Bucks
Bob Kling, Mayor of Carversville
Dear Friends,
Good morning. There’s no such thing as the Mayor of Carversville. Carversville is a charming village on the border of Solebury and Plumstead Townships. But if Carversville were an incorporated municipality, Bob Kling would be its Mayor. At least that’s what Mighty Betsy says…and she’s always right.
For decades, Bob Kling has restored antique furniture for our family. He learned his artisan trade from his father and mother. We spent a Saturday morning with him to learn more.
Kling’s father, Sylvanus B. Kling, opened the Carversville Cabinet Shop in 1947. His great grandparents owned the Carversville Inn across the street, where his father was born. The cabinet shop occupies the second floor of the Carversville General Store and Post Office, which Bob Kling owns.
“In 1920, the building was the livery stable for the Inn,” he began. “Later it became a dance hall. The band played on a small stage at the back of the second floor.” That’s where patrons find his crowded workspace today. It’s not fancy but you can tell that his shop is very busy.
A copy of an 1850’s Philadelphia Chippendale chair sat on his workbench. He’d repaired its back, refinished the wood, and transformed it into a handsome piece.
Kling is obviously gifted. “You’re an artist,” MB told him as she wandered through his wife’s antique shop, adjacent to his workspace. Bob wanted to go to art school but his father died when he was in the 12th grade at the New Hope/ Solebury high school. His father was only 42, so he had to support his mother and two younger siblings.
Bob Kling never left Carversville. “It’s a great town to grow up in…and work in,” he continued. “I’ve met wonderful people. And I can watch the seasons come and go from the back window [of his shop].”
Bob is musical. His radio is always tuned to the Temple University classical music [also jazz] station. Saturday is opera day with the Metropolitan Opera Company. It reminds him that the Carversville United Church of Christ choir needs his voice in the tenor section on the following Sunday.
Kling call himself an antiques restorer. “I use my own method to restore furniture,” he told me. “I want it to look like the aged finish that looks well cared for. I try to keep the old finish as long as possible. In my father’s day, you’d take the paint or finish down to the bare wood and start over.
“My philosophy is to work on whatever my clients bring me,” Kling said. “I like fine antiques but I do reproductions too…anything to keep another tree from being cut down to make more inferior furniture.”
He works on five or six pieces simultaneously. “If I get tired of gluing, I can turn to refinishing,” Kling added. “I get wonderful variety that way…it’s very satisfying. If you do things with patience and care, you can improve. I try to make something beautiful again.”
He has his great grandmother’s gold thimble, a present which the Philadelphia Electric workman gave her for the lunches she provided when Carversville received electric power in the 1920’s.
“When I was a kid, my mother taught me how to refinish furniture,” Kling said. “And I still have my father’s 1947 table saw...it works. I use hand tools, carving chisels and planes. All of the tools belonged to my father,” he said. “It takes the same amount of time to fix a $10 chair as it does an expensive one.”
How far do you take the restoration process, I wondered? When do you stop? “Before you compromise the piece,” Kling replied, “before you over restore.” And therein lies the genius of the artisan.
It’s fun to watch him work…or have
a conversation. By the way, the Cabinet Shop’s number is
The Mayor of Carversville is 61 and is thinking about retirement some day. “No one in my family is following me,” he said. “Still, I’ve never been busier, even if I’m at the end of my career.”
“It will be the end of an era,” MB quipped.
“The work just keeps coming in,” Bob Kling answered.
The Carversville Cabinet Shop is a treasure trove. How does Bob Kling like the title that I assigned him? “The Mayor of Carversville,” he laughed. “That’s a dubious honor.”
Sincerely,
Charles Meredith