When I was in high school, my family visited a small museum in the quaint little Ohio town of Dover. It was the home of “The Master Carver.” Until then, I had never heard of the man who had become world famous for his carvings of locomotives. He used primarily walnut, ebony, and ivory to create the most accurate, lifelike replicas of some of America’s early trains. The details were incredible, down to the miniature nuts and bolts with threads! His precision was unparalleled. Some of his carvings are now in the Smithsonian Institute. (They can be easily found online. I encourage you to look them up!)
I had started woodcarving as a small boy and remember being overwhelmed as I gazed at his work. I knew I could never achieve such perfection. Nevertheless, I pushed on, developing my own technique with the crude, flat, and dull chisels we had at the time.
My interest in carving has continued over the years, though my talent will never be what Ernest Warther’s was. Thanks to the internet, I have found and read numerous articles on woodcarving techniques. Recently, as I remembered the Master, I looked up a few articles on his work. As I was reading one of the articles, I zoomed in on a picture of his face. It was hauntingly familiar. The article explained how he often carved miniature pliers for children. They were his signature. He even carved a pair for Johnny Carson on the Tonight’s Show. My eyes began to leak as I read. It was then that I realized I had met the Master.
I was about nine years old. We were having a potluck dinner after church, as we often did. Our church was a small, inner city, multi-ethnic gathering. Frequently we had guests for special events. I have no recollection why these guests were there that particular Sunday, but I ended up sitting next to a white-haired elderly man who didn’t say much during the meal. Then, right after desert, he turned to me and said, “I want to show you something.” He pulled a piece of wood and a pocketknife from his blazer pocket and began to carve.
I was in awe when he handed me a working pair of miniature pliers carved from that small piece of wood. Moving, interlocking parts from a single piece of wood! I am amazed, even as an adult. Imagine the wonder I felt as a child. I can see his face so clearly: it was Ernest Warther.
After he was gone, I went to my bedroom to fetch my pocketknife, scurried out to the garage to look for a small piece of wood, and began carving my own version of working pliers. They are a poor imitation, though not bad for a nine year-old. It took the Master less than a minute to carve his. It took me hours to carve mine.
While visiting his museum years later, I did not realize who the Master was. Now, I feel like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, who begged Jesus to stop and eat with them. Even though they sat at the dinner table next to him, they did not realize with whom they spoke . . . until the Master carved the bread.
My love of woodcarving was a gift from the Master.
– Sam Augsburger
