THE ARCHIVE ADVANTAGE

Stanley made some goofy-looking planes. But this one takes the cake. The elusive No. 196 curved rabbet plane. What it does isn’t that complicated—it cuts rabbets on curves. Given that, we are left to wonder why the thing looks complicated beyond human comprehension and vaguely like a medieval torture device.

All that judgment based on appearance aside, these are pretty high up there in the list of hard-to-find, weird Stanley planes. A must for any collector of oddities—or anyone looking to cut a rabbet on a curve. No one we’re aware of makes an analog to this plane today. A uniquely useful, odd-duck of a highly collectible niche plane.

Kidding aside, this one’s in excellent condition with nickel plating north of 70% by eye and the Sweetheart mark on the cap screw. Proper cutters. Excellent example.

From the collection of Harold Unruh.

Ships to you exceedingly well-packed, and insured just in case.

The No. 9, a plane by many names. Pick your favorite. Or make up your own. He’ll answer to just about any name if you give him treats. While we’re on the nonsense train, can we just comment that the No. 9 must have been adopted because it looks nothing like 1-8. Or a total genetic shake-up produced No. 9. Anyway, back to the plane.

This is a gorgeous, early (ca. 1869-1908) “type 2," adjustable mouth, fully functional No. 9. It has the brass depth adjustment knob with Bailey and patent dates stamped on the inside, mainly made from the 1870s to early 1890s. J-iron logo on cutter, consistent with the rest. Excellent condition with a beautiful patina and great rosewood.

Now, to the part where we’re supposed to “apologize” for the plane’s imperfections, right? Nope. Not here. These are not apologies; they are the scars worn like badges of honor for the stories they tell about the plane’s life. Wow, we got a little sappy there. But we’re okay with vulnerability. So, the scars:

• There’s a small spot that has what we think is a casting anomaly that looks similar to a crack. Left cheek, toward the front. Photo 13.

• There’s a part of the adjustable mouth on each side that is a tiny square of iron jutting out to close up the casting on the outside edges of the mouth when the mouth is adjusted fully tight. In other words, a tiny piece waiting to get broken off, and it looks like the one on the right cheek has been reattached. Photo 15.

• Part of that washer on the top front of the plane was sheared off in a fight with six Samurai warriors. That sliver is all they got. Many photos.

• The front corners are rounded off a bit. The castings on early ones like this had slightly rounded corners, and it wasn’t uncommon for users to ease the corners a bit more—easier on the hands. Some might deduct points for that, but we don’t think it’s a defect when a tool shows how it was used.

So, it’s not “perfect” in the sense of a spotless and shiny collector plane that lived in a bubble isolated from the world, lonely and dreaming of planing wood, but never even seeing a board. Sad, and expensive, valued up to $3,000 in the John Walter book. The one in this listing, by contrast, is perfect in its own unique way that gives clues about its life. A life out in the world, not stuck in a bubble. That kind of perfection isn’t valued quite so much by the people who make the rules, so it’s not $3,000.

From the collection of Harold Unruh.

Ships to you exceedingly well packed and insured.

Lightly used, all original, crazy-pristine later No. 4 with its original box showing a price of $11 and change. While we wish we could offer it at that price, doing so would be what our business coach calls a "FID"—failure-inducing decision. We can’t afford anymore FIDs at this point, so we’ll have to stick with current market pricing. Worht every penny, though. This plane’s like new.

Bonus: we put a new 25-degree hollow-ground primary bevel and 30-degree extra-fine waterstone-honed secondary bevel on the iron, so it’s sharp and ready.

Ships to you exceedingly well-packed and insured, just in case.

We usually don’t like talking about how rare a tool is, but sometimes we have to make an exception. This 90A is one of those times.

The 90A is a unicorn in the Stanley plane world. One of the rarest planes Stanley every made. Who knows for sure, but it seems there are maybe a couple dozen of these left in the world.

This one is in excellent condition with about 85% nickel plating and all the right parts and markings. 90A engraved on the depth adjuster knob and on the original iron. As with most super rare planes, there are a couple issues, though we look at them as scars of use that reflect the reality that nothing’s perfect and this tool was used—as it was supposed to be. First, there are two hairline through-cracks on the narrow front right vertical part of the body that has not been stabilized or tampered with. Second, a prior owner, one “Reger” also signed it on the right side. See photos.

If you want the Stanley rarities in your collection, this is a grab-it-when-you-can tool. And we don’t say that often.

From the collection of Harold Unruh.

Ships to you packed ultra-protected and insured just in case.

This has to be a 9.9/10, and it’s only short that .1 because we have an intense fear of being stuck with no more room to move if we commit to a 10. Our neuroses aside, this 607 is just awesome in every respect. And with the cherry on top that it’s a Sweetheart with an appropriate cutter logo/trademark and largely intact tote decal. Finishes not messed with. Just awesome.

Ships to you exceedingly well-packed, but insured just in case.

Super spiffy, sleek, sophisticated, clean, confident—premium Bed Rock 603. If there were a Prom King for hand planes, we feel like this is what he’d look like. A polished, put-together, all-star. Weird analogy, right? Yet it oddly makes sense in our heads.

Ships to you exceedingly well-packed and insured, just in case.