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EUROPEAN APPRENTICESHIP SYSTEM
Hello, my name is Stuart Geisler. I am an industrial blacksmith. The path that I followed in becoming a blacksmith may be interesting to the members of IFORGEIRON . From a modern American perspective, I became a practitioner of this craft in a highly unusual manner. I thank my lucky stars for the fortuitous way in which I learned blacksmithing. The opportunity that the Universe provided me in becoming a blacksmith invokes a profound sense of gratitude. I believe that by describing my experiences, and some of the techniques that I have been taught in a series of articles will enable me to pay back this karma debt. I hope you enjoy it.
Back in 1975, I was a graduate student, studying astrophysics. Subsequent to the moon landings, there was great interest in these fields, to the point where there was an overabundance of people owning graduate degrees in this field. In other words, jobs were hard to come by in astronomy. My younger brother had developed an interest in blacksmithing, under the auspices of tomes like “The Modern Blacksmith” and Bealer’s groundbreaking work. I used to help him drag his forge and anvil into our driveway, while he puttered around, making bowie knives and such. This craft looked magical to me, and immediately sparked my interest. Lo and behold, while looking for employment as an astrophysicist, close to the advertisements alphabetically in the want ads in the Philadelphia Inquirer was an advertisement for the position of Apprentice Industrial Blacksmith. When I called, they set up an interview in their plant, which was a division of American Hoist and Derrick (Amhoist). I showed up to the interview in a suit and tie, which was a very wise move. In the waiting room were other candidates for the position, all dressed in blue jeans and sneakers. The interviewer, the plant manager, was accompanied in the office by an older Russian gentleman, approximately 70 years old, who was their blacksmith. Both of these gentlemen also wore suits and ties. They walked me through the plant, which was separated into two sections, their machine shop, and their assembly, welding, and forging shop. The former section was mostly manned by American workers, mostly machinists, dressed in blue jeans. The latter section had employees who were almost uniformly Eastern European, all wearing khaki uniforms. The interviewers obviously liked me, and told me to show up the next day, with work clothes, for work.
When I arrived there, while the eastern Europeans were changing from their suits and ties into uniforms, the Russian who was there at the interview the previous day introduced himself, through an interpreter, as Fyodor Czub, the blacksmith. I realized in shock that he didn’t speak a word of English!
One of his English-speaking friends told me to follow Czub to the blacksmith shop, where he lit the fire, telling me to watch carefully, and showed me what they manufacture in that shop. All sorts of lifting equipment, from lumber tongs to I-beam clamps, from plate lifting clamps to steel shackles for other machinery that this company manufactured, as well as edged tools for other divisions of amhoist. He then proceeded to manufacture specially shaped chain links, all day long, using bending forks in a vice to bend them. I will write an article soon on how to bend shapes in vice-mounted bending forks, and how to make the forks properly yourself at your forge. The advantage of using tight vice-mounted bending forks is lack of hammer marks, which is the sign of a skilled smith. He also showed me how to bend these same links over the anvil horn, as well as a bending jig made by himself, which allows the smith to make uniform bends. Around three o’clock in the afternoon, he pointed to me, and said, in broken English “now you do it”, and handed me a pair of tongs and a pile of 5/8 inch uniformly cut round pieces of mild steel. Rather than using the bending jig, I tried his bending forks, and heated and started bending links. To my absolute pleasant surprise, I was bending one link after another to uniform size and shape. I had watched him forge over 100 uniform links all day, without saying one word. He didn’t talk to me all day, until the time he told me to start bending links. After about the fifth link in a row that came out correctly, he walked over to the welding station to bring a translator to speak to me. The translator explained to me that I was the fifth American trainee they had hired in succession, and that NONE of the predecessors had worked out. He told me that Czub was in absolute shock that an American could stand there all day, keeping his mouth shut and learn patiently what he was showing. Czub said to me, sans translation, “you make good blacksmith”. I was HOOKED!
At the end of the day, as he did for the next five years, the plant manager came by to our station to check out the progress of our work. He asked a smiling Czub how I was working out, through a translator. After giving his beaming progress report, the plant manager made an arrangement with my mentor that he would come in on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the next five years, supervising my training and making sure that I could take over his work, eventually. On the days he wasn’t there to train me, I was to practice, practice, practice on assigned work that he and the plant manager would give me to both hone my skills and give him a rest! This was hard work; some of the lumber tongs we made were made out of 1 3/8 “ round 1045 steel………….hard work for a man in his seventies.
Because of my absolute respect for his knowledge and his willingness to teach me, Mr. Czub bent over backwards over the next five years to teach me anything he could. He and I used to speed up our work assignments, so that with about an hour to spare each day, Czub would teach me blacksmithing skills unrelated to our work assignments, such as how to forge strap hinges, door latches, and other forms of smithery unrelated to our manufacturing. He even showed me how to shoe an ox! Much of what I know about triphammers and the associated tooling for these machines he taught me also.
I mentioned earlier about the different modes of dress in this plant between the Americans and the Europeans working there. This sartorial dichotomy is indicative of attitudes towards workmanship, in my opinion. The Europeans in this shop were without exception trained under an old apprenticeship system, in which much respect is shown towards master craftsmen. Those craftsmen themselves have a profound respect for the system that spawned their skills. Although an American, I emulated the European training me; rather than wearing my work clothes to the plant, I came in a suit every day, and changed into my work uniform. I firmly believe that Czub was way more willing to teach me because of the fact that I fit in well with their mindset of respect for craftsmanship. This archaic system doesn’t work well for everyone, but for me, I guess it worked out fine.
Years later, having saved my money while working for this company, I decided to branch out on my own, building my own blacksmith shop on my land. Because I had been a very good employee, the folks at Amhoist provided me with the opportunity to subcontract the work I did for them as an employee, which worked out very well for my business. Czub retired, knowing that he had trained someone to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately, Mr. Czub passed on in 1996. From heaven, I know he is smiling at the fact that I am going to write a series of articles for this forum on some of the things he taught me The next installment will be the use of vice-mounted bending forks, complete with pictures and drawings, for bending steel and iron without leaving hammermarks.
Stuart Geisler aka stuartthesmith
Hello, my name is Stuart Geisler. I am an industrial blacksmith. The path that I followed in becoming a blacksmith may be interesting to the members of IFORGEIRON . From a modern American perspective, I became a practitioner of this craft in a highly unusual manner. I thank my lucky stars for the fortuitous way in which I learned blacksmithing. The opportunity that the Universe provided me in becoming a blacksmith invokes a profound sense of gratitude. I believe that by describing my experiences, and some of the techniques that I have been taught in a series of articles will enable me to pay back this karma debt. I hope you enjoy it.
Back in 1975, I was a graduate student, studying astrophysics. Subsequent to the moon landings, there was great interest in these fields, to the point where there was an overabundance of people owning graduate degrees in this field. In other words, jobs were hard to come by in astronomy. My younger brother had developed an interest in blacksmithing, under the auspices of tomes like “The Modern Blacksmith” and Bealer’s groundbreaking work. I used to help him drag his forge and anvil into our driveway, while he puttered around, making bowie knives and such. This craft looked magical to me, and immediately sparked my interest. Lo and behold, while looking for employment as an astrophysicist, close to the advertisements alphabetically in the want ads in the Philadelphia Inquirer was an advertisement for the position of Apprentice Industrial Blacksmith. When I called, they set up an interview in their plant, which was a division of American Hoist and Derrick (Amhoist). I showed up to the interview in a suit and tie, which was a very wise move. In the waiting room were other candidates for the position, all dressed in blue jeans and sneakers. The interviewer, the plant manager, was accompanied in the office by an older Russian gentleman, approximately 70 years old, who was their blacksmith. Both of these gentlemen also wore suits and ties. They walked me through the plant, which was separated into two sections, their machine shop, and their assembly, welding, and forging shop. The former section was mostly manned by American workers, mostly machinists, dressed in blue jeans. The latter section had employees who were almost uniformly Eastern European, all wearing khaki uniforms. The interviewers obviously liked me, and told me to show up the next day, with work clothes, for work.
When I arrived there, while the eastern Europeans were changing from their suits and ties into uniforms, the Russian who was there at the interview the previous day introduced himself, through an interpreter, as Fyodor Czub, the blacksmith. I realized in shock that he didn’t speak a word of English!
One of his English-speaking friends told me to follow Czub to the blacksmith shop, where he lit the fire, telling me to watch carefully, and showed me what they manufacture in that shop. All sorts of lifting equipment, from lumber tongs to I-beam clamps, from plate lifting clamps to steel shackles for other machinery that this company manufactured, as well as edged tools for other divisions of amhoist. He then proceeded to manufacture specially shaped chain links, all day long, using bending forks in a vice to bend them. I will write an article soon on how to bend shapes in vice-mounted bending forks, and how to make the forks properly yourself at your forge. The advantage of using tight vice-mounted bending forks is lack of hammer marks, which is the sign of a skilled smith. He also showed me how to bend these same links over the anvil horn, as well as a bending jig made by himself, which allows the smith to make uniform bends. Around three o’clock in the afternoon, he pointed to me, and said, in broken English “now you do it”, and handed me a pair of tongs and a pile of 5/8 inch uniformly cut round pieces of mild steel. Rather than using the bending jig, I tried his bending forks, and heated and started bending links. To my absolute pleasant surprise, I was bending one link after another to uniform size and shape. I had watched him forge over 100 uniform links all day, without saying one word. He didn’t talk to me all day, until the time he told me to start bending links. After about the fifth link in a row that came out correctly, he walked over to the welding station to bring a translator to speak to me. The translator explained to me that I was the fifth American trainee they had hired in succession, and that NONE of the predecessors had worked out. He told me that Czub was in absolute shock that an American could stand there all day, keeping his mouth shut and learn patiently what he was showing. Czub said to me, sans translation, “you make good blacksmith”. I was HOOKED!
At the end of the day, as he did for the next five years, the plant manager came by to our station to check out the progress of our work. He asked a smiling Czub how I was working out, through a translator. After giving his beaming progress report, the plant manager made an arrangement with my mentor that he would come in on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the next five years, supervising my training and making sure that I could take over his work, eventually. On the days he wasn’t there to train me, I was to practice, practice, practice on assigned work that he and the plant manager would give me to both hone my skills and give him a rest! This was hard work; some of the lumber tongs we made were made out of 1 3/8 “ round 1045 steel………….hard work for a man in his seventies.
Because of my absolute respect for his knowledge and his willingness to teach me, Mr. Czub bent over backwards over the next five years to teach me anything he could. He and I used to speed up our work assignments, so that with about an hour to spare each day, Czub would teach me blacksmithing skills unrelated to our work assignments, such as how to forge strap hinges, door latches, and other forms of smithery unrelated to our manufacturing. He even showed me how to shoe an ox! Much of what I know about triphammers and the associated tooling for these machines he taught me also.
I mentioned earlier about the different modes of dress in this plant between the Americans and the Europeans working there. This sartorial dichotomy is indicative of attitudes towards workmanship, in my opinion. The Europeans in this shop were without exception trained under an old apprenticeship system, in which much respect is shown towards master craftsmen. Those craftsmen themselves have a profound respect for the system that spawned their skills. Although an American, I emulated the European training me; rather than wearing my work clothes to the plant, I came in a suit every day, and changed into my work uniform. I firmly believe that Czub was way more willing to teach me because of the fact that I fit in well with their mindset of respect for craftsmanship. This archaic system doesn’t work well for everyone, but for me, I guess it worked out fine.
Years later, having saved my money while working for this company, I decided to branch out on my own, building my own blacksmith shop on my land. Because I had been a very good employee, the folks at Amhoist provided me with the opportunity to subcontract the work I did for them as an employee, which worked out very well for my business. Czub retired, knowing that he had trained someone to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately, Mr. Czub passed on in 1996. From heaven, I know he is smiling at the fact that I am going to write a series of articles for this forum on some of the things he taught me The next installment will be the use of vice-mounted bending forks, complete with pictures and drawings, for bending steel and iron without leaving hammermarks.
Stuart Geisler aka stuartthesmith
