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TRADITIONAL TRADES
Wrought with History
Blacksmith Gerald Boggs masters the intricate skills of ironwork.
Text by Stephen T. Spewock | Photos by Erik Johnson
Above Metalsmith Gerald Boggs, shown at his forge, creates hand-wrought ironwork for residential design such as historically inspired hinges, latches, fire screens, and lanterns (top).
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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once “found nothing mysterious about the worker in iron.” His own brawny blacksmith “embodied every simple virtue: he owed money to no man, prayed in the Church on Sundays, and earned an honest living by the sweat of his honest brow.” What was once considered the most indispensable trade in pre– Industrial Revolution America is being carried out today by Gerald Boggs at his blacksmith shop, Wayfarer Forge, in Virginia.
Growing up in Oregon, Boggs exhibited no inherent desire for anything to do with arts and crafts, nor did he receive any real impetus from his family. Yearning for distant horizons, he entered the army, which exposed him to the world’s varied cultures. It was on the end of his 20 years of military service returning stateside that Gerald stumbled into a wrought-iron forge, where he remembers being completely enthralled with the steel work. “I was so fascinated with the idea of working with my hands that I asked the owner if he would be willing to accept me as an apprentice on the weekends so I could learn the craft,” Boggs says. “When I told him that he wouldn’t have to pay me, the owner smiled and said, ‘Why not?’”
For the next five years, Gerald apprenticed with the forge’s owner, learning the intricacies of taking raw bars of steel from the foundry and turning them into architectural ironwork, such as door hardware, lanterns, and fireplace accessories, for residential period homes. “I was fortunate to be in an area rich in stone and beam houses, requiring period-accurate, hand-forged ironwork. Creating usable items out of raw materials with my hands became something I really enjoyed.” He adds, “I even got paid to do it, eventually.”
After securing a tidy retirement from the army, as well as his blacksmith’s apprenticeship, Gerald opted for the proverbial midlife time-out, landing as a galley cook on large sailing vessels. Starting in the Great Lakes, he traveled out through the St. Lawrence into the Atlantic, then on to the Bahamas and West Indies. The thirst for high-sea adventure soon waned, and the longing for a stationary communal lifestyle drew him back to the small mountain town
of Afton, Virginia, in the upper Shenandoah Valley. Despite its steep and rocky terrain, the first settlers elected taking this three-day route to the
West as opposed to the more circuitous three-week path through the lower Shenandoah Valley. Less time meant the need for fewer supplies, but was often offset with a loss of a wagon wheel or dislodged horseshoes. It wasn’t too long before the first blacksmiths set up shop in the area to accommodate settlers’ misfortunes while crossing the Gap.
Today, Boggs carries on those traditions. “Despite the inherent difficulties, forging is my greatest love—being around it when the heat’s up and the metal is being worked gives me a tremendous sense of purpose.” To help streamline the process, he is currently constructing a larger shop required to house his workbench: a 625-pound anvil that he purchased on eBay! “Normally a larger sized anvil sits at around 300 pounds. I believe it’s the largest anvil still being used in America,” he says, while dryly adding, “The owner adamantly mentioned the winning bidder was responsible for shipping.”
The craft does come with its own perils, which continue to plague even modern day blacksmiths. “I’ve seen lots of ‘dancing’ from blacksmiths who accidentally smashed either fingers or hands while working with heavy pieces,” Boggs says. Long-term exposure to clanging metal has caused deafness, while working in low light—required to assess the color of the heated iron’s glow, which directly correlates to temperature of the metal and thus it’s workability—has resulted in long-term loss of eyesight. “It is a nonverbal, tactile trade, with real-life trade-offs. It is in persevering through these dangers that contributes to a fulfilling experience,” says Boggs. “There’s just something hypnotic about the rhythmic hammering motion, and just like sailing, the need to focus your entire mental orientation in the moment—having to think for yourself while remaining constantly alert to your immediate surroundings and environment—provides for tremendous satisfaction.”
The market for hand-forged wrought iron has grown in recent years and consists of a discerning clientele. “The only problem occurs when trying to convince a client that a particular idea is not doable because the metal will not allow for it,” says Boggs. But even with all the period work available, there are only so many houses requiring so many period latches and door handles. When the commission work lags, Gerald turns to other means to support himself. “I’ve subbed out my time to other smiths in other forges. I’ve also swung a carpenter’s hammer, which gives me an appreciation for creation from a builder’s eye.”
Historically Speaking
The earliest historical reference of “smything” was the “Worshipful Company of Blacksmiths of London,” circa 1346 a. d. Today it is the Blacksmith Company of London—the oldest existing guild with original charter still in place. Two basic categories of forging have evolved, the first being traditional, or “hand” forging, meaning no power tools were utilized in the manufacturing process. The second is contemporary forging, meaning power tools were utilized in the manufacturing process. Traditional forging is what Gerald likes most, constituting roughly 75 percent of his work.
One might assume that influence for style comes from hours of apprenticing with a master craftsman, but for Boggs, most influence for his designs comes mainly through research. His favorite designs come from Sweden’s medieval period. “Each individual element is simply made, yet the final product is very complex in its assembly.” What is most intriguing about their work are the hidden details that they put into their work—details not noticed for years.
Wrought Ironwork
Working hot iron is straightforward, with only seven terms used to describe each aspect of manipulating its near molten form: drawing down, upsetting, bending, welding, punching, hot cutting, fire welding, and riveting. Combinations of these techniques are how more intricate designs are created. Boggs assembled a set of garden gates with heel tenon joints, a process whereby vertical and horizontal pieces interface through mortises worked into the ends of individual rails, stiles, or balusters of iron. Again, Boggs required precision while working on another difficult piece: a two-story forged staircase with a bronze cap rail with one of three sections measuring 30 feet in length. Because it was assembled on-site, all three sections had to fit perfectly.
Forging Ahead
Boggs plans on honing his smithing skills, and once he feels accomplished, he’d like to pass on the craft by teaching. “I’d like to become good enough to take on an apprentice; to uphold the tradition of preparing someone for the right of passage from apprenticeship to journeyman to master.” Boggs would also like to introduce more subtle details and intricate joints into his ironwork. Similarly, as with the iron masters of medieval Sweden, he would like to work in small surprises that are hidden at first but become apparent after you live with a piece. For now, his work comes with a stamp of “WF,” which simply stands for Wayfarer Forge. Yet, just like the foresight and preparation required of a world-traveled soldier or high-seas sailor, he is overseeing the design of a new logo: a traveling blacksmith carrying an anvil on his shoulder. Not such a hard task for the purist at heart, even if that anvil does weigh over 600 pounds.
Stephen T. Spewock is a freelance writer living in Boston, Massachusetts.
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