Was Your Grandfather More Handy Than You?

November 02, 2011, By Andy Hinds 3 comments

Andy Hinds

A couple of years ago, a friend of mine—a historian, book nerd and pretty handy guy—brought me a gift he had picked up in a used book store. It’s called “99 One Evening Projects.” He gave it to me as kind of a joke, since I was in the throes of a massive remodel/addition on my own house, and the last thing I needed was another project.

Even though I’ve been done with the addition for quite some time now, I haven’t tried even one of these 99 projects. Nonetheless, the book has been a reliable source of amusement for me. What makes it such a great curiosity is how it reflects its era: it is an updated edition, published in 1947, of a book that had been printed a half dozen times since 1936.

"99 One Evening Projects" is a collection of articles from “The Home Craftsman Magazine,” a DIY monthly that ran from the 1930s to the 1960s. It’s one of those historical artifacts that brings into relief the textures and attitudes of the time. In this case, it creates a sketch (an idealized one, no doubt) of the middle-class family man who has enough leisure time to build things for fun, to satisfy household necessities, and even for profit, and enough money and floor space to maintain a well-appointed home workshop.

Almost every facet of this book speaks to the cultural norms of the era. The illustrations of craftsmen in action show well-groomed guys with their shirtsleeves rolled up, their ties and slacks protected by work aprons. Benign sexism pervades the pages: there are many gender-specific projects, and anything that goes in the kitchen or bathroom, or might be helpful in taking care of children, is definitely meant for the “lady-folk.” The diction is quite formal compared to current DIY literature, with the projects presented in full sentences and paragraphs that read more like essays than instructions. There is an entire chapter called “For Your Smoking Pleasure” that includes ashtrays, cigarette dispensers, tobacco jars, pipe trays and my favorite, a cigarette box in the shape of a tiny cradle.

In terms of economics—and I may be reading too much into this book, which was probably published for a niche market—it’s interesting to think that there was an era when someone would consider making an ashtray rather than just buying one. These days, you would spend more on the sheet of pewter and the block of walnut—and the gas to drive to different specialty shops to get them—than you would on a dozen ashtrays from the store.