THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, August 5, 1994 TAG: 9408040225
SECTION: CHESAPEAKE CLIPPER PAGE: 14 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Cover Story
SOURCE: BY ERIC FEBER, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 173 lines
Near a greenish algae pond
The ranch's smithy stands;
Dale Jones, a mighty man is he
With large and sinewy hands.
And the muscles of his beefy arms
Are strong as iron bands.
- With apologies to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, author of
``The Village Blacksmith.''
RHYTHMS EMANATE from Dale R. Jones' blacksmith shop.
There's the clanging rhythm of his handmade hammer as he beats a 5-inch steel square on his German-made anvil.
There's the rhythm of the forge, whooshing and puffing as it blows the coals to a white-hot intensity of 2,100 degrees Fahrenheit, hot enough to make glowing steel and iron as pliable as taffy.
There's the rat-a-tat-tat rhythm of his electric trip hammer and his foot-operated treadle hammer, two machines able to deliver more pressure than even his own beefy arms.
Along with Jones' own version of the anvil chorus, the shop also gives off the acrid smells of hot metal and burning coals.
``One can always hear and smell if a blacksmith shop is in the area,'' Jones said with a smile.
When there's no clanging and banging, there's always the rhythm of gospel music and the cadence of hell-fire-and-brimstone preaching coming from his small radio, always tuned to a local religious station, always delivering the Word and inspirational tunes.
The Word, though, for Jones is hard work, the kind that creates sweat on his brow and glistens on his massive forearms. He couples this hard work with the brute force of his hammer, his artistic bent and his knowledge of metals and densities to create tools, ornaments and other useful and beautiful objects.
Jones' year-old blacksmith shop is located on the Triple R Ranch grounds, smack dab in the heart of bucolic Chesapeake on Bunch Walnuts Road.
His workplace is easily recognizable.
The anvil occupies a space on the dirt floor in the middle of his shop. Next to it is a wooden bench and work table full of tools. A clock and a calendar advertising the Union Pacific Railroad are attached to its wooden walls. The forge is near the anvil and next to that is the large water barrel where Jones cools off the white-hot metal. Spiders and other large insects occupy the shop's darker corners.
Jones lives in a house just across the road from the ranch and walks to his shop each morning to begin his Vulcan chores.
Although he operates the shop on the equestrian ranch, he is not a farrier, or horseshoe blacksmith. He deals mainly in custom-made tools and ornaments. He rents his space from the ranch's owners.
Right after his retirement from the Norfolk Naval Shipyard, he created a fireplace set for the Triple R's massive fireplace in its camper dining hall. Jones said that job allowed him to get to know the Triple R folks and before he knew it he had permission to set up his own shop on its grounds.
He built his shop from scratch last fall and is now trying to make a living as a full-time smithy. But until his skills are more widely known, until he creates more examples of his art to display and show at various art and craft exhibitions, and until more people come to him for custom jobs, he keeps body and soul together as a part-time worker for a plumbing company.
But when not out driving the plumbing company's truck, he's at his shop every morning firing up his forge ready to beat pieces of metal into objets d'art or useful tools.
And Jones looks every bit the blacksmith.
He's a fair-skinned, gentle giant in a massive leather apron who can wield a mighty hammer as effectively as Thor. And when the shop's banging and clanging subsides for a spell, he speaks in quiet and lucid tones, befitting more a professor or college art teacher.
The Nebraska native said he grew up around creative hands. His father ran a carpenter's shop, and next door to it stood a blacksmith shop.
Later, he joined the Navy, concentrated in electronics, and got out in 1970. After the service he said he lasted two months at the University of Nebraska.
``I then came East and got married,'' he said. ``I then got into an apprenticeship blacksmith program at the Norfolk Naval Shipyard. When I got out of the military I wanted to get away from electronics, and I thought smithing was as far away as it could get.''
While working at the shipyard, Jones was reassigned from industrial forging back into electronics and worked at it until October 1993, when he retired. He then decided to go into smithing full time.
Jones is a member in good standing in the Artist Blacksmith's Association of North America (ABANA). He travels to as many of its conventions as he can.
He's attended ABANA conventions at Washington University in St. Louis, Mo., at Alfred State College in Alfred, N.Y., and in Birmingham, Ala.
``People come to these conventions from all over,'' he said. ``They come from Germany, Eng-land, Switzerland and other countries to attend workshops, see demonstrations, learn new techniques and exhibit work.''
At home he said he has about three shelves crammed full of books on blacksmithing, metal working, forging and metallurgy. He also makes occasional visits to Colonial Williamsburg's master smith, Peter Ross, to talk about their craft and exchange ideas.
``But when I'm with him, mostly I'm a sponge soaking up as much of his expertise as I can,'' he said.
When it comes to smithing, Jones said he's a permanent student.
``The more you do, the more you learn,'' he said. ``Whatever skills I pick up is what I can read, see, hear about or do. There's no end to learning. It's like any other craft. I'm always searching for new techniques to apply to the traditional skills. The variations are unlimited; I'm only limited by time.''
One one recent morning, a Triple R Ranch maintenance worker asked Jones if he could fashion a pry-bar out of an old metal rod salvaged from a junk pile.
Jones jammed the rod into the fiery forge. When it glowed white hot, he began to flatten one of the ends to a tapered point, which he then slit with a cutting tool. The other end also was heated and then shaped by chopping off a piece using a hot cut technique.
All of his concentration and energies were focused on the metal rod. Clang-clang-clang! Jones beat away as he fashioned both ends of the rod until it was immersed into the water with a steamy hiss.
After only a few minutes, Jones' strength and skill transformed a piece of junk into a useful tool. He looked at it with a slight smile.
``There's a certain amount of satisfaction of getting a thing done and having a happy customer,'' he said.
Jones, never one to waste anything, has made tools and metal punches out of old car suspension springs and knives out of discarded chain-saw blades.
He has also made crucifixes, candle holders, fireplace sets, nails, hooks, wire racks and was busy making a branding iron for the ranch to brand its picnic tables and other outdoor wooden furniture.
He said his goal is to create a stock of many small tools and implements he can display at various craft and art shows. Once word gets out about his metal wares and expertise, he said, people will begin to buy his unique creations or hire him for more custom jobs, enough jobs to allow him to work at smithing full time.
``There's always something to do or something to make,'' he said. ``Blacksmiths aren't noted for being millionaires, but there's the satisfaction of working something with your own hands, knowledge and skill.''
It's hard to ignore its rhythm, he said. It's the rhythm of creativity and hard work. ILLUSTRATION: Staff photos by STEVE EARLEY
Color on the Cover: Dale R. Jones takes a break in the blacksmith
shop that he operates on land he rents from Triple R Ranch.
Dale R. Jones pounds out a piece of red-hot iron in the blacksmith
shop that he operates on the grounds of Triple R Ranch.
Jones hopes that his works of art in metal will gain in popularity.
Tools of the trade: Jones' handmade hammer and German-made anvil.
Jones gets the fire going in the forge, which brings the coals to a
white-hot intensity of 2,100 degrees Fahrenheit, hot enough to make
glowing steel and iron as pliable as taffy. Then Jones is ready to
beat pieces of metal into objets d'art or useful tools.
ANVIL PARTS
Believe it or not, an anvil isn't just one big hunk of metal. It
has parts, and each part has a name.
There's the near edge and the far edge (depending on where the
smith stands in relation to the anvil).
The sharp end is called the horn and the opposite end, the heel.
The hardy hole is used to insert a special tool to allow one to
cut pieces off a metal object and the pretzel hole is used to punch
holes.
VULCAN TASKS
Dale Jones said there are nine basic techniques in blacksmithing.
The rest are all variations on these nine:
Forge welding, bending, punching, upsetting (pushing the metal
back onto itself), shearing (chiseling the metal back), drawing
(flattening the metal), hot cutting, twisting and slitting.
by CNB