PINEAPPLE

Back in the late twenty-teens, I worked in Steve Marshall's Historic Window Shop in Mansfield Four Corners, just north of the University of Connecticut. Our specialty then, as is mine, is the repair and rejuvenation of historic windows, and as far as I know, he's still doing it, and is one of the finest in the state at this particular craft. I'm no slouch myself, but he plies the northern waters and I am a coastal guy. We would occasionally get some interesting non-window projects to work on, such as this wood newel-topper that graced the top of some column somewhere. He gave it to me to restore, since he had other things to do. Personally I think he took one look at it, saw how much work it would be, and told me to get busy. I don't blame him; it was a pain in the ass. It had to be clamped and glued, then filled and sanded, then primed and painted, each coat needing more sanding. Sanding was the biggest pain, as it has so many angles and a layer of unremovable paint that needed to be evened out. Let me explain.

We often steamed our windows to remove glazing putty before we'd repair, fill, sand, prime, reinstall glass, putty, and add paint coats. It's the industry standard, and we're good at it. I've built many steamers and worked in more than one glass shop, including my own.

But if you put this pineapple, as we called it, into the steamer, you'll end up with a bunch of warped, curved, and grain-widened pieces that become unglued in the steamer and can't be put back together again, all the King's horses be damned. And we didn't want to build another.

So it was sand, sand, sand, all with little pieces of sandpaper and fingergloves made of many, many latex gloves cut to pieces.

I think it looks pretty good, and so did Steve, who is quite the perfectionist.