Showing posts with label Brueton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Brueton. Show all posts

Jesus Woodworker and the Decision to go CNC

After reading the last 2 posts you're probably wondering what a "Jesus woodworker" is.

My friend
Lee Weitzman and I jokingly coined the term many years ago to describe a type of individual who would sometimes come into our employ as cabinet-makers.

It has nothing to do with religion.

To hear Lee describe it, a "Jesus woodworker" is a person who is so caught up in the craft of woodworking that they are oblivious to the notion of producing anything in a timely fashion. Taken to the extreme this type of artist/craftsperson will consider it their sacred duty to spend countless hours in meditation with a tree in order to intuitively discover what the tree wishes to be made into. Upon discovering this Truth in a moment of Zen the artist/craftsperson will then embark on a painstakingly long and time consuming process that will one day (hopefully) result in an actual piece of furniture being made.

If this happens to be the kind of furniture making process that stirs your gravy - no problem.
But do it on your own time, and don't pursue it as a vocation on someone else's dime.


My definition is a little simpler than Lee's because it simply acknowledges the Biblical Jesus of Nazareth as a woodworker who had the ability to walk on water.

In that context a "Jesus woodworker" is a person who feels that they too have the ability to walk on water - if only because they too are woodworkers.

Over the years I have met more than my share of cabinet-makers who suffer this affliction. Sometimes it comes from one who is older, and already set in his ways.
Other times the attitude would come from one of the young bucks - fresh out of school.
With diploma in hand they figure they already know more than I ever could.

In my lifetime the greatest archetype of a "Jesus woodworker" to ever cross my path showed up at my shop in late 1994. For the purposes of this post I'll refer to him as "Tom" (acronym for The Omnipotent Master).

By late 1994 we had so much work coming in that we were compelled to hire more people.

Tom was one of the applicants who showed up looking for a job as cabinet-maker. His resume seemed to check out, because he had worked at some of the better shops in the area. I still remember the interview, because my heart went out to him as he told me his sob story about being out of work for so long and not having money to buy Christmas gifts for his kids. I too had young kids and had suffered the downturn, so I decided to give the guy a chance.

Tom had more than his share of trouble getting up to speed. At first I tolerated his mistakes in the belief that our processes were new to him and he simply needed time to adjust. But even the simplest of tasks were tripping him up.

One day we were making Concerto Tables, which have a round wood top set into plywood rings. The grain pattern of the inset tops were diamond matched (as illustrated below) and in order to make them round we used a brad point bit to partly drill a 3/8" dia. hole into the underside of the top at the point where the veneer seams meet. This hole was then used to set the top on a pin, where it would be spun on an overhead router to make it round.

I gave Tom clear instructions on what to do, and left him to complete the job.

Upon my return a short while later I was shocked by what I saw. Each of the tops had a 3/8" dia hole drilled clean through the face.

"What the heck did you do?" I asked.

"Oh, I thought it would be easier to drill down through the face rather than measure from the underside" was his reply.

"But you drilled a hole clean through every top. What are we supposed to do about that?"

"Umm, maybe we could just putty it in."

"Are you nuts? This is high end stuff. You don't putty that in. And besides, where did you get it into your head to do it this way? I clearly explained what to do, and you didn't do it. Why?"

(What comes next is Tom's answer to this question, and I am not making this up)

"These tops getting screwed up are actually YOUR fault, because nowhere on your drawings does it say NOT to drill a 3/8" hole through the face."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. He was blaming me for his own incompetence.

At this point I had to take a deep breath because in this moment of clarity I found myself fully aware of the fact that I live in an egalitarian country where it's not against the law to be stupid.

However, it is against the law to slap someone upside the head for being stupid.

With that in mind my thoughts suddenly raced to the world of mathematics. I knew how much I was paying Tom per hour, and how much his drug, dental and medical plans were costing me. Add in the statutory holidays, sick days, EI insurance, EHT, pension plan contributions and all the other costs of keeping this guy in my employ - and when my mental calculator punched out a total I suddenly realized that the hourly cost of giving this guy a paycheck every week was virtually identical to the financing costs on a 5-Axis CNC machining centre.

It was not difficult to figure out what my next decision would be.

Considering that I have always been an equal opportunity employer, I decided to give all the other employers an equal opportunity at Tom's services.

To use a sports analogy, Tom was now an unrestricted free agent.
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The Journey Continues (Pt. 12) - Ramping Up Again

Having experienced the severity of the economic recession of the early 1990s I had surprisingly mixed feelings about the surge of new work coming in from places like Brueton. Although one part of me was thankful to be busy once more, there was another part of me that dreaded the thought of ramping back up to warp speed again.

When we were at our busiest in the 1980s I was constantly working long hours, including evenings and weekends. This made it difficult to do simple things, such as spend time with my young family. Although it was tough to decelerate the business as orders dried up, it was also a welcome relief in some ways because I was simply burned out.

During these down times I began to sketch out all kinds of ideas of furniture concepts I wanted to have made. This became a surprisingly enjoyable exercise and it had an almost meditative quality for me. Deep down I loved the creativity of it all - conceiving ideas; sketching them out; then figuring out how to go about making them into reality. The latter part was easy because the science of making was something I had down to a fine art already - after years of taking other people's ideas and transforming them into finished product.

The first prototype I ended up taking from sketchbook to bench was a Biedermeier style desk - very similar to the Rainforest Desk shown below.
An old bundle of Myrtle Burl veneer that had been stored away for years was used to make the inset of the top, while offcuts of Macassar Ebony were utilized to make the apron, legs and plinths. Not long after the desk was completed I was fortunate to have it sold - to an author who was looking for an inspiration place where he could write his books.

The success and sale of this first piece - especially one that was wholly of my own creation - actually inspired me to consider scaling my shop down even smaller, to focus exclusively on making and selling my own designs. This fantasy, however, was short-lived because the economic reality of the situation had its own facts and figures.

For one thing I was now the father of 3 young children, and as much as it might be righteous and honourable to pursue the path of the starving artist - also starving one's family in the process was not a viable option.

In addition, despite how cool I thought my furniture pieces were, the marketplace as a whole was not sharing my enthusiasm. Aside from the initial desk sale, three consecutive years of displaying at IIDEX did virtually nothing to stimulate any interest in my designs although, to be fair, the recession going on at the time wasn't conducive for sales either.

Around 1992 or 1993 there was also a Call for Entry for furniture designs to be submitted for an upcoming book entitled "Conservation by Design". This was a collaborative effort by W.A.R.P. (Woodworkers' Alliance for Rainforest Protection) and the furniture design program at RISD (Rhode Island School of Design) to select tangible examples of sustainable furniture designs. I was thrilled beyond belief at this opportunity to be published, and felt certain that my Rainforest Desk would be one of the pieces selected.

Sadly, of the 76 furniture makers accepted for publication, I wasn't one of them.

About a year later there was another Call for Entry - and another rejection - once again from RISD. This time it was my "Tower of Power" that bit the proverbial dust.


It was shortly after we started ramping up with Brueton that I had a lengthy discussion with J. Wade Beam on what my business focus should be. Wade advised me to abandon my efforts to develop my own pieces and focus, instead, on being an OEM supplier to companies like Brueton. At the time this seemed like sage advice, for a couple of reasons.

First, given the rejections I was getting it seemed obvious that my furniture pieces weren't resonating with the more knowledgeable design academics of the world. Second, thanks to the recession there was now a seismic shift under way in the way in which companies had their pieces made. Making things in-house was now falling out of vogue as more and more designers began to outsource rather than invest in their own production. (Of course, taken to its extreme this ultimately led to the almost complete offshoring of production that we now see today).

As the 1990s wore on our base of OEM clients expanded to include not only Brueton but also Vladimir Kagan, Rick Shaver, Monroe Sherman (Sherman Designs), and Lee Weitzman. To keep up with the growing influx of work we were soon compelled to expand the size of our staff.

Although I was never keen on having large numbers of people working for me, in many ways I had little choice if I was going to keep my customers happy.

But it was only after I hired a "Jesus woodworker" that I decided to go CNC.
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The Journey Continues (Pt. 11) - The Call From Brueton


When I was told that J. Wade Beam from Brueton was on the phone I thought for sure that someone was playing a practical joke on me.

Brueton at the time was one of the world's elite high end furniture companies. Wade was both the chief designer and Director of Sales and Marketing for them, and for the past five years I had been trying (without success) to meet with Wade each time I travelled to New York. Each effort made at their showroom in the D&D Building was rebuffed by the same reply: namely that Brueton did their own woodwork and didn't require outside vendors.

After confirming the call was for real I asked why he was calling. Wade told me that Brueton's primary focus was stainless steel, and they had near zero in-house woodworking capacity. They were looking to expand the wood side of their business with some new designs, but to do this they needed talent. Apparently he'd heard of us through the industry grapevine and was calling to see if we were interested.

Were we interested?

Let's put it this way: If you're a car maker and a guy named Enzo Ferrari calls to see if you want to build some high end cars with him, what do you say?

Hell, yes !!

For months on end we worked intensively with Wade to develop a wide range of new designs, which were eventually unveiled at NEOCON in Chicago. It was during NEOCON that I finally met the company's owner, Leo Fromm.

Mr. Fromm was a successful publishing magnate from Germany who owned several companies. His interest in owning Brueton seemed to stem from his absolute love for fine furniture. I got the impression that, for him, owning Brueton was akin to why some men own professional sports teams - for the love of what the franchise represents, and a passion for excellence.

In the photo above Mr. Fromm is reviewing one of the new Concerto Table prototypes. He especially loved how the 4-way box match of the Crotch Mahogany top formed a pattern that, to him, looked like a butterfly's wings. I was astounded at how something so seemingly simple could move this man so deeply.

It wasn't long before company president Howard Chapman sat down with me to write out a slew of orders. With several strokes of the pen we were suddenly very busy again.

The ensuing years turned out to be an especially exciting time for us, because many of the designs coming out of Brueton really pushed the envelope of our woodworking and finishing capabilities.

The Virginian Credenza was probably the most difficult of all the new prototypes. Maybe for that reason it was also one of the most satisfying pieces we have ever produced. The main body was comprised of two half shells - each made of an inner and outer kerfed ply filled with epoxy resin, which was then vacuum formed around an elliptical plug.

The back shell was fitted with shelves and dividers, while the front was cut into doors. The top was center butt matched Crotch Mahogany trimmed with ribbon sapele. The stainless steel detail at the floor is actually convex in shape, to emulate the curve of the casework. All exposed woodwork was finished in high gloss polyester to accentuate the grain.

The Virginian Table presented some challenges of it's own. While the elliptical base was easy enough to make, shaping the bottom of it to match the freeform curve of the stainless steel plinth as challenging to say the least. The box matched Crotch Mahogany top was encased in a 3" band of solid ribbon mahogany, which needed to be step routed by hand with custom carbide to achieve its deep elliptical profile.

Concerto Tables had quirks of their own, especially in final assembly. The holes in the stainless steel ring had to align perfectly with the leg bushings for these tables to be symmetrical.

During its peak years Brueton was a magnet for creative talent such as Mitchell Pickard - shown here testing out his new Melrose Chair. In subsequent years we would collaborate with Mitch on on many of his furniture designs, including the Angeline Console which was recently featured in "500 Cabinets" by Lark Books.

As a testament to his creative range Mitch is currently designing and building some very cool custom motorcycle wheels and parts at his own company, Pickard USA

Our collaboration with Brueton allowed us to produce some exceptional custom furniture pieces, including this 22' long boardroom table for the New York Yankees professional baseball team. What isn't apparent in the photo is how we managed to subtly blend 3 elliptical spline segments into a functional ergonomic shape. This table would otherwise have been "pointy" at the ends had a pure ellipse been used.

Prior to shipping we stuck a Toronto Blue Jays sticker to the underside of the top.

I never heard if George Steinbrenner found that funny.
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The Journey Continues (Pt.7) - Our Biggest Customer Goes Supernova

The year 1987 was pretty much the high water mark for the economic boom attributed to Reaganomics. At the time I wasn't paying a whole lot of attention to things like the stock market, but what I do know is that we were exceptionally busy at work. Even the stock market crash of 1987 seemed to have little impact - at least at first.

In addition to my furniture work there was also a great deal happening in my personal life at the time. In 1983 I met a wonderful gal named Teresa, and we ended up getting married the following year. In 1985 we bought our first house togther, and in 1987 our first child was born - a son by the name of Bradley.


As a mirror to that timeline my parents split up and divorced, which meant that in 1987 I ended up buying out my mother's half of the business as part of her settlement with my father. Later that year, as a complete surprise to me, my father suddenly announced that he was semi-retiring to Florida. The news caught me totally off guard.

Suddenly, at the age of 28, and with a wife and baby at home I found myself thrust into the role of sole proprietor of a busy custom woodworking shop that was now employing a staff of 20. I worked my butt off day and night to stay on top of things, and it was overwhelming to say the least.

On a personal level it became exceptionally difficult to work the long hours that are the norm for small business owners, because by the time my son turned the age of one he had become accustomed to the routine of me coming home at night to play and spend time with him. On nights when I had to go back to finish a project to meet a deadline he would cry as I headed out the door. It broke my heart when this happened.


During this time Richard Mark was our biggest customer. This showroom was owned by a fellow who loved to live large, and I was never comfortable with this guy's ability to spend lavishly on a lifestyle that was far bigger than his business could sustain. If you can afford the lifestyle - that's one thing. But if you're burning through money faster than it's coming in: that's a disaster waiting to happen.

As long as orders and deposits kept flowing in faster than he could spend it, I figured he could stay above water. But once the tide turned, I knew it would be time to get off the proverbial beach - because the tsunami of economic reality was going to crash hard.


After the stock market crash of October 1987 it didn't take long for the warning signs to begin to flash. Initially it became evident that new money was being used to pay older bills - a classic example of "robbing Peter to pay Paul". Things gradually worsened as evidence of check kiting began to appear.

To understand what check kiting is, one has to realize that in the 1980s electronic banking was pretty much non-existent for small business. When you wrote a check that was drawn on an account in one bank, and deposited in an account at another bank, the process of clearing and transferring the funds was mostly a paper process that sometimes took days to work through the system. This window of time was known as a "float", and it created the opportunity to write checks and make payments in situations where there were insufficient funds in the account.

In light of the eroding financial situation at Richard Mark, I stepped up my efforts to transition into more work from companies such as Brueton, Dakota Jackson, Karl Springer and Ron Seff. At Brueton I was always turned away stone cold at the door. The folks at Springer seemed immersed in their own internal chaos, and I also made little headway there. But fortunately some doors were opened at Ron Seff and Dakota Jackson. These latter two seemed to have a backlog of work that would give them some forward momentum in the face of a rapidly slowing market, and I was happy to segue into these new opportunities to make tables, wall units, built-ins and other assorted furniture.

By 1989 the situation at Richard Mark had reached detonation point. Although we were now shipping on a truckload basis, the payment situation had deteriorated to the point where old balances weren't getting paid until new shipments were ready to deliver. Checks from Richard Mark were now bouncing on a continuous basis, with new checks replacing old checks at a rate that made it near impossible to figure out what our true account balance was at any given time.

This dynamic also created a situation of perpetual financial entrapment, because the only way to leverage payment for owed monies was to literally roll over debt with new deliveries. In this scenario I figured there was only one way of escape, but it would involve a 2-step process.

The first step was to create a "phantom truck". For one month we went through the motions of pretending to work on a new batch of orders. Phone calls were made and faxes were exchanged to maintain the illusion of business as usual. Meanwhile, we established an account at Barclay's Bank in New York - at the same branch that Richard Mark had their account.

The deal was that when the next truck was ready to ship Richard Mark would make a direct deposit into our account at Barclay's. By this point Richard Mark was struggling to pay balances on old orders that had already been delivered and THEY had been paid for. Given the small float window of an intra-bank transaction I knew there would only be a brief opportunity of time to clear our funds from the account before that check also bounced.

On the scheduled day of delivery I caught an early flight to New York and cabbed myself to a street corner opposite the bank. And there I waited. Shortly after the bank opened at 9:00 a.m. - and right on cue - I watched from a distance as Richard Mark's accountant walked down the street and into the bank to deposit the check as agreed. I knew the check was worthless, and so did the accountant, but Barclay's wouldn't figure it out until the paperwork made the round of the desks.

After watching the accountant leave the bank I made my way inside, and drew a certified check to empty our account. Due to the nature of the paper system at the time the funds were there - at least as far as the bank was concerned. Therefore they didn't balk at giving me the money.

With certified check in hand I called Richard Mark's president to give him the news.

To make a long story short: our relationship with our biggest customer was now terminated.

As difficult as this was to do, the outcome was inevitable because Richard Mark was now unravelling to the point of no return. Under these circumstances I felt it was better to decelerate our company now than go full bore into financial oblivion as an unsecured creditor.

Teresa was also now pregnant with our second child.

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