Good Morning, Muleteers. A little “Gee” and a little “Haw” on the docket today. The video of this material will be for paid subscribers, but the text version remains accessible. If you have a question for me, please leave it in the comments, and let me know from where you hail, if you feel like it.
Josh from Springfield, Missouri asks,
“Nick, in a few interviews I have heard that your favorite wood is American White Oak. Let's say you are making a tabletop. Would you still choose American White Oak? I am partial to Black Walnut especially when combined with Danish oil. The grain becomes iridescent and the light reflecting off the table can make it seem as if the grain itself is changing before your eyes. Boom. 360 degrees of Mother nature magic.”
Josh, thank you very kindly for this question.
“Favorite wood” is one of my absolute favorite topics, and I could really ramble on about the subject until every single one of you is asleep, escaped, or gratefully dead by your own hand. You may think I’m joking, but you’ll soon learn that I’m as serious as 32” Oliver joiner with a wonky guard, because I coincidentally had another recent interaction about my “favorite wood” on some social media channel or other.
Any of the times I have contended that American White Oak (Quercus Alba) is my choice, I have prefaced the assertion by saying that my choice of wood species would have to be substantially determined by the needs of the particular project. But if I was forced to choose only one wood, that’s what it would be, because of its charismatic combination of attributes. It scores the highest for me in more of the necessary boxes than any other fine species. I have known it to be cumulatively the most durable, versatile, easy to work, and beautiful of the American domestic hardwoods.
I often cite the fact that this specific type of oak was malleable enough to withstand being steamed and bent in the form of planks, several inches thick, into the curves of a ship, while also sufficiently tough to serve as the titular “sides of iron”, or hull planks, on “Old Ironsides” (the USS Constitution), off of which cannonballs reportedly bounced with regularity. This venerated three-masted frigate was commissioned by none other than George Washington himself in 1794, for to whup up on pesky French Privateers and Barbary Pirates.
Because I suck at computers, I have not been able to find the comment somebody left me, attempting to correct this statement of mine, purporting that, actually, the hull of Old Ironsides was in fact built from Live Oak (Quercus Virginiana), not American White Oak.
I was more than a bit chagrined to think that I had been proudly spouting an incorrect factoid for years, bragging up my beloved white oak, which also happens to be the state tree of Illinois, the very Land of Lincoln from which your humble correspondent hails. Had I brought shame upon myself, my homeland, and the very Father of Our Country?
The thing is, I had obviously read my version of this heroic planking somewhere before. Maybe in the many books on boatbuilding that I have greedily consumed, or perhaps in one of the numerous C.S. Forester or Patrick O’Brian sea-faring novels that have been such a rich source of pleasure and escape for me over the years; books that are not only ripping good adventure stories, but also meticulously researched documents on the anatomy of wooden naval vessels in the Victorian age.
But wait, there’s more. I know that the best trees from which to mill planks for a ship’s hull want to be as long and straight-grained as possible, because when they undergo steam-bending, planks are prone to crack at knots or kinks. White oak trees, especially the old-growth specimens of that era, can boast a gorgeous lower trunk, astonishing in length and girth, from which ideal-for-bending, “clear” boards can be sawn.
Live oak, on the other hand, is a magnificent tree with extremely unyielding and therefore valuable wood, but its beauty doesn’t lie in its linear virtue. Quite the opposite, in fact, because it’s a very curvy species of oak. Instead of steam-bending live oak into the hull or skin shape, the clever boatbuilder would utilize the elbows and crooks of the live oak trunks and limbs to serve as-is, as skeletal members within the craft; structural members known as knees, ribs and frames—forming the spine over which the hull was fastened. For this reason, I was a bit dubious about the claim that had been lodged against white oak.
So I did a little homework and managed to track down a decent accounting of the woods used in Old Ironsides’ construction at https://historyofmassachusetts.org/uss-constitution-construction/, and was relieved to have my account vindicated in this paragraph:
The hull of the USS Constitution was originally made of white oak and live oak. The hull consisted of three layers with the outer and inner horizontal layers being made of white oak and the center vertical layer being made of live oak.
I had always been under the impression that these hulls were one thickness of plank, but of course this layering makes much more sense, and the configuration checks out, since the horizontal planks would need to be the long, clear spans I mentioned, thus the white oak, while the verticals could be much shorter pieces, at times utilizing the natural curves of the live oak.
I discovered further, on the same History of Massachusetts website, that the reasoning behind this semi-erroneous poster’s statement might have been traced to an article on the American Society of Civil Engineers website (ASCE), which I could not access without joining said Society (no matter how rad it sounds, it would be a minimum of $35.00 for the single article, and I think I am already crushing this debate for free).
The quote, which is on the Massachusetts site, reads:
“This heavy timber (live oak) has a density of 75 pounds per cubic foot, making it heavier than water, heavier than most other common timbers. The huge internal braces of the ship were cut in solid pieces from individual trees, as opposed to being compositely joined on site. The result was a hard body that appeared to deflect cannon balls like iron.”
So, the mistake could be traced to the author of this quote, who accurately describes the live oak being used as “internal braces”, but then conflates those units with the exterior of the ship (skinned in white oak), which, as any engineer could tell you, is precisely the part of the ship off of which cannonballs bounce. Hence, I feel fully vindicated in my original assertion, that it’s American White Oak that gave Old Ironsides her nickname, even as those planks were staunchly backed up by live oak.
Furthermore:
The ship’s masts, cabinetry, millwork, and trim were originally made of Eastern white pine.
The ship’s beams and decks were made of longleaf pine.
The ship’s rigging components, such as sheaves, blocks, belaying pins, and deadeyes were made out of a type of wood called Lignum vitae. This is one of the hardiest, heaviest types of wood and grows mostly in the Caribbean islands and South America.
Around 150,000 wooden pegs called treenails (pronounced “trunnels”), made of black locust, were used to pin the ship’s hull together.
So, as you can see, Josh, even on just one ship, there were numerous species being employed, each for its particular super powers. I shouldn’t even be surprised if there was, eventually, black walnut on Old Ironsides, as well as cherry, maple, mahogany, ash, teak, and many other invaluable species treasured by boatbuilders and woodworkers alike.
All that said, I definitely hear you about the walnut—when I’m asked what I love about woodworking in general, one of the aspects I usually describe is exactly what you have proffered: the magic of applying the first coat of oil to sanded, scraped or planed walnut, be it Black or California Claro. You just can’t beat it.
Understanding and utilizing the strengths and weaknesses of different wood species for different projects is one of the most enjoyable sets of deductions a woodworker gets to make as they puzzle out each tantalizing (and sometimes frustrating) creation. I love it so much, as well as my favorite wood (if I had to pick just one!), that I wrote a song about it with my sweet friend Jeff Tweedy, which you can hear at the end of my woodworking audio book Good Clean Fun. I’ll share the lyrics below for a minor giggle:
Mahogany for my guitar neck. Spruce for my violin.
Willow’s good for my whippin’ switch,
Dependin’ what century I’m in.
Ash handle for my hatchet. Teak deck on top a’my boat. Cypress knees under that,
But the tree that makes it all float,
Is American White Oak. You can’t fix it, It ain’t broke.
Put that in yer pipe and smoke it.
Gimme American White Oak. Gimme American White Oak.
A hickory branch to swing my axe. Cherry in my pretty bowl. Lignum Vitae’ll never crack, and cedar makes your totem pole.
Gustav Stickley only wants one tree. To feed the little squirrels and me.
Quarter saw it – you’ll come to know joy,
It’s the state tree of Illinois.
Great for beds for sleep or reproduction,
Quercus Alba has a closed-cell construction,
That makes it ideal for water-tight vocations,
Like barreling whisky or floating wet locations,
Like Atlantis or with Gandalf to the Grey Havens.
American White Oak.
I’m an ox and it’s my yoke.
I get so hot I start to smoke.
For an American White Oak.
Gimme American White Oak.
Asha from Ithaca, New York asks,
“Nice to see you, sir! Not that it's any of my business, and likely it's dictated by your current job, but I miss your beard. For my own selfish enjoyment, I hope it returns soon. Your current clean-cut look, however, combined with the aesthetic of your collar reminds me of Star Trek uniforms. Sadly, you're closest to the color red, which likely means you're going to die first. Don't let them send you down there, wherever there is, is what I'm saying.
Anyway, that brings me to my question for today. Are you Team Star Trek or Team Star Wars?”
Asha, thank you very kindly for your question.
Before I answer your actual question, I’d like to take a moment to address the voicing of your unsolicited preference for my beard. I hear and read things like this with some consistency from fans, or maybe just passers-by, who, like yourself, seem to generally make their statements from a good-hearted place, although sometimes they’re not as nice as you about it. It’s a conundrum.
You see, Asha, when teeming hordes of adoring fans lay hungry eyes upon my freckled Anglo cheekbones, or their nostrils upon my royal, ursine musk, they are involuntarily besotted by my beauty, and my, I mean let’s call it what it is, my goddamn overflowing hogshead of X-factor. When I but whistle a protest song and you all are tripping balls on my ear jazz and somehow imagining the two of us destroying perfect Reuben sandwiches together at the comfiest pub in your delivery zone, it’s easy to forget that I am a professional character actor, and that I will continue to look like any number of plumbers or priests or fornicators, sometimes all three at once, for yes, I am classically trained, and I do favor the blood-soaked pageants of Lorca.
My face is like the weather in New England, according to Mark Twain. “If you don’t like it, just wait a few minutes.”
And to answer your actual question, Team Star Trek or Star Wars? No, Ma’am.
Love,
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