Dated December 14, 2016

Thirty-eight years ago, I was enrolled in the building trades program at Alfred State College in New York. While it was designed as a two-year program, I could only afford one year.

Earning a formal degree was never a priority for me; I simply desired to learn about subjects that fascinated me. After spending the summer of ‘77 assisting with the renovation of an old Vermont inn, I developed a strong interest in carpentry.

My goal at that time was to acquire at least one practical skill that could provide me with a livelihood, and that’s precisely what I did. Looking back, that single year dedicated to building trades education proved to be a valuable investment of time and money.

Our inaugural project as a class involved constructing a sawhorse. Each of us had to build one by strictly adhering to a blueprint provided by our instructor, Mr. Burdick. I held onto that blueprint for a long time and wish I still had it today.

Building a sawhorse from the blueprint was an excellent learning experience. Our work was graded, and Mr. Burdick emphasized that he would be paying close attention to how securely the legs were fitted into the top. We used handsaws and chisels to create the slots for each leg.

I distinctly recall that my classmate, Jim Schillinger, achieved the tightest mortise-and-tenon joint in the entire class. It turned out he had previous carpentry experience, but I later discovered he had also soaked the end grain of his sawhorse legs in water to make them swell for an extra tight fit – a secret Mr. Burdick never uncovered.

A well-designed sawhorse should be lightweight yet sturdy and stable, and the ones we built back then perfectly embodied those qualities. Once completed, they served us well for the remainder of the year as we constructed a house.

After completing school and securing employment with a local contractor, I decided to build myself a pair of sawhorses based on the blueprint from my Alfred State days. I invested significant effort into this project, determined to make them a testament to my craftsmanship and meticulousness. Upon completion, I meticulously painted my name, “H. C. Kimball,” on the horizontal brace beneath the top.

My sawhorses garnered numerous compliments and proved incredibly useful. I even crafted a pair for my boss as a Christmas gift one year. On Christmas Eve, I discreetly placed them in his yard, covered by a tarp, right in front of his door. His surprise and appreciation brought back fond memories.

After five productive years with that contractor, during which I gained a wealth of knowledge, I moved on to work for another local builder. My sawhorses continued to serve me well, their practicality recognized by all.

It wasn’t long before I decided to organize a sawhorse-making gathering one Saturday, inviting several coworkers to join me in crafting our own pairs based on my design, with our boss generously providing the lumber. We were a highly motivated team.

My sawhorse design remained a constant throughout the decade I spent as a self-employed remodeling contractor. For a period, during my partnership years, I painted “Bestbuilt Construction” on the horizontal support. Later, I switched to “H.C. Kimball & Co.” for the remainder of my self-employment journey.

Throughout my years as a carpenter and remodeler, I never encountered another tradesperson using sawhorses quite like mine, except, of course, for those I worked alongside. However, numerous other professionals took notice and complimented their quality. They were not merely aesthetically pleasing; their versatility and practicality were evident.

I believe the fundamental design of my sawhorses stems from a traditional approach commonly employed by carpenters in the early to mid-20th century. For some unknown reason, this design gradually fell out of favor, replaced by heavier, bulkier sawhorses often constructed using 2x4s and plywood.

Upon transitioning from self-employment to a position within the state prison system, my sawhorses had endured significant wear and tear, a testament to years of heavy use. Lacking adequate storage space, I reluctantly left them outside behind my workshop. Over time, they deteriorated to the point of being unusable. It was then that I salvaged the broken one depicted in the first photograph and tucked it away beneath a storage shed, intending to use it as a template for a future pair… someday.

That “someday” arrived a couple of months ago when I committed to a community project, helping to build a shed for a former classmate. I couldn’t fathom undertaking such a task without a reliable pair of sawhorses.

And so, the day before the project commenced, I constructed the two sawhorses shown in the second photograph.

While Mr. Burdick wouldn’t likely award me a high grade for these particular sawhorses, I built them in just over an hour, prioritizing functionality over meticulous craftsmanship.

The wood for the tops came from some old 2x6 boards I had on hand, while the remaining lumber was repurposed from a packing crate that once housed chicken plucker bearings, a product I offer through my Planet Whizbang mail-order business. As a result, these sawhorses were practically free.

The third photograph shows them being put to good use during the shed construction project.