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If it weren’t for Joseph T. West, you’d probably have to read some other nattering editor’s weblog.
West, my maternal grandfather, began his career at Western Electric by building oak phone booths during the Depression, according to some accounts in our family. He helped me build my first workbench when I was 8. He introduced me to power tools (the table saw was verboten in the Schwarz household; but when I went to his place for the summer the band saw was allowed , even encouraged).
I still use his workbench at my shop at home. And my first set of machines and power tools came from his shop, traveled over the mountains of West Virginia and got me started in making furniture as soon as I left college.
In fact, it’s his fault that I’m restoring this stubborn Rockwell 28-200 band saw. His 1930s-era Craftsman band saw (the one I had used in his shop) had passed to me and had become my baseline for what a band saw should be. Other saws haven’t really measured up, and so I’ve been struggling with fixing up this 27-year-old Rockwell that was still “new” in the box when I got my hands on it last Saturday.
The electricals on this saw have been a pain, particularly the magnetic switch. So this morning, I chucked the idea of adapting the magnetic switch and decided to install a heavy-duty 20-amp 4-pole switch instead (cost $8.47). The installation went smoothly; no modifications were necessary to get the band saw, the new switch and the new motor all wired up.
Than came the awful moment of truth: I plugged the saw into the wall and flipped the switch.
I was rewarded with the “thunk” of the motor’s capacitor (a sound as sweet as a perfectly working handplane, I assure you) and the motor spun up to speed. But there was a problem. The motor was spinning clockwise, and the band saw needs it spinning counter-clockwise.
Switching an induction motor to spin the opposite way isn’t a big deal, we do it all the time in our shop at Popular Woodworking. But there was a problem here: The motor was probably 30 years old and the instructions were not at hand. I took a look at the motor’s leads. Because the motor could also be rewired for 230-volt operation, it was a complicated affair under the hood. I switched a couple leads that looked promising, but I was rewarded only with tripped breakers.
I stood there and began to get discouraged. But then I felt the ghost of Joseph T. West. Grandad was a stickler for detail. And when I acquired his tools and machines, I was amazed at the stack of manuals and supporting documents that came with the shop machinery. I still have his receipt for his contractor’s saw (a $288 expense).
On a lark I went to my office and opened the file cabinet drawer with his musty files , I have a problem with throwing paper away. Within five minutes I had found the instruction manual for the motor, a four-page document that explained everything I needed to know. I went to the basement, switched leads #2 and #5 and flipped the switch.
Perfect.
Within 15 minutes I got the entire saw assembled and on its mobile base. It was turning out to be a very good Sunday, thanks to Grandad. Now I just need a Powertwist belt, some rubber washers to reduce some vibrations and a new blade. I’m so close.
