosshatched knurling and incised with "STANLEY".
The example pictured here has the original decal on the lever cap, which was
used during the late 1920's to the early 1930's on many of Stanley's planes.
Planes and tools in this condition should be collected and not used; this plane
is easy enough to find in dogmeat usable condition, so there's no need to go
ruining a mint example of what's otherwise a bland tool.
This is a plane that
none of us will ever likely use. It was designed to cut the grooves in window
sash for the installation of weatherstripping. It really is an ugly little
monster, and is characterized by a circular hole in the main casting, which
accepts your first finger when gripping the plane. There's plenty of room for
all four fingers to wrap around the tote, and it seems strange that Stanley
provided this circular hole for finger comfort. Anyone out there have a
surviving relative who once labored in the weatherstripping trade what won't
mind your checking their meathooks?
A tiny depth stop is positioned just forward of the cutter - it measures
just 7/8" long. Seven cutters were provided with this plane - 1/8",
5/32", 3/16", 7/32", 1/4", 5/16", and 3/8". These
cutters sorta look like the cutters a machinist uses in a lathe. The right edge
of the cutter aligns with the right side of the skate.
If the plane's design, and function, aren't weird enough for you, certainly
you'll find the means to secure the cutter to be among the weirdest of any
Stanley plane. Two large slotted screws 'sandwich' the widest portion of the
cutter. These screws are milled so that they have a smaller diameter below the
head. The head of each screw bears down upon the cutter - one screw forward of
the cutter, and one behind the cutter - driving the cutter against the machined
area in the main casting. These screws each rest in a semicircular depression
of the main casting, and these areas can suffer chipping and cracking. Seems as
though someone at Stanley had a real bad plane design day on this one.
The plane
carries what appears to be 4 arms, two pair of one large and one small. There
is actually one pair of arms, each of which screw into the main casting, and
it's on these arms that the fence is secured with smallish nickel plated thumb
screws. Ahead of each arm is a smaller diameter rod that's held in position
with a slotted and flat-headed screw. Both of these smaller rods are actually
stops that allow the weatherstripping dude to make repeat cuts when the fence
is moved; the rods slam up against the main casting to prevent the fence from
being moved closer to the cutter. These rods are often missing from the plane,
and unless you can figure out a good use for them, you won't miss them if yours
doesn't have them. Sometimes, the stops are replaced (by guys trying to make a
bland plane more attractive so that they can get them off their table). Each
stop has a groove milled toward its end with a piece of wire bent around and
into the groove to increase the diameter of the stop, making it difficult for
it to slip out of the fence. Stanley must have foreseen the likelihood of these
stops entering the same realm as cam rests, slitting cutters, core box
turnbuckles, etc.
The fence on this plane is as long as the plane itself is. Make sure that
the portion of the fence in front of the front arm and the portion behind the
rear arm are present and not broken. There are two holes drilled in the face of
the fence for attaching an auxiliary fence.
The original cardboard boxes for this plane are unusually 'spacious' when
compared to the tight fits provided on the boxes' of other planes. Stanley made
this one deep enough so that the plane could be stored assembled. Why? Good
question. Maybe they touted the roomy box as a cool feature of the plane. Then
again, maybe not.
You ready for this one? This ugly little thing, very much resembling the #238, was used for blind wire grooving, which was a fad sweeping across America. I'm sure electricians far and wide slugged it out, tooth and nail, to be the first on the block to own one. The plumbers of America surely musta felt slighted that they didn't have a plane to call their own.
This was a plane that underwent many transformations during its too long
existence on this planet. The earliest models look just like the #238, but without a
fence. Since some thrill seeking electrician was using the plane across grain,
and word of that got back to Stanley, a vertical spur was added to the plane so
that the wood would be scored before the cutter did its cutter thing.
Electricians musta rejoiced over their clean blind wire dados. Oh to have been
a fly on the wall at that time! Finally, a fence was added to the plane ca. 1925
to make the plane function more like a regular plough. Shame on Stanley for
thinking that they could pass off a crappy little plane on the electricians and
believing that they wouldn't know any better! It took them electricians a
little time to figure what was going on, but they finally got what shoulda been
theirs from the get go.
The plane came in four different widths, sized by the cutters: 1/8",
5/32", 3/16",1/4".
Special in the sense that this is the same plane as the #239, but had a fence. The plane was dropped once some Stanley Einstein realized that the #239 should have had a fence from the start. The plane was only offered in one width - 1/8".
This is a very difficult plane to find, but only the collectors, who have to
have one of every plane Stanley ever made, care about it.
Another in a series of forgettable planes, which shoulda never been made. This one was designed to cut grooves for weatherstripping and light ploughing. It sorta looks like the #238, except this one is elongated, doesn't have the circular opening in the casting. It has a depth stop. Only two cutters were provided with the plane - 1/8" and 5/32". Just another piece of flotsam adrift in Stanley's sea of shame.
Stanley offered this
plane as one of their ill-fated weatherstripping tools, and it replaced the
defunct #238
while retaining the cutter securing screws used on that dead and buried plane.
This marvel of technological advancement notwithstanding, the plane is as unimaginative
in design as that velvet Elvis painting that you found at a local starving
artist sale and now have hanging over your mirrored waterbed.
Lucky for us Stanley didn't put the letter "A" in front of the
number, or we woulda been stuck with the aluminum version of the #248 (as if the mere
existence of the #248 isn't enough to suffer). Nope, in this case, the
letter "A", as a suffix, indicates that this plane was another mutant
of a plane that coulda been made/offered as one complete model. The plane does
not have the letter "A" cast into it.
What's the distinguishing characteristic (from the #248) of this genetic dead end? Nothing but the addition
of 5 cutters - 3/16", the ever popular 7/32", 1/4", 5/16",
and 3/8". The cutters (as well as the depth stop and the stop and fence
screws) are interchangeable with those of the #238. The stops of this plane have a different treatment
to them than the #238 does. Each stop has two little integral burr-like
projections near the end to keep from sliding out of the fence.
The plane is limited in the depth it can cut - up to 5/8" deep. If you
plan to use this thing, and a lot of guys like to use this goober for lightduty
ploughing, you should check that the skate and/or the fence aren't chipped;
both the skate and fence are the same length. The fence has two holes drilled
into it to allow a wooden face to be attached. The plane has a rather strange
casting for the integral handle - a web-like portion can be found at the bottom
of each side of the handle. This area of the casting can be found cracked or
chipped.
A handy, small router
for light work. It's one of Stanley's better ideas, which gained favor from
those doing inlay, mounting small door hardware, etc. The plane is a flat,
rectangular casting, with a vertical portion at the midpoint that is used as a
grip and to secure the cutter (by means of a simple slotted screw). There are
two positions on which the cutter can be attached to the main casting. One
position allows the tool to be used for normal work, and the other position for
bull nose work.
Some guys would mount a block of wood on the tool by tapping holes through
the casting (in the vertical portion, where you grip the tool), and then screw
the wood to the casting. This after-market option was done so that a better
grip could be had on the tool.
The plane is nickel plated, and is still manufactured over in England. A
short production of japanned models was offered during WWII. These are very
scarce, but no one, as yet, cares.
This is a dual-purpose
plane - the primary function is to cut rabbets and the other is to confound you
over how the blessed thing is gripped without contorting your fingers in
directions they aren't supposed to go. Ergonomics wasn't invented yet to help
this thing be user-friendly.
The plane is ground on both sides so that they are square with the sole and
so the plane can lay flat on either side. Its iron is pitched at ~20 degrees,
and is used bevel side up. The iron has a series of parallel grooves machined
into its back. These grooves are engaged by a tacky-looking pressed steel
lever, which regulates the iron's set. The iron is held in place by a
screw-activated lever cap that's unique to this plane. Check the lever cap for
any repairs or cracks. Also, check that the iron isn't a crude replacement made
from a #90 - the iron on this plane is unique to this plane. The surest way to
tell is by looking at the iron where it bulges out near its cutting edge. An
original iron is not bevelled along the edges, whereas the #90's is.
The first models of the plane carry irons marked "PAT. 10-17-16" on
their heels.
A detachable nose piece is provided, which makes the tool function as a
chisel plane. The nose piece is secured to the main portion of the plane with a
slotted screw, which often becomes mangled through repeated use. On the nose
piece are two retractable spurs, one on each side, which are used to score the
grain when working across the grain. There is also a very small, and fragile,
adjustable depth stop that can be affixed to either side of the plane. The
depth stop fits into a v-shaped groove to steady it. A small nickel plated
thumbscrew, equipped with a washer, locks the depth stop in place.
There's a circular
portion, about the diameter of a quarter, cast into the nose piece. This
circular opening of the casting is supposed to provide a grip while using the
plane, but I haven't figured out how to do it, especially since the depth stop
sticks up beside it and restricts the room for whichever finger you dare jam
through there.
A fence rides on an arm, which can be positioned on either side of the
plane. This fence is often missing (the depth stop is too). The plane is sorta
valuable, so many times you'll see the plane offered with a replacement fence
salvaged from a #78. The sure way to tell an original #278 fence is to look at the position of the hole for
the arm. If it's noticeably toward one side of the casting, it's a #78 fence. In
the image of the two fences, the #278's is the one to the left. An original #278 fence has its hole centered in the casting. There
are no other holes in the fence.
The plane is almost entirely japanned. The thumb screws and the lever cap
screw are nickel plated. The sides of the plane are milled and have no
japanning. However, I have had an example of this tool that has its milled
sides nickel plated. A tool pal of mine also reports a similar nickeled
example. It's impossible to say whether the plane was plated at a later date or
whether someone in New Britain was goofing around with some leftover nickel at
the end of the day.
An inexpensive floor
scraper, which I've included only as filler. Forget it - it's ugly and
worthless, now that we have those 'lectrical floor sanders at our renting call.
Still, the chef in you might find it very useful for scraping your cast iron
griddle clean of pancake crusties.
The tool is a very simple construction - a wooden handle (unfinished maple
until the mid-1930's, and from then on red painted hardwood until it went belly
up) is attached to a japanned casting. On the backside of the casting is a
maple block. Through both the maple block and the casting a bolt passes with a
large washer and thumb screw to tighten the two pieces together. Between the
casting and the wood block is a 1 3/4" by 3" scraper blade that
projects to either side of the main casting by about 1/4". The chunk of
wood helps to dampen the blade as you pull the tool toward you. The wood often
becomes all beat to hell or split from years of hard floor scraping.
The blade is normally fixed into the holder so that the blade's cutting edge
is parallel with the casting's leading edge. However, the blade can be pivoted
somewhat by turning the wood block toward one side and then tightening it.
This is another
wierd invention of Stanley's, which really should have sold more than it did.
It's a tough tool to find.
A turned tropical hardwood (the few I've owned are either mahogany or
cocobolo) has a geared cast piece fitted into its business end. The geared
piece accepts a similarly geared cast piece. Together, these two pieces are
screwed together with a wing nut to allow the scraper blade to be adjusted
forward or backward. The scraper blade is held in place by another wing nut,
and allows the blade to be tilted from side-to-side. Because of the two degrees
of freedom, the scraper can be configured for the hard to reach, awkward areas.
It was also advertised as being useful for floor scraping, which I suppose is a
good thing for those who are given to fits of living on their hands and knees.
The scraper blade is the typical blade used in the #12-type
scrapers, except it has a hole drilled through its center so that it can be
attached indirectly to the handle. The Stanley logo is stamped off-center,
toward one of the long edges of the blade. If you see one that has the logo
situated elsewhere, be suspicious of it being a replacement.
A wooden grip,
as wide as the blade is wide, is kerfed to fit over the top edge of the blade.
The grip has a metal strip screwed to it. The strip of metal extends below the
grip and is curved so that it acts like a pressure spring to keep the grip from
falling off. The grip can be pulled off so that the blade can be sharpened. The
grip is often missing on the tool.
A washer-like cast iron piece is notched to fit around the strip of metal.
This cast piece is what puts pressure on the blade when the wing nut is screwed
tight. This cast iron piece has the number " No. 283" cast into it.
Because of the length of the metal strip (attached to the grip), and the
fact that it fits into the notch in the cast iron piece, it's impossible to use
anymore than approximately 1.5" of the blade. The metal strip could be
shortened by cutting it, but doing so decreases the amount of tension it offers
to keep the grip in place. It's perhaps this design flaw, along with the myriad
of other scrapers Stanley offered, that killed this tool soon after it left the
drawing board.
The wing nuts have wings that are higher than normal - sort of what you'd
expect if Mickey Mouse's ears paralleled Pinoccio's nose whenever Mickey said
he likes the #55. The wing nuts are nickel plated, and the cast iron parts are
japanned.
Several other manufacturers made a tool that looks practically identical to
this one. Starrett, Miller Falls, and others were cranking this thing out in
greater numbers than Stanley ever did, and examples by manufacturers other than
Stanley are not valuable other than for use.
This is one of Stanley's
nicest planes, in my not so humble opinion. It's sort of a hybrid between the #78 and the #278. It looks more
like the common #78, except with the noticeable difference in the
cutter's width and that the cutter is skewed. There are also the two scoring
spurs, and a depth stop and fence that can be positioned on either side of the
plane, like the #278's capability. The lever cap's screw, the depth stop's thumb screw, and
the fence's thumb screw are the only parts that are nickel plated on this tool.
The sides of the plane are machined flat so that it can be used on its side.
This plane can also be found with an improper fence. A proper fence has
web-like additions to the casting (for strength) where the portion for the rod
meets the fence proper; the rod slips through the fence's opening for it
roughly about mid-way along the fence's length. An inordinate number of these
planes turn up fitted with fences from a #78. It seems odd that so many of them would have lost
their fences over time. Perhaps Stanley ran out of #289 fences and sold #78 fences as
replacements for those guys who either lost or broke the original fence. It's
hard to say for sure, but one thing is certain - the #78 fence is
not designed to work well on this tool when the plane is configured for
left-handed planing. The fence has two holes, one front and one back, so that
an auxilary wooden fence can be added to the plane.
One thing to check on
this plane is that the arm unscrews easily and fits onto the right side of the
plane. The arm has a hole drilled through its end so that a nail can be
inserted through the hole to tighten the arm. The arm's diameter of this plane
is larger than that of the #78's; the rod fills the hole in its original fence, so
if you see a noticeable gap around the arm and the fence's casting it's a good
bet that the rod isn't original. This isn't fatal to the plane's function, but
if you're a collector you might experience a brain spasm over it.
Also check that the spurs are ok, since the spurs supplied with this plane
are unique to it (actually, the earlier models of the #10 1/4 use
the same spur, but these planes are far too expensive to be used as a source
for replacement spurs). Each spur fits into a milled recess, one on the left
and one on the right, and they are not interchangeable with each other. Many of
the spurs are filed short so that they no longer can protrude below the sole of
the plane. For a very brief time, Stanley made some of the planes with the
three-lobed spurs that are identical to those used on the #78 and
similar planes; this is the model to find, if you can.
The lever cap, along the
righthand edge can sometimes be found with a large chip out of it. You should
also make sure that the lever cap is really a proper one for the plane, and not
one that was lifted from a #78 (or similar plane) as a replacement. A proper #289 lever cap has an S-shaped reinforcement ridge along
its right edge (relative to its position in the plane). The lever cap also has
the unusual feature in that it must be pulled upward so that the lever cap
fulcrum screw can engage the cap. Nearly all the other planes that use a
similar lever cap slip down over the lever cap fulcrum screw, taking efficient
use of gravity. Perhaps the designer of the #289's lever cap was from the southern hemisphere, the
moon, or some place like that.
The earliest models of the plane have the patent date embossed in the area
just behind the cutter's bed. While you're looking for that date, to see if you
have an early one, be sure to check the area of the casting that spans between
the handle and body proper as it can sometimes crack.
More filler for this rag. A cheap scraper used on floors, for removing paint, etc. It did come with a leather pad, under the blade, to eliminate chatter, if that's important to you.
Yup, a plane designed to
remove fur, and a favorite among the PETA rank and file. Not from animals, you
chucklehead, but from wood, as it came off the saw mill. How would you like
that job, planing wood as it came off the saw? Too bad What's My Line is off
the air. I woulda loved to hear Kitty Carlisle or Nipsey Russell try to crack a
fur planer's rough exterior when giving him the third degree.
Judging by the length of time that this plane was offered, you can tell that
fur planing was a popular pastime. Now, what is fur, in the lumber sense? It's
the rough, fuzzy surface left from the sawing. Oftentimes, the lumber was
chucked onto the ground before it was stickered. So, it was like a dirt magnet.
Thus, some genius at Stanley, Rule and Level, Co. thought a plane necessary to
tidy up the stock before a regular bench plane could be put to the 'sullied'
surface. But that's the same function as the #40 and the #40
1/2. Or one woulda thought so.
This plane is bizzare looking. When viewed from its side, the plane's sole
makes contact only at its mouth and heel; between these two points, the sole
arches upward. The toe is above the surface from just forward of the cutter to
the toe's end. This wierd sole configuration, designed purposely to minimize
the amount of contact with the wood, makes sworn members of the Flat Plane
Society recoil in horror. If you ever stumble across one of these planes, don't
bother trying to lap it, ok?
Looking at the plane
from the top, the plane swells around the cutter's position, and tapers both
toward the toe and heel so that the plane is lighter in weight. It certainly is
a unique looking chunk of metal. The entire bottom casting is japanned, save
for the flat sections of the sole below the tote and around the mouth. The
plane's model number is embossed right behind the knob.
The knob and tote are beech, and each is held to the main casting with a
one-piece steel screw, and not the two-piece brass nut and bolt that's used on
the common bench planes. The knob has a unique shape to it, where it tapers in
diameter where it sits atop the casting. Stanley must have thought that this shape
would lessen the knob's chances to split about the base, but many of the planes
show splitting there. The same general shape to the knob can be found on the
early #40
and #40 1/2 scrub planes.
A single, thick cutter is used, and is held in place by a simple cap and
screw. The cutter rests on a simple fin-like projection that arises out of the
main casting. The first model of the plane has "PAT APLd FOR" stamped
into the iron just below the Stanley logo. Since there is no mechanical
adjustment means for the iron, the backside of the iron is smooth. Any milling
in the backside of the iron means it's a replacement.
You only want to own one of these if you're a collector. Many of them are
found in very tough shape since they did suffer hard work. Finding the planes
in anywhere near new condition is very tough.
One woulda thought that
Stanley had exhausted every possible design for a plane to make the cuts for
weatherstrip installation. But no, the New Britain think tank was in overdrive,
and nothing could stop it from polluting the hardware shelves of America with
more offal. First the #78, then the #278, and now the #378, with this one is designed specifically to cut the
rabbets for metal weatherstripping on meeting rails of sash and for general
rabbetting within its capacity. Wonder why there was never a #178 - maybe they had one on the drawing board, but it
frightened its designers to death and thus never got into production?
This one looks like the common #190 rabbet plane, loaded with some factory options -
there are three depth stops (one on each side that can be set at different
depths) and a fence that is roughly one-third the length of the plane. The
fence is carried by two arms each of which screws into the main casting. Check
that the casting isn't damaged where the arms screw into the plane.
An extra wide depth stop, positioned on either the left or right side of the
plane, was provided for use on the wider cutters, which were optional with the
tool. A thumb screw, just like the one used to secure the slitting cutter on
the #45,
is used to secure the depth stop in place. The plane came equipped with an
11/16" cutter, which was then upped to 13/16" from 1939 on. Optional
cutters could be purchased: 11/16", 3/4", 7/8", and 1".
Two brass stop collars
are included so that pre-set positions of the rabbets can be repeated from sash
to sash; the fence slams against these collars to maintain the fence's
settings. These stop collars each have a small slotted screw through them so
that the collars can be secured to the rear arm; the collars are positioned so
that they 'sandwich' the fence. There is also a small cotter pin that fits
through the rear arm. I have no idea what this pin does, other than to make it
impossible for the fence to be removed from the arm - this must be one of the
deep, dark secrets of weatherstripping that only a senior member of WUA
(Weatherstripping Union of America) could answer. The astute reader may quickly
realize that there are a lot of parts to this plane, and they are usually MIA.
The plane is japanned with its sides machined flat. The cutter is secured
with a nickel plated lever cap which is secured to the main casting with a
slotted screw. The thumb screws to secure the fence and depth stops are also
nickel plated. The fence has two holes drilled through it - one near the front
and the other at the rear - so that a wooden face can be secured to the fence.
The model number is embossed on the left side of the main casting, just forward
of the handle.

In one of Stanley's pieces of tool propagada - one devoted to tools for
weatherstrip work - they indicate that this plane is "Used to make the
rabbet cuts on the sash meeting rail and for all rabbet work within its
capacity." If you don't know what the sash meeting rail is, it's the two
rails that align with each other, on double-hung windows, when the window is
closed.
You don't want this plane for working. Save it for the collectors. Trust me
here.
Runner-up to the Mr.
Stupid Plane Pageant (in the event that Mr. Stupid Plane can no longer remain
in that role, the runner-up shall assume the position and do guest appearances
either on a televised workshop program decorated in plaid or Vegematic
infomercials). This is a plane that only a mother or Rube Goldberg could love.
First, it's the most difficult plane to grip, if you have large neanderthal
paws. A hollowed and looped opening in the casting is fit in the palm, with
your fingers wrapping around it. The cutter sticks way up into the opening
where it's perfectly positioned to rip apart the knuckles of a careless
dovetailer. The toe, where you place your left hand, has a little bump in the
casting, which is supposed to be sufficient for grasping. Hah! I defy you to
use this plane without drawing puss or blood!
There are three main cast iron parts to the tool: 1) the main casting, which
carries the cutter; 2) the fence, which makes the plane work perpendicularly to
cut the dovetail in one position and also makes the plane work at an angle to
cut the socket in another position; and 3) a depth stop, which controls how
deep the shoulder of the dovetail is cut. The main casting has two sets of
tapped holes in which the 2 1/2" arms are screwed. The main casting also
has the patent information "PAT'S / 6-28 / 8-23 / 1910" embossed on the
right side. Both the fence and the depth stop each have two countersunk holes
drilled through them so that a wooden face may be secured. The fence and the
depth stop each also carry two pressed steel stops that are positioned to one
of the tick marks of the scales that are stamped into each casting. These
scales help to set-up the plane correctly in order to get the consistancy
needed to cut the corresponding dovetail and groove. The steel stops butt up
against a blued 'bolt' that's positioned on the left side of the main casting,
just above the cutter.
The plane cuts a flared (20 degrees) tongue and groove, which most of us
recognize as a sliding dovetail. The plane's working range is a groove no more
than 3/4" deep and dovetail necks no narrower than 1/4". It's a very
difficult plane to describe how it's used in words, but I'll take a stab at it.
The sole of the plane is beveled at 20 degrees. A fence is provided that can be
attached to the plane on either side, to give different results, depending upon
which side the fence is placed. In one case, the fence is attached to the right
of the plane's main casting, making it work perpendicularly to the edge (the
plane is cutting the tongue portion), and in the other, the fence is attached
to the left of the plane's main casting to tilt it 20 degrees (the fence has
two faces, which oppose each other at 20 degrees) to cut the groove. In the
latter case, the fence is used only to pitch the plane and a batten must be
used, like a common dado plane, to guide it. When the plane is used to cut the
tongue, a depth stop is fixed to the left side of the main casting. When the
plane is used to cut the groove, the angled fence doubles as a depth stop. The
grooves are the toughest to cut using this plane.
The cutter is seated at
a skew in the plane to facilitate cutting across the grain. There are four
provided: 7/32", 3/8", 1/2", and 7/8". The cutter is
secured to the main casting via a plunger-like rod that's activated by the
large thumb screw just forward of the grip. There are two cast iron spur blocks
that are used to score the grain when working across the grain; one spur block,
measuring 3/16" across the beveled face, is designed for the narrow
cutters, and the other, measuring 5/16" across the beveled face, for the
wider cutters. These spur blocks are secured to the right side of the main
casting with two countersunk screws, just ahead of the cutter. Another spur is
secured to the left side of the main casting. Since these planes received very
little use, the spurs normally have plenty of length to them, however, if you
find yourself in need of one, you can snarf them from the #289 or #10 1/4, both of which aren't low-cost planes. Many of the
planes are missing cutters and one of the spur blocks.
The plane is entirely nickel plated, but even with that, you'd still have to
be mighty desperate to own one of these (for use). Judging by the number of
examples out there, most of which are in a remarkable state of preservation,
with many in their original box, despair musta been oozing from each and every
workshop that had this ghastly beast counted in its tool arsenal.
The earlier planes came in a finger-jointed wooden box with a sliding top
while the later ones came in a cardboard box. Both boxes have a bright blue
label, which shows the various dimensions of dovetails, affixed to the
underside of the lid. A wooden box was provided to carry the four cutters. The
box also has a diagonal line scribed across one face to serve as a reference
for the proper grinding angle of the cutters. A sample dovetail was also
commonly provided with the plane almost as if Stanley were trying to prove to
the tool buying public that the plane actually works. We'll never really know
for certain whether some unfortunate soul was chained to a post in some New
Britain sweatshop, forced to use the plane all day long to make the samples, or
whether a machine cut them and Stanley was pulling the wool over Joe
Carpenter's eyes.

Stanley, in their catalogs, stated the plane could do the following work
(tongue refers to the dovetail proper, while groove refers to the socket):
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Copyright
(c) 1998-2008 by Patrick A. Leach. All Rights Reserved. No part may be
reproduced by any means without the express written permission of the author.