A stick-back Windsor, probably 1890s, brought in with two broken spindles and a seat that had been screwed to the legs at some point in its life by somebody in a hurry. Six weeks in and out of the bench between other jobs.
What to keep
The first decision on any repair is how much of the object survives it. A chair like this is worth more with an honest old repair visible than with every trace of its history sanded away. We kept the finish, kept the wear on the arms, and kept a previous owner’s initials cut into the underside of the seat.
Taking it apart
Hide glue, which is the restorer’s great good fortune: a damp cloth and a hot iron, and joints that have been together for a century come apart without splitting anything. The screws somebody had added were another matter, and left three holes that had to be plugged with elm before the seat could take a leg again.
- Photograph and label every part before anything moves.
- Steam, do not lever. Levering breaks the socket, not the tenon.
- Clean the old glue out of both surfaces — new glue on old glue is a joint that fails in a year.
The spindles
Both replacements were riven from air-dried ash and shaved on a horse rather than turned, because the originals were shaved and the difference is visible from across a room. Riven stock follows the grain, so it bends without breaking — a sawn spindle of the same dimensions would snap the first time somebody leaned back hard.
A repair should be findable by anyone who looks for it, and invisible to everyone who does not.
Finishing back in
New ash next to 130-year-old ash is jarring, so the replacements were coloured back with a weak water stain and then waxed to match the sheen of the surrounding surface. Not to hide them — up close they are obviously new — but so the eye reads the chair as one object rather than as a repair.