For the record (if anyone’s keeping on) my personal opinion (which I own for
myself and encourage all others to ignore) is that “block planes” are so called
not because of any unique trade, but because you use them to square up the ends
of boards.
“Squaring Plane” sounds terrible. So the marketing geniuses invent the “block
plane”. I suspect they marketed it to carpenters and tradesmen based on the
premise that you can square stock with them without a bench or a shooting board.
This would explain why all “block planes” are small, even though we all know
that all other things being equal the longer and straighter the bed, the more
precise the line.
But if I’m squaring a 1” floorboard to meet a baseboard, or cutting miters on
mill-produced mouldings in a new house, being able to have a palm sized way to
trim up my panel saw or miter box work is kinda nice. In fact, while I know some
people detest the tiny little “trimming planes” that can fit in your pocket, I
have 2 that I absolutely love and won’t work without. One is 100 years old. The
other 20. Both are Stanley. The old one I save for special occasions like
removing the arris on a piece of furniture. The “new” one is always with me when
I’m working on the house, and I can’t imagine installing flooring or molding
without it.
It’s been my experience that even among old tool people, planes tend to be
viewed as finishing tools. Since I started out in carving and forestry and came
through that route to furniture, planes are tools that hog off wood just not as
much as my hatchet or hewing axe. If plane = mirror finish on walnut or cherry,
precise straight lines, you’d never think of holding the board in one hand and
the plane in the other. But if you’ve grown up using the reflection in your saw
plate to make a “good enough” 90 degree on the end of a wall stud, using a
Stanley 220 to clean up a little slop in your saw work makes perfect sense.
You’re blocking the end of the board.
But forget all that . . . . lets have some fun snob-riffing on common tool
naming gaffes . . . .
“Block plane” applied to every single plane makes me want to educate every
single person who lists a plane on eBay. “One starfish at a time” they say.
I have to say that the mis-use of “planer” for a hand tool used to be one of my
eBay bargain finding strategeries. Especially if “planer” and “estate find”
appear in the same listing. That used to pretty much guarantee finding a
scruffy-enough-to-not-attract-collectors plane. But now it seems that all planes
are priced out of reason on eBay, so “planer” bothers me even more.
Another irritant is “collectable” applied to every handsaw ever made. I suppose
theoretically everything is collectible, so in a literal sense it’s probably
accurate to say it regarding Porter era Disstons or BorgWarner era Atkins. But
irritating even if accurate. Maybe I should start putting my dogs’ scat in bags
and selling it as “collectible dog ephemera”?
Or how ‘bout when the uninitiated use “hand drill” to describe what we all know
as a brace? A linguist could study why “bit” made its way into the modern
vernacular to describe the same thing, but “brace” is a term that only the
illuminati know . . . .
Does anyone else have a tool-misnomer blooper reel?
MPf.
In Weddington
Wondering about words and usage and human psychology in a way that would make
most people catatonic or melancholy
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