Walter smiled too.
“They might.”
Leonard thought it was a joke.
Nearly a year after the first warped table, Walter tried again.
This time he selected staves dried slowly and confirmed stable.
He changed his joint design.
Allowed for wood movement.
Reduced the amount of forced flattening.
Used narrower sections.
Kept some char.
Not enough to rub black onto clothing.
Enough to preserve the history.
He built another kitchen table.
Rich amber across the center.
Dark streaks.
Small nail marks.
Curved grain.
He finished it carefully.
Then used it.
Winter.
Spring.
Summer.
He checked with a straightedge.
Measured joints.
Nothing moved.
No cracks.
No warping.
One problem solved.
The second problem was harder.
Did anybody care?
In July 1982, a cabinetmaker named Thomas Bell came from Columbus to look at an old Farmall tractor Walter had advertised.
Thomas was forty-four.
Built custom cabinets and furniture.
He walked into the farmhouse for coffee.
Stopped.
Looked at the table.
Forgot the tractor for several seconds.
“Where did you get this oak?”
Walter noticed the wording.
Not:
Where did you buy this table?
Not:
What finish is that?
Where did you get this oak?
Walter answered:
“Whiskey barrels.”
Thomas touched the surface.
“This is barrel stock?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Varies.”
“You have more?”
Walter smiled.
“A little.”
He led him behind the barn.
Thomas stopped.
Hundreds of whole barrels remained under cover.
Inside the shed, stacked staves filled racks.
Thomas walked silently.
Picked up one.
Smelled it.
Examined char.
Looked at the grain.
“How are you drying these?”
Walter explained.
Thomas asked moisture levels.
Walter showed the notebook.
Dates.
Weights.
Readings.
Condition.
Thomas looked impressed.
“You figured this out yourself?”
“Wood argued until I listened.”
Thomas laughed.
He offered to buy twelve barrels.
Ninety-five dollars each.
Walter's mind did the arithmetic immediately.
$1,140.
Twelve barrels.
More than the original $750 purchase price for all 1,140.
But Walter said:
“Six.”
Thomas frowned.
“Why six?”
“Because I don't know you can sell what you think you can sell.”
Thomas smiled.
“And if I can?”
“Come back.”
Thomas took six.
Walter made him sign an invoice listing condition.
Used whiskey barrels.
Reclaimed oak.
Material requires continued acclimation before final use.
Thomas laughed.
“You really are a farmer.”
“What does that mean?”
“Everything gets written down.”
“Yes.”
Three months later, Thomas returned.
He parked near the barn.
Walked into the shop.
“Thirty.”
Walter looked up.
“What?”
“I want thirty barrels.”
“What happened to six?”
“Sold.”
“All?”
“Three tables.”
“Two cabinet jobs.”
“Customers asked where the wood came from.”
Thomas put a checkbook on the bench.
“I’ll pay one twenty-five each.”
Walter stared at him.
“Why more?”
“Because now I know what it's worth.”