Other Projects
At Hillsdale College, a wind-sheared maple took out the original small pillar on the left, the sphere on top and the foundation all that remained unscathed. Some bricks stored on school grounds were a good replacement match, and the concrete cap was cast at home.
Over the winter of 2021 I undertook the making of three stained-glass panels for a masonry customer, to fill segmental spaces over a window and two doors. As one not accustomed to working with stained glass, my solder joints were a bit thick (“rustic,” I called them), but they increased the strength of the panels, and given some black patina, pretty much disappeared in the light of their settings.
In 1867 the Ladies’ Oak Grove Cemetery Association was formed, to beautify the grounds that many locals considered an embarrassment. In 1870 the association financed an intricately cut and engraved sandstone archway at the cemetery’s original entrance. A girl scaled the arch around 1960, fell off and broke her arm, so the unfortunate decision was made to raze the arch—for “safety reasons.” The heavy stones were cast to a pile into woods adjoining the cemetery.
I built a base of fieldstone and stones salvaged from the arch, and atop this were set two of the big, original stones, in homage to those Ladies of Hillsdale. They did a fine job. Oak Grove is a fetching place nearly 150 years later, with trees that old.
Here are start-and-finish shots. Not pictured are a pair of concrete benches, fashioned after a stone one at a nearby grave.
I built a base of fieldstone and stones salvaged from the arch, and atop this were set two of the big, original stones, in homage to those Ladies of Hillsdale. They did a fine job. Oak Grove is a fetching place nearly 150 years later, with trees that old.
Here are start-and-finish shots. Not pictured are a pair of concrete benches, fashioned after a stone one at a nearby grave.
The central base stone is a portion of the original keystone, which I inverted because the wider end was flat and the narrow end was not. Also had in mind “symbolism” of some sort, an upside-down arch piece silently rueing its relegation from great height to ground; something along those lines.
A bronze plaque tells the whole story. If you can read it here, you have frighteningly good eyes.
McCormick Masonry takes on quite an array of important projects, including concrete Terrier tail repair. Here I’m smoothing the adhesive in one of the dog’s nether regions.
The dog required no anesthetics for this operation.
The dog required no anesthetics for this operation.
An 1858 bronze bell was removed from its tower on a church of the same year in Reading, Mich., and placed on pallets at its new location, at its desired placement height. My funky scaffold set-up temporarily suspended the bell so I could remove the wide pallets, which set over the spots where I wanted to dig for stone pillar foundations.
Narrower pallets were placed under the bell as the foundations arose, “just in case.” The bell weighs 1,500-2,000 pounds and my trust in this scaffold was hardly entire.
Narrower pallets were placed under the bell as the foundations arose, “just in case.” The bell weighs 1,500-2,000 pounds and my trust in this scaffold was hardly entire.
Heavy angle irons were embedded into the stonework and hidden with old barn beam pieces. An Amish fellow roofed the structure.
The bell is rung by a quarter-inch coated cable run through a pair of pulleys. It is not mobile anymore, just the clapper iron, but the loud ring is amply dramatic.
It can be imagined what a workout this bell was given when the Civil War ended.
The bell is rung by a quarter-inch coated cable run through a pair of pulleys. It is not mobile anymore, just the clapper iron, but the loud ring is amply dramatic.
It can be imagined what a workout this bell was given when the Civil War ended.
Fieldstone post pillars were also built at the building’s entrance. The bell structure is in the background.
The fieldstone arch has just been formed here for a fireplace enclosure—for a ventless LP firebox (foreground). Behind the facing arch stones are two rows of others. Once the mortar had set, I expected no unpleasant surprises in removing the form. The ability of a beaten-up old sawhorse and a couple of vertical planks to temporarily support the weight of the stones was more an early cause of concern.
Another worry was the base being built upon, a four-inch-thick concrete slab. The compressive strength of the concrete was more than sufficient for this structure of 8,600 pounds; what was unknown was how well the concrete subsurface had been prepared.
My worrying proved to be unnecessary; but it wasn’t unfounded.
Earthquakes are still a concern in Hillsdale Co., MI, especially with all the fracking going on here, but I screwed a lot of wall ties into wall studs to stones. Tornadoes Scare Me, the song title of a musician friend. Yea, verily, what we build today could all be gone tomorrow.
The mantle and top piece of this fireplace are beams from an old barn, set in with their mortices showing. Mortices are chiseled openings into which the ends—the tenons—of other beams were received.
My worrying proved to be unnecessary; but it wasn’t unfounded.
Earthquakes are still a concern in Hillsdale Co., MI, especially with all the fracking going on here, but I screwed a lot of wall ties into wall studs to stones. Tornadoes Scare Me, the song title of a musician friend. Yea, verily, what we build today could all be gone tomorrow.
The mantle and top piece of this fireplace are beams from an old barn, set in with their mortices showing. Mortices are chiseled openings into which the ends—the tenons—of other beams were received.
This is my final—and current at this writing—job on a roof that’s not walkable. From a 10-foot scaffold I ascend to the porch roof, where a six-foot scaffold is precariously set, even though it’s tied off top to bottom with three ropes. I must walk like a cat on this thing to keep it from shaking.
From this scaffolding, up we go to the roof peak on a 12-foot ladder with ridge hooks, and to a homemade, heavyweight chimney scaffold dragged up in four parts. Eye lags are screwed to it for a staying rope around the other side of the chimney—the repair of which is almost finished, at long last.
At quitting time I’ve unplugged the electrical cord needed for grinding up top, and just once did I ascend these works to grind, only then to realize I hadn’t plugged the cord back in.
From this scaffolding, up we go to the roof peak on a 12-foot ladder with ridge hooks, and to a homemade, heavyweight chimney scaffold dragged up in four parts. Eye lags are screwed to it for a staying rope around the other side of the chimney—the repair of which is almost finished, at long last.
At quitting time I’ve unplugged the electrical cord needed for grinding up top, and just once did I ascend these works to grind, only then to realize I hadn’t plugged the cord back in.
Placed a second wooden scaffold on the other side of the chimney, after two hours of struggling. Made it of lightweight materials so it could be dragged up in one piece. I walk very gingerly on this thing, too, which was especially the case while grinding, when the platform had to be brushed of slippery mortar dust every few minutes. I wear a safety belt on this platform, attached to a six-foot lanyard hooked to a lightning rod cable, and it’s been sturdy enough for a day of work so far, but I’ll be glad for the moment I can toss this contraption into my little brickyard to rot.
Enough for the 62-year-old me of this sort of thing.
Enough for the 62-year-old me of this sort of thing.
Built this fieldstone sign structure for the Mitchell Research Center in Hillsdale. I'm here placing the granite, etched by James Littley of Jarsa & Co., Hillsdale.
Uncut stone is mostly fun to work with, I think. Stone cutting is necessary now and then, but I try to avoid it. For one who talks in friendly tones to rocks on occasion, striking them with hammers and chisels seems a "harmful" endeavor. I also much prefer the look of uncut wall stone.
Getting the central limestone slab on this structure without help was a touchy bit of business. It was inched up scaffold planks one side at a time, and rolled into position on wooden dowels before any mudding.
Getting the central limestone slab on this structure without help was a touchy bit of business. It was inched up scaffold planks one side at a time, and rolled into position on wooden dowels before any mudding.
The fireplace is a Rumford, invented 200 years ago by a count of that name. The inner hearth is only a foot deep for the maximum casting of heat. Logs are burned teepee style, leaned against the firebrick.
My wife, Toni, gathered nearly all of these rocks, washed and sorted them. She could be 1,000 feet away from me outside, and I'd know just where she was by the sound of rocks being plunked into her metal wheelbarrow. The roof was installed before the chimney was built, so I had to lie on my back atop the work in progress and cut through with a Sawzall. This was not fun.
This side tabernacle door of brass was once a part of a Catholic church in Hamtramck, Michigan. The church was razed for a General Motors assembly plant.
Many antique bricks were set to the chimney back. The blue one was a reject for the new Veterans Administration building in Detroit. It wasn't the right shade of blue.
A pair of driveway-side pillars where none had been before. These are made of concrete block with a man-made stone veneer. I poured their caps in place and installed the customer's solar lamps. I have to wonder how man-made stone will weather the years. None of it is 100-150 years old ... yet.
I’ll make “mortar faces” now and then, sometimes with excess work mud. How this one turned out to be a very good likeness of friend Jeremiah, I don’t know.
Jeremiah was one of eight “special needs” children adopted by Kurt and Francis Irwin (may they rest in peace), in Detroit. He has severe Attention Deficit Disorder and is a lumbering, kind of scary-looking character, who when walking down the street might scare approaching pedestrians to the other side. He is as harmless as could be, and it was he who spotted my ad and had me called for extensive work on the family’s stone house.
Jeremiah was one of eight “special needs” children adopted by Kurt and Francis Irwin (may they rest in peace), in Detroit. He has severe Attention Deficit Disorder and is a lumbering, kind of scary-looking character, who when walking down the street might scare approaching pedestrians to the other side. He is as harmless as could be, and it was he who spotted my ad and had me called for extensive work on the family’s stone house.
I once hired Jeremiah for a job just down the street from where he lived. When I lowered down various tools in a bucket from atop a scaffold, with the instruction to quickly empty the bucket so I could pull it back up, he’d remove the contents very slowly, one thing at a time; I recall him intensively examining a small trowel, sniffing it and licking some mud off of it. It was all I could do to lie down and enjoy the show.
Jeremiah inadvertently made all the more work for me one day, after getting ahold of the keys to the family’s 16-passenger van, and starting it up to go “look for a job.” He put the van into reverse gear when he wished to go forward, stomped the accelerator and took out a corner of the stone garage.
Jeremiah inadvertently made all the more work for me one day, after getting ahold of the keys to the family’s 16-passenger van, and starting it up to go “look for a job.” He put the van into reverse gear when he wished to go forward, stomped the accelerator and took out a corner of the stone garage.