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How does Harbison, in his North Bend, Oregon, shop, work such unwooden qualities into the myrtle and Port Orford cedar he uses? So unlike the stiff knickknacks too often found in gift departments and shops, each has individuality. It may be that he has studied animal anatomy so thoroughly that he can with equanimity depart from true animal structure, and so turn out creatures that are not mere photographic likenesses, but picture animal spirit. The donkey, for instance, is not in exact proportions; it exaggerates some features and minimizes others. It is a donkey with sympathy and appeal.

Or it may be that Harbison designs with a memory of that day when he was nine, determinedly carving with primitive tools his first miniature animals. There is a youthful imagination evident in the carvings, giving them mobility, cleanness of line, and freedom from cluttery detail.

This donkey is but one of an extensive menagerie. Dog lovers will find all breeds in the Harbison kennels: cockers, chows, dachshunds, collies, spaniels, Scotties, and Boston bulldogs. Elephants are of different sizes, some with trunk elevated to show tusks, others with trunk lowered. One of these retails for $2.25 in shops that carry the carvings. Giraffes, too, are of assorted sizes, the largest bringing $3.25. They have orange, black-bordered spots. The beaver looks alive, with its strong white teeth and red tongue showing. The lambs have an appealing, innocent air, the cats a pert, wide-awake look. Frogs, bears, and beaver are of cedar, while fish, camels, ducks, pigs and kangaroos, complete with pouch and baby kangaroo, are carved from myrtle.

There is an animal for every nature lover, no matter what his preference. And there are puckish ones that appeal to children, as well as those carved with more serious purpose, like the cedar bears around an irregular lamp base. All have an indescribable something that makes a signature on a Harbison carving unnecessary.

MRS. HARBISON is her husband's best press agent; she likes his carvings, and was the first to see their possibilities. She collects some of his more striking animals, and displays them here and there in their home. She is the salesman of the concern. Harbison says of her, "She was born with her feet under the counter."

He might, in fact, credit his profitable hobby to the encouragement given by the women in his life. His mother kept for him the collection of soldiers of various nations, swords, and guns he carved when he was nine, his son Bobby's age. These he painstakingly tried to give motion and character, succeeding remarkably well in some of them. All are of miniature size. The soldiers occupied most of his time; for some reason he does not recall, he gave them all hats. The masterpiece of these is the cavalryman on horseback. His pride, however, was a tiny horse of brass. His only tools for its fashioning were a hacksaw and files. In the same way he also made a revolver of brass. Jiggs of the comic strip is of wood, a most creditable likeness, albeit somewhat thin.

At the time he made these miniatures, one of his sisters devoted much of her time to art. Young Bob helped himself to her oil paints to finish his carvings. He used surprising restraint in his choice of colors; the figures are not gaudy.

Along with this box full of youthful carvings, he keeps two bugs which he much later carved for his son, Bob III, who is a bug collector. These, complete with realistic feelers, are made to sit on their hind quarters.

IT WAS to amuse his daughter Anne that he turned again to the hobby he had put aside many years before. That was twenty years ago, during the depression, when toys for Anne and entertainment for himself and Mrs. Harbison did not enter into the family budget. He furnished both by carving an elephant. Mrs. Harbison has preserved this toy. It is small and light in weight, rather squat, and with tusks that resemble ivory. He whittled it from the end of a pine box, as the material at hand, and painted it a flat black, with white eyes and hoofs.

The elephants he makes today are not so different from this original design, but they are more lifelike, because of changes in posture and proportion. Some are of Port Orford cedar. Somewhat thick, as elephants should be, they use more wood than they appear to, because of their turn from a straight plane. Tusks in these also seem to be ivory, but are cut from white plastic knitting needles, heated so they can be curved.

Other toy animals for little Anne followed the elephant. Mrs. Harbison encouraged him to make more and yet more. If he wondered that the more he made, the fewer Anne played with, he did not comment. His wife hoarded his carvings until she had a goodly number, then exhibited them in her brother's florist shop, where she clerked. Her idea was to attract customers to buy flowers, but luckily for her future, her plan did not work according to expectations. Customers, instead of buying flowers, demanded the animals. Unwittingly, Harbison had carved himself a vocation that has proved satisfactory through the years.

He did not immediately make a business of the carvings, but began to form plans and to lay in a supply of tools he would need. Most of the tools he now uses he bought prior to the war. He opened his woodworking shop at the back of their home, then at the edge of Coquille, Oregon, in 1939, and turned myrtle bowls and carved animals until 1942, when he was in the shipyards.

HARBISON WAS born in Hood River, a descendant of one of the earliest families. Although he began so early to take an interest in carving, his knack with it did not enter into his plans for a vocation. He studied architecture, which was to be his life work, he thought. He does not see it as wasted study even though he does not design buildings. Free hand drawing, sketching, study of perspective—all of these are helpful in designing his patterns.

One of the required courses he took at the University of Oregon was sculpture. His instructor was an exacting taskmaster who had a great deal to offer the class; Harbison feels that this training carried over nicely into his designs.

After his graduation, he designed the municipal building of Coquille. No other commission came his way, however; architects were not in demand during the depression. He supported his family by carving statues for schools, under the auspices of the WPA, until Mrs. Harbison displayed his other carvings so effectively.

His choice of woods is a natural one, since these rare trees are indigenous to his home. Oregon myrtle, also called California laurel and bay tree, is found in this country only on the coast in southern Oregon and northern California, preferring the soft damp air of the sea. Sometimes it forms a tree sixty to eighty feet high, with dense, lacy foliage that gives out a spicy odor. Logs, soaked in water until partially decayed outside, take on an interior grain that is beautifully colored. The wood has a wide range of hues, from blond to deep brown. The light myrtle is not as popular as the dark, Harbison explains, since as it ages it has a tendency to yellow, while the darker tones become mellower and richer.

Port Orford cedar, like myrtle, is rare; practically all of the world's supply is situated in southwestern Oregon; it grows only in two counties there, and two in northwestern California. It differs greatly from myrtle in appearance: It is an even-textured wood which with the years takes on the patina of old gold. Harbison finds it a fitting medium for some of his larger animals such as the Harbison colt, one of the carvings that has brought him the most satisfaction, and a large bear whose muscles ripple realistically.

IN MARCH of 1947, the Harbisons moved to their present site about a mile out of North Bend, Oregon. They see this as a strategic location, since from one direction it is the last myrtle-wood shop to be met by tourists, and from the other it is the first. Harbison did some remodeling to the building in which they live, and bulldozed the ground to fill in the spot on which he built the little shop.

He also built his workshop, a little way up an incline. Here he spends most of his time. When Mrs. Harbison is not in the store, he is warned of customers by the ringing of a buzzer. He then runs down to tend shop. It is a good plan, he believes, to separate store and workshop, so he will not too frequently be called upon to show his process of manufacturing. Not that he is unwilling to demonstrate his animal carving for those truly interested, but many ask only on the spur of the moment and waste his time to no particular advantage. Wood turnings, such as bowls, trays, and plates he does not show except in the finished articles. He has spent years in improving on processes, and keeps these as a trade secret.

The Harbisons own seven and one-half acres of land, having bought the point near the shop recently to assure that there will be no buildings at that spot to distract attention from them. North Bay and Coos Bay, its twin city separated by only 200 yards of no-man's land, are harbors for 13-mile-long Coos Bay, over which go the country's largest lumber shipments. So Harbison has no trouble finding his wood.

Fittingly, the shop has a door of myrtle wood. Harbison made this himself, and has been asked to duplicate it for customers. He does not like to undertake such big jobs.

When he began carving in real earnest, Harbison made some of his machines himself. One of these is a sander which he uses for a good bit of the cutting. It will go against the grain of the wood as a saw will not do satisfactorily.

Another machine he invented is a cutter, which he uses to shape ears and like parts. One of these machines he made four years ago, and the other six.

FOR CUTTING the outlines of the animal, first traced in multiple on the wood, he uses a jig saw. This also cuts apart the legs. But the work which gives his animals individuality is done in large part on the sander, which gouges out the ridges and grooves that make a departure from the usual rounded lines that are run-of-the-mill features in most myrtle-wood stuff. To watch him dig out on the machine is dizzy-making, so swift and sure is his touch.

That sureness is not come by easily. He is constantly studying the animals he reproduces and the wood with which he works. He has reams of pictures, books and pamphlets on animals. Friends and relatives know his preoccupation with the subject, and give him books, some of which have proved invaluable. "There is not much available material on animal anatomy," he says regretfully. "Horses present the biggest problem. Most people placing special orders seem interested in horses. It would be a simple matter, if they did not have in mind the type and breed they want, so that each order involves a fresh design. I have a request for Man o' War and another for Citation. In carving reproductions, I must consider introducing action."

Depending on the extent of an order, Harbison may devote half an hour or half, a day to one process, thereby cutting time to a minimum. For example, in making a miniature horse, he traces the outline of the pattern onto planed wood chosen for its graining and color, filling the surface of the board. Then the jig saw cuts the outlines. Myrtle wood is an extremely hard-grained wood, despite its lightness in weight, and the tools must be sharpened often in working with it. Next the horses go to a sander, which squares the bottoms, so the animals will stand. These horses are made of myrtle wood. If they were of cedar, he would take care that the wood would not split, since it is much softer.

The important parts of the carving to give the animals the Harbison touch are imparted by the sander he made. "I probably could have found one similar on the market," he says, "but this one works very well. When I use it on quantity orders, I tape my fingers, because the sanders just as easily take out chunks of skin as they do of wood."

WHEN THE sander has done its stuff, the horses are ready for paint. After experimenting, Harbison found that he got best results by painting the eyes, noses, hoofs, tails, stripes and spots with poster paint. It dries in a brief time. Then he gives an all-over coat of lacquer. For the larger pieces he uses a spray gun. The smaller ones, like these little horses, he sometimes dips in the lacquer.

After the lacquer dries, the pieces are polished as the finishing touch. This is necessary, Harbison explains, because the lacquer leaves places that need smoothing. As with the other processes, he is particular with this step, bringing out the laughing comment from his wife: "I can't even polish to suit Bob." She does not mind.

Harbison has filled an order for 2,000 horses, as an example of the quantity he is sometimes called on to supply. "Working on such an order can be monotonous," he confesses. "I can only stay with it for two or three hours at a stretch if I'm to turn out good stuff. I vary it with something else."

Harbison's woods have been placed in shops all over the country, and have also gone to other parts of the world. The King of Siam ordered, through a friend in this country, an alder figure. He liked it so well that he bought other pieces.

This perhaps explains Harbison's success in his hobby-business: His craftsmanship is so meticulous, with himself as his severest critic, that much of his trade is in repeat orders. He speaks regretfully of the poor work turned out by many myrtle-wood dealers during the war. Their supply of the wood was limited and the public bought anything in the line, no matter how poor. Much of it was made from poorly seasoned wood, and with inartistic lines, turned by workers who knew little about myrtle wood. The present trade suffers as an aftermath of this glutting the market with goods the shops cannot sell. When these do get rid of their stock, they are through with myrtle wood.

IT WOULD be nice to be able to say, Harbison feels, that his designs are made between jobs, when he has time to take pains with them. But that is seldom the case; often they are made under pressure, for an order to be filled immediately. The patterns are usually made of plywood, although he does occasionally start the design on cardboard. Nearly all are designed as the result of an order.

He keeps them in a cigar box. To the remark that these patterns would be a child's idea of a toy heaven, he laughs and answers that young Bobby will fall heir to them eventually.

In designing, Harbison considers the problem of turning with the equipment he has. Lines are vertical, to go with the grain of the wood. This is true of the cedar as well as the myrtle; graining is distinct in both.

Unlike many myrtle-wood carvers, he enjoys making up unusual special orders. These he usually plans to execute during the winter months, when work is more slack. Some of them are peculiar indeed.

There was the commission by a Mr. Legge to make a leg of myrtle wood. Another, to represent the Big Bad Wolf, was a group of lambs and a wolf. A third was a bear ordered by a sergeant. This bear, a cocky animal with hardboiled eyes, is made to look as though its arms were crossed in back. Harbison liked it, and makes it for general sale, but without the military cap worn by the original.

He also shows large cedar beavers in his shop windows. "There is a story back of them," he relates. "I was talking to a man from the Oregon State Game Commission. I asked him if there were any beavers in the vicinity and said I would like to see one. Shortly after, he came back to the shop, and unloaded a live beaver. He had a rope around the narrowest part of the tail, and held the animal in position to pose for me, while I sketched it. I was glad of the opportunity, but glad also that I hadn't asked about an elephant."

ONE SORT of special order Harbison turns down. That is the duplication of an article in the customer's possession, with only a description as a guide. Another is to match graining and color to wood the customer owns. "I might go to the bottom of a big pile of lumber without finding a suitable piece," he says. "Even along the same board the veining differs, so that matching presents a problem. To a large extent the grain and color of the wood decide its use."

He has on occasion, however, made matched pieces. An interesting example is a salad set of bowl and plates, the graining in the latter perfectly matched.

Harbison's salad sets, trays, and bowls with salad fork and spoon are popular. Customers readily see that their graceful lines and the satiny glow of perfectly treated myrtle are a vast improvement upon the squat forms too often placed on the market. Yet his prices are not high. A tray in the smaller size retails at $1.95.

An order on which he worked recently was cups and saucers for a display collection, and not intended for use. The cups are rounded, with handles added, the saucers are thin and flatter than the dish ordinarily shaped from wood.

Harbison was asked to make a myrtle cane, which turned out satisfactorily and resulted in several other sales. It is so constructed that the crook of the cane bears up exceptionally well under weight. He achieved this unusual strength by beveling two pieces of the wood for the crook, instead of bending one piece to shape. The joining is imperceptible. Besides being durable and dependable, it is a neat and attractive stick.

For his daughter Anne, Harbison made a music box with myrtle-wood case. He does not plan to make these for sale; they present too many mechanical problems outside his chosen field.

In making an easel to hold small pictures, he took pains to keep the frame delicate and unobtrusive, since the wood can call undue attention to itself. Myrtle wood may be said to be a dramatic wood. It does not hide its beauty, but parades it. This quality Harbison bears in mind and makes serve his need.

IN A window of Harbison's shop, a shelf displays several animals larger than the miniatures, made chiefly for show. A cedar beaver sells for $5.50, and a bear for the same. A horse sells for $7.50, and quite a large one of like make for $17.50. There is not much demand, he admits, for these larger pieces, both because of the prices, and because collectors want the smaller ones, which fit better with their other items.

Some of them were, however, selected by the West Coast Airlines for a display in their Portland offices. From that city they were taken to Seattle and other headquarters of the company, to illustrate points of interest along the route of their planes.

Harbison has made lamps and candlesticks, some with stylized forms; some of these, he believes, are successful, others fall short of his aim. "You need to show both the conventional and the symbolic," he explains. "I like to experiment with the latter. Sometimes I am taken aback when people see my modernistic animals and mistake them for something other than I had intended to represent."

He has himself designed an attractive sticker to be used in packaging the articles, and uses the myrtle-wood tree on his letterhead.

YOUNG BOB Harbison has his own lathe, so constructed that he cannot cut his hand along with the wood. He likes to work with it, but prefers to do so along with his father. It is less fun to work alone. He promises that when he grows up he will handle the lumberyard end of the deal, and take the supply problem off his father's shoulders.

Harbison has not, like some woodworkers, built his own yard. It is, he believes, a help to have one, but he must draw the line somewhere, and feels that it is more profitable to concentrate on the carving, buying his lumber. He is a regular customer of some dealers, who are familiar with his needs and permit him to select his wood, cutting it to his specifications, a thick slice here, a thin one there, from wood of coloring most useful to him. His miniatures, at any rate, do not use a great deal of lumber.

He keeps on hand six or seven thousand feet of lumber, and aims to buy at least a thousand feet of green wood a year. Myrtle wood is slow to season. At the end of a year, he can cut into the thinner wood, but the thicker pieces require three to four years' seasoning.