The Table
A few days ago I started a refinishing project on an old oak dining table. The table is almost 46 years old and like me, a bit of an antique I guess. I know the age of the table because I built it in my sophomore year in high school.
It was September 1966 and the first day of school my sophomore year at Olney High School, 4th period woodshop class. Summer meant work and I was looking forward to getting back into school and particularly back into woodshop class.
Woodshop was my favorite class and largely because the teacher, Mr. Clem Hanson was also my favorite teacher. Mr. Hanson could work magic with wood. He was a great man and a smart man, but more than that, he was a wise man. He was born to be a teacher and was a natural at it. I learned a lot more in Mr. Hanson’s class than woodwork. I also learned some valuable life lessons.
Mr. Hanson ran a tight ship and expected his students to do the same. Ten minutes before the end of class bell rang, Mr. Hanson would yell “clean-up time”! And that meant everybody. If you tried to sneak an extra minute or two into your project, you would likely find a handmade wooden paddle across your backside! Clean-up meant clean-up time and nothing else! Team work was part of the process of cleaning up. Some would put away tools, some would sweep off the work benches, and others would sweep the floors. Team work was one of Mr. Hanson’s life lessons.
No one touched one stick of wood in Mr. Hanson’s class until you learned what each and every tool was called, what it was used for and how to take care of it. You would know how to figure the board foot of lumber needed for your project and which tools you would need for the build long before going into the shop for hands on work.
In Mr. Hanson’s freshman class, everyone’s first project was a pump lamp. A little wooden lamp fashioned in the design of an old fashioned water pump with a small trough. A pump of the handle activated the light switch. Every freshman built one. There must be hundreds of them still around Olney in attics and garages.
The second project usually was a gun rack, a night stand or a cypress knee lamp. I chose the gun rack and still have it. I think it’s in the attic with the pump lamp. Various other small and simple projects filled the rest of the freshman year.
Sophomore year meant a little more freedom to work on projects of your choice and of a little more complicated nature. Coffee tables, gun cabinets, desks and various other forms of furniture took their shape in the class.
I consulted my mother about what I should build that year and she told me she had always wanted a round oak dining table and asked if I thought I could build one. Gee, I don’t know? A round oak dining table? How big is a round oak dining table? How tall is it? What is it supposed to look like? I had no idea how to go about it. I didn’t have a clue where to start but I knew Mr. Hanson would so I went to him with the idea.
Mr. Hanson thought it was a fine idea. No one had ever built one in his class and he was excited about it. The first order of business before building anything in Mr. Hanson’s class was to draw up a set of plans and calculate the amount of lumber and other supplies needed and come up with a price. We put the pencil to it and it came up to an unbelievable $37.50! I went to mom with the news and I could see the disappointment in her eyes when I told her what it was going to cost $37.50. That was a ton of money in 1966. Almost a week’s wages for my mom who worked in the meat market at Piggly Wiggly. She was sure that my dad would never agree to spend that kind of money for a dining table when we had a perfectly good Formica and chrome table already!
I worked for my dad at his service station after school and on Saturdays from the time I was in about 8th grade until I graduated. I knew mom really wanted that table so I went to my dad and told him what I had in mind and what it would cost. $37.50! Dad winced, coughed a couple of times and then reached into the cash register drawer and pulled out two $20 bills and handed them to me. “Bring me back the change.” I told dad I would work for free and he could take it out of my pay until the table cost was repaid. As you can probably imagine, my dad never took a dime out of my pay.
It takes a long time to build a round oak dining table when class is only one hour long, but day by day the table began to take shape. First the boards had to be planed and then put together with dowel pins and glue. The glue had to set up a couple of days before anything else could be done to the top, so the next day or two was spent cutting out the pedestal and legs. Finally the glue was cured and a trip to the band saw was next to cut out the round shape. The table was pretty large, and it took several students to help support it while I cut it out. More team work.
Mr. Hanson took special interest in this project and checked on me regularly to be sure things were coming along as they should. He encouraged me every day and gave me endless tips. Sanding, cutting, routing, more sanding, and more sanding and finally it was ready for the finish. A couple of classmates helped me move the table into the paint room and Mr. Hanson broke out a brand new can of Valspar varnish and a new camel hair brush for the project. His instructions assured that you never shook a can of varnish. “Shaking will introduce air bubbles that will be transferred to the wood and ruin the finish. Never shake varnish” he said. “Open it carefully and stir it gently with a clean paint stick.”
I headed into the paint room and Mr. Hanson kept anyone from sanding that day just to make sure no dust entered the paint room. I carefully opened the new can of varnish and started to stir. I felt something odd in the bottom of the can. I looked inside and saw a shiny new half dollar staring back at me! I carefully fished it out of the can and wiped it off and took it to Mr. Hanson. I was puzzled about how it got into a new can of varnish but he never said a word other than “thank you” and pushed it into his pocket.
I went back to the paint room and started the tedious task of applying the varnish. It went on smoothly with the new camel hair brush and with each new coat, my project was beginning to look more and more like I hoped it would. After class Mr. Hanson asked me to stay for a minute. When everyone else left the classroom, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the half dollar and handed it to me. He said “I put that in there to see if whoever found it would say anything or just keep it.” Another life lesson from Mr. Hanson – honesty pays.
Just before Christmas, the last coat of wax went on the table and I was ready to take it home to mom but Mr. Hanson had other ideas. He was almost as proud of the table as I was and informed me that the Red River Industrial Arts Fair was to be held in Wichita Falls in a couple of weeks and he would like to take my table and enter it in the fair.
The fair was to be held on a Saturday and because I had to work at the service station, I was not able to attend but on Friday I helped my classmates wrap the table carefully and load it and other students projects onto the truck for the trip to Wichita Falls.
The weekend was excruciatingly long, but when 4th period finally rolled around again on the following Monday, I ran to the shop to see if my table had made the trip without scuff or scratch. I opened the door to the classroom and there sat my table with a bright blue 1st Place ribbon on it. I think my head swelled to the size of the table!
A couple of my buddies helped me load the table into the back of my 1954 Chevy PU for the trip home. My little brother was assigned the task of riding in the back with it to keep it secure. The two of us wrestled it into the house and set it in the dining room and waited for mom to come home. When she walked into the room and saw it, and saw the blue ribbon on it, she got tears in her eyes and at that point I knew the table was indeed a winner.
Mom always said the table was hers until she died, then I could have it back. Mom passed away a couple of years ago but the table stayed at her house until my dad also passed a few months ago. You can only imagine what it looked like having never been refinished in almost 46 years.
I brought the table home and started the refinishing project a few days ago. As I sanded and scraped off the old finish I remembered every cut, every screw, every dowel pin, and all that sanding. I remember the many hours that went into building the table and the help from my classmates and from my dad for giving me the money to build it. I remembered the lessons learned in Mr. Hanson’s woodshop class. I remembered the many family dinners around the table with my mom, my dad, my brother, aunts and uncles and even my own kids. As I put the last coat of wax on it today, I admired the fine grain of the oak and imagined the strong old tree it must have been cut from and was reminded of the fine grain of stock Mr. Hanson must have been cut from.
I guess the table will stay in my house a few years now and then it will move on to my kids. I know it will never mean as much to them as it did to my mom and does to me, but hopefully they too will share many joyful meals and memories around “The Table”.
Trailboss
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