Wayne Anderson: Infills of a Different Breed by Christopher Schwarz

For the last four months I’ve been using one of Wayne Anderson’s improved miter planes as a daily worker in my shop – primarily as a smoothing plane, but also as a block plane end even to shoot the occasional miter. I’m of the mind that these so-called “miter planes” weren’t actually used much for mitering by 17th and 18th century craftsmen, but that’s a topic I’m planning to explore thoroughly in a future column.

My Anderson plane is an excellent worker. When the tool first showed up in my office I was a bit intimidated about using it, covering it with fingerprints and dinging the gorgeously shaped ebony infills. But the plane simply begs to be used, and after 30 minutes of admiring Anderson’s workmanship I took the plane to the shop to sharpen the A2 iron and put the tool to work.

The fluid lines of this chairiot plane made of cocobolo have an almost Victorian flair. Note the patina on the sidewall – this plane is a user.

From a working perspective, Anderson clearly understands plane mechanics. The bed is perfectly true and in the same plane as the section of the steel sole leading up to the mouth. The bed is, in fact, as finely finished as the rest of the wood in the plane. With some infill planes, the wood can shrink enough over time to disrupt the perfect bedding provided by the wood and sole. Anderson uses exceptionally stable wood (ebony in many cases) that has been kiln-dried and then allowed to stabilize in his shop. (Of course, you can always file an infill bed flat if the wood moves – I’ve done it myself to a couple vintage planes.) As delivered, the sole is dead flat within .0015” across its width and length.

Anderson’s unusual infill toothing plane is made with a vintage iron.
The owner, Ralph Brendler, uses it to prepare thin wooden bands
to make Shaker oval boxes.

The A2 iron in my plane is from the shop of toolmaker Vlad Spehar, though Anderson also uses irons from other makers, including Thomas Lie-Nielsen. (For smoothing planes with adjusters, Anderson generally uses Norris-style adjusters from Bob Howard at St. James Bay Tool Co.)

The iron drops smartly into place in the bed, like it was made to sit there. I cinch up the lever cap and then tap the snecked iron a bit with a hammer to center the iron in the mouth and get it projecting just right. The iron responds exactly as it’s supposed to, a testament to the care taken with construction.

I pull a board of curly maple out of the rack – a scrap from a contemporary dresser I built long ago. I keep this board around because it’s a good test bed for new planes that come into the shop. The grain of this board changes direction a couple times and the curl is prominent. It’s a tough board for many planes to surface without tear-out.

An ebony box miter with ivory inlay on the front infill and lever cap screw.
The sidewalls are made from one piece of brass and bent over a form.

But not the Anderson plane. I start with a light cut and take some sub-.001” shavings and the plane performs flawlessly. But perhaps even more telling is how well the plane handles the board as I increase the projection of the cutter to take a .007”-thick shaving. The plane remains in control, the iron refuses to chatter and the board is clear of tear-out. I put down the tool and wonder what sort of person can make a tool that looks this good and performs so well.

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