Edith's Cabinet part 1

1938 wasn't the best year. 

Although there had been advances with the economy since FDR began the New Deal... for reasons historians consider 'natural cycles' 1937 through 1938 saw a recession dip.  Unemployment was up, and the business sector blamed Roosevelt, and to make matters worse there were hints of war from Europe.

The 'Domestic' sewing machine was first produced in 1869.  It was an independent company from Buffalo, New York until the 1920's when White Manufacturing of Cleveland purchased them in 1924. I can only imagine the times and the calamity of '38 when Edith and her cabinet were produced and sold. It's almost paradoxical to have bought a sewing machine in that year. One would have had to have a great deal of optimism in very uncertain times.

The machine and cabinet were made and combined in White's third Cleveland factory located on Main and Elm streets.  Although the cabinet with turned lower legs and a swinging door is very common for the period. I can 'almost' identify the White style at a glance. They just have a 'look' about them.

Edith's cabinet is certainly curious.

(after considerable sanding)

There are a lot of subtle details that make restoring this piece a more time-consuming than others. The first, of course, are the turned legs. Without having access to a lathe I find myself sanding it by hand and each turn creates  more fine detail work.

I've learned to take a sheet of sand paper, flip it over, and then add a layer of duct tape across the back. Once I've done this then I cut out a long strip of sand paper about a quarter of an inch wide. The tape backing keeps the paper from wearing out too quickly and snapping as I pull it back and forth around the spindle details.

Occasionally, even this small width isn't sharp enough 

and I'll twist the sandpaper into a long thin tube for finer areas.


The sewing area:

The sewing deck finish is coming off far more easily on the sewing machine side while the leaf side is taking more effort. Normal sand paper cleaned off the machine side, and it just wasn't working at all on the left leaf side. I  spent an hour with sand paper and managed maybe a third of the area. At that time I gave up and went back to the trusted piece of glass. Scraping with the glass piece must be done with great attention so to not dig into the wood or your fingers... and to avoid polishing. It took a half an hour to clear the other two-thirds with the glass.

All around the cabinet are more details that need to be dealt with a sharp folded edge of sandpaper. Whether it's the bevel on the sewing deck edge and it's two tiers... or the three distinct lines of the raised front panel... 

or the curved scroll work.

One other trick, besides the tape-backed sandpaper strips or the glass shard, or having to roll small sandpaper strips loosely to slowly sand the fluted bits... I've also learned to keep my Linseed oil rag at the handy. I'm not oiling the wood to crate a finish. The rag has residual oil in the material and I'll rub it across an area that I've been sanding and wait for the oils to 'show' me where I've missed paint or finish.

This cabinet won't be ready in a hurry, and yet it is exactly those time-consuming details that make it such an attractive piece to recover.  I do often wonder why I do it. Wasn't it Einstien that defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again and getting the same results. Here, again, I'll have a lot of hours in refinishing... and chances are no one will want the machine.

During the sanding I found a problem. The White cabinets of this era are slightly unusual in that they have a cable assisted lifting mechanism that helps lower and raise the machine. When the lid is up and the machine is out this cable also serves as the anchor which keeps the single left leaf horizontal. The cable, however, does this on the 'back' of the sewing surface which leaves the front hanging. The only thing keeping the leaf upright in the front is the cut of the edge of the leaf wedged against the edge of the sewing surface wood - unless you open the front door and slip it's edge under the leaf. Since the cable and the two hinges keep everything taunt, there shouldn't be an issue... but in the photo above, you can see that the wood has cracked under the front hinge. The stress also transmitted into the wood on the outside as seen below:

I'm going to have to remove the leaf entirely and see if this can be repaired, there is a slight warp in the hinge. I'll remove it and straighten it and then slip some wood glue into the crack and clamp it. If this isn't enough of a repair, then I may have to get out the big guns and perhaps drill a hole and insert a piece of dowel or a cut a butterfly. It will depend on the depth and extent of the fissure.

The other repair that may be needed is the laminate for the top. 

This one one is mostly there, but there are chips, and the surface has a lot of discoloration.

In the end I hope to have a nice cabinet, but even as I worked on it through National Sewing Machine Day I suspect that even if the cabinet and machine become an attractive and functioning piece... it is perhaps for not. There are probably a lot of other things I could be doing with my spare time that might be more adventurous, lucrative, or rewarding, and yet I do enjoy this work and always learn something new with each project.

Here's a photo of the unusual bobbin for this machine.

This is the White Rotary bobbin case number 836.

It's not an easy piece to find, and yet I have to find another one

because it's the same exact bobbin case that the Franklin Rotary 

sitting on the bench will need when it becomes the next machine project.