<img class="lazy" height="1" width="1" style="display:none" src="data:image/svg+xml,%3Csvg%20xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2000/svg'%20viewBox='0%200%201%201'%3E%3C/svg%3E" data-src="https://www.facebook.com/tr?id=376816859356052&amp;ev=PageView&amp;noscript=1">
 In End Grain

We may receive a commission when you use our affiliate links. However, this does not impact our recommendations.

An illuminating look at the life of a 19th century country cabinetmaker.

Daydreaming in my shop, I’m imagining a warm summer day way back in 1899. Just after supper, Henry Lapp sits at a pine table outside a tavern on the Lancaster Turnpike, a few dusty miles past the long bridge over the Schuykill River. He’s a cabinetmaker from the heart of old Amish country in Lancaster County, some forty miles away—from a town called Bird-in-Hand, to be exact—and he’s on his way to Market Street, in Philadelphia, to drum up some business.

Henry has a new idea for a washbench, an important piece of furniture back home in the country. It typically holds water buckets for scrubbing freshly-pulled vegetables or dirty hands. Most washbenches were humble affairs, but this one is stylish: It will have a two-level, tin-lined recessed top, graduated drawers and compound bun feet. It’s an ambitious piece.

Henry is busy sketching his washbench in a small store-bought notebook which has a plain, soft cover and a sewn binding.


 

By registering, I acknowledge and agree to Active Interest Media's (AIM) Terms of Service and to AIM's use of my contact information to communicate with me about AIM, its brands or its third-party partners' products, services, events and research opportunities. AIM's use of the information I provide will be consistent with the AIM Privacy Policy.


Start typing and press Enter to search