Down below
Every now and then I'd think about the mantel down there. Like every time, I heard the muted growling noises of my husband wafting up through the floorboards, as he moved the hefty chunk of wood out of his way again and again.
It's absence in the living room didn't bother me too much. Living in an old house, it's amazing what you can get used to.
"When you go down the basement step, watch your head because there's a low ceiling," I'd yell to visitors who were touring the house and descending to the lowest level.
"And watch the 3rd and 8th step because they're a little shaky," I'd add, when I suspected they were getting close.
"And don't grab the handrail, because that's not really a handrail, it's just a 2x4 leaning up against the wall," I'd shout, trying to envision what other hidden hazards lay on those steps.
"And the basement floor might be wet, because we did two loads of laundry this week and there could be some overflow from the floor drain."
A missing mantel in the living room, was easy to mentally block out.
One day, my husband emerged from the basement and asked point blank, "talk to me about the mantel."
Translated, "I've danced around the basement with that blank-blank mantel long enough. Get it done and get it out of my basement."
Picking up the yellow pages, I called some local furniture refinishers and asked if anyone knew of a place I could get a mantel stripped. I remembered reading that there are places that can dip and strip moldings and furnishings and at this point, I was willing to pay someone to take this burdensome task off my back.
One man said he'd do it, but it'd cost $500. He told me he'd just do more of what I was doing - use paint stripper and heat guns to take the paint off.
Disappointed, I hung up the phone and resolved to get this job finished.
To the back yard
That next weekend, my husband and I hauled the mantel (which weighed about 80 pounds) out to the yard where I could work on it with vigor and gusto and not worry about setting fire to one of our three cats. (yes, those whiskers do grow back, even if they're singed)
The solid old mantel straddled a pair of sawhorses nicely and there I was able to use a heat gun at working height to finish the stripping work.
Using a heat gun outside was far superior to using a heat gun inside.
For one thing, the fumes were not an issue outside.
And stripping, whether using chemicals or heat is a mess. (It's also easier to stomp out those occasional fires, caused by a falling red-hot paint chip, on the cool dirt, than it is to stomp it out on light blue nylon carpet)
Burning the big open surfaces went well, but getting the paint out of the intricate places was maddeningly time consuming. Using dental picks, jewelers screwdrivers and steak knives, the paint did come out, bit by bit.
After I had burned all the paint off, I applied a heavy coat of water-based paint stripper (Citrus-strip) and allowed the stripper to sit for several minutes. For the little bit of mess that was left behind, that was adequate.
I tried using steel wool to wipe up the excess residue left by the stripper and the congealed paint mess, but found that to be very frustrating.
Purists: Don't read this!
After doing a little experimentation, I settled on an unconventional method that may offend old house purists.
If you're one of those, stop reading now.
I mean it.
Stop it.
Okay, now I'll tell you my non-purists, "I don't want to spend the rest of my life scraping this blank-blank fireplace mantel" paint stripper secret.
Okay, you can start reading again!
Once the stripper had done it's dirty work, I took some play sand (softer grit than masonry sand) and a scrub brush and a wee bit of water and scrubbed the wood surface. This picked up the goo and gunk in short order. The scrub brush needed frequent rinsing (all that goo and gunk) but this also had the desired effect of smoothing out the wood and preparing it for stain and varnish.
After scrubbing, I wiped the wood down with a sponge and then blotted it dry with paper towels. Once dry, there was usually some more picking to do in the corners and tight spots.
When completely dry, I sanded it down with 150 and 220 grit paper.
Next, I applied the stain.
On a back corner of the mantel I'd found a spot where the original varnished finish had never been painted over. The wood was very dark, but the oak veining was distinct and obvious. Very lovely. I wanted to emulate that original "this is what it would have looked like if it had never been painted" look.
The stain I chose was cherry.
Ghastly orange
Bad choice.
The old oak mantel was already so dark, I thought the red stain in the cherry would bring out the patina and highlight those veins and look just right.
When the stain had dried, that huge old mantel looked like a square pumpkin.
It was a ghastly shade of orange.
I was crestfallen.
I was quite certain I had ruined the mantel and would now be forced to build a fish pond in my living room and build a large stone waterfall in the corner where the mantel had been. It seemed like the only way to solve that "massive gaping hole in the corner of your living room" decorating conundrum. I had seen a 100 year old house in another city where someone had done just that - they had a waterfall in the corner of their living room with a fish pond in the living room floor.
Now I knew.
They had probably started out like me - just wanting to refinish their fireplace mantel.
Next, I applied "dark walnut" stain - the darkest stain I could find. This time, I applied the stain to the back of the mantel, something I should have done with the cherry. The dark walnut, over top of the cherry, produced a beautiful result. The veining was distinct and striking. The patina was beautiful. And the new test finish matched the old varnish finish I'd found on the corner.
We had a winner.
Finishing touches
I applied one coat of dark walnut over the entire surface of the square pumpkin.After allowing it to dry for 24 hours, I applied a coat of varnish over the entire fireplace. I allowed another 24 hours to dry and then used steel wool (fine #0000) to smooth out the varnish between coats.
This was a surprisingly important step. After applying the second coat of varnish, the wood was now as smooth as glass.
I was dazzled by the finished look and oh so pleased.
Once the second coat was dry, we re-installed the old mantel.
It was deeply satisfying to see the end result of such a laborious task.
Our home is a simple one, a 1904 Builder's Style home. I call it the "average Joe's" home. The fireplace is one of the finer points of this modest house and now it is the focal point of the living room.
If I had it to do over again, I would have done the stripping work outside.
Which is what we did do, when we pulled down the pocket doors between our living room and dining room and stripped them down to bare wood.
After all, do you know when we bought this house those beautiful pocket doors were covered in beige paint?
Beige!!
