A Barrel of Fun

We have some wonderful old farm houses and barns in Newtown, from Colonial times and also from the late 19th and early 20th centuries when this area was a patchwork of “gentlemen farms” that were visited on the weekends by men and their dogs and horses, meeting for breakfast and then going on day-long fox hunts that rambled through the countryside. 

This was a very rural area before World War II, not the suburbs but the country.  Different rules applied.  A pack of hunters with their dogs were free to cross through fallow fields in pursuit of their quarry. Just replace the fences when you enter and leave. 

On one such farm, remnants of those days still linger. A local owner called the about two large barrels in a barn on his property–one of which he wanted to part with.  We stopped by to see the barrel and get an idea of what he was talking about. 

There were two huge barrels on the second floor of a livestock barn, each one about 5-feet-tall and 7-feet across.  Think extra large hot tub for a basketball team.  Long disconnected piping disappeared into the floor.  The barrels were likely reservoirs to hold water either for the livestock living in the barn, or perhaps for a boiler that heated the barn.  Yes, they were heating these barns in the 1890s!  But also on that second floor were living quarters for coachmen and other help who would tend to the farm during the week, and provide services on the weekends as well. 

Due to impending renovations in the space, one barrel had to go.  Did we want it?  We get asked these questions from time to time.  We can't keep everything, but this was such an unusual piece, that we wanted to preserve it until we came up with a wonderful idea for how to put it back into some productive use.  But it was huge.  How to move it?  Where to store it?  I passed the question out to the Historical Society members and we have develoepd a few preliminary ideas.  But in the meantime, the barrel had to be dealt with. 

Last weekend, I called a friend, an antique dealer, who is handy with tools and old items.  Did he want to help me figure out how to move this thing?  "Love to–see you there," was his response. We both brought a collection of tools we thought we might need for the task –the basic toolbox, pry bars, gloves, WD-40, a huge pipe wrench and very old clothes. This was going to be a dirty job.  The owner met us there–let us in to figure out how to attack this project, and when he saw how much fun we were having, he joined us. 

The barrel was too large to pick up and move; and even if we could, we were on the second floor. How do we get it down to the ground level, and then what?  We decided instead to disassemble it.  We numbered each individual stave in the barrel–over 60 of them.  Then pried off the top metal ring around the barrel.  We pulled at the first stave, like a loose tooth, and wiggled it until we could free it from its neighbor.  In doing so, we found that it was notched at the bottom, which unlocked the secret to freeing the rest of the staves up. 

One by one we pulled them out and stacked them. When we were done, we had three large metal rings sitting on the ground.  They were moved off to the staging area as well. 

The barrel had a bottom–which was now still on the floor.  The bottom consisted of planks that were individually pieced together.  They were joined with pegs–like the insert of a dining room table.  Each one was hand carved.  Rather than completely disassembling the floor, we took it apart in large pieces that could be reassembled in the same arrangement with the same pegs facing the same way. 

The bottom had sat on three pieces of lumber that raised it off the ground, enough so the notch in the bottom of the staves fit into the floor and held it in place. 

It was interesting to look at this technology that has largely become a lost art.  Each stave had been cut at a precise angle to fit with two of its neighbors.  The whole collection was then bound with four metal bands.  No sealant was used to keep the water in–you could see small cracks between the staves.  But when the barrel was filled with water, after some initial leakage, the water pressure forced the staves out into the rings, the wood filled with water and expanded, and the leakage stopped.  The well constructed barrel held the water until it was needed. 

We have had a person who still makes barrels in the "old-style" way with the old tools–a cooper–at our Historic Newtown Square days in years past.  We called him about consulting with us on reassembling the barrel.  When I sent him photos and described it, he said, “What you have is not a barrel–it’s a vat.  Barrels have lids.”  But he said he would be glad to help us out when we have a project worthy of this wonderful old…vat.  For now, it is safely stored in pieces. 

The project took about two hours; and by the end we were covered with the dirt from 100 years.  But it was like a time capsule to walk in to the paddock to that barn and imagine it filled with fox hunters and their dogs from the Radnor Hunt getting ready for a day afield.  Then to admire the handiwork of the barrel, and the elegant simplicity of the design.  And finally, to successfully take it apart, piece by piece, carefully numbered, without doing any damage to it. 

Now comes the hard part–finding a great new use for it.  If you have ideas, e mail me at doughumes@psualum.com. We have some of our own, but when you open a question like this up to a creative community, you never know what you will find.