Devotees of mid century modern design have strong opinions. Many feel that mid century modern furniture (and architecture) is sacrosanct and should never be altered, for fear of losing authenticity and ruining the piece in question. If you belong to any MCM Facebook groups, you’ve perhaps seen shocking images of things like Broyhill Brasilia done up in chalk paint, distressed, and festooned with new pulls. The comments are full of horror, disgust, and derision for the people who made these “improvements,” and despair that a classic has been trashed.
They are absolutely correct in these reactions. Taking good design and robbing it of the features that made it resonate really sucks. I’m firmly in the No Painting camp, unless the piece is an absolute disaster. Don’t take beautiful wood grain and warm wood tones and slap a coat of teal paint on it, and don’t paint parts of a piece because you think it creates a cool two-tone effect. And if you do this, and you’re reselling it, don’t act like you’ve somehow increased the value.
With all that said, not every period piece of MCM furniture is a classic. Even pieces that check the right boxes can fall flat. For every highly sought-after piece of mid century furniture design, there are numerous others from department stores, smaller-market furniture companies, and some pieces which simply cannot be identified with a normal internet search. Lots of these lesser known pieces are hidden gems, and finding them can be very exciting. Others are poorly built, awkwardly designed, or both; just a business attempting to chase the fads.
I recently bought a mid century modern desk, which I had only seen in pictures because it was two hours away. There was no maker’s mark, and the seller had no other information, just that it was mid-mod, and a desk. I couldn’t find anything online in my research, and it didn’t appear to be anything notable. I had been in the market for a writing desk for a while, but I didn’t have much luck up to that point.
I decided to take a risk, and once I got it home, Mrs. Moughmoore had some misgivings about the looks. I initially insisted it was fine, but as I looked at it and looked around the room, I started to get a sinking feeling. The pictures didn’t tell the whole story, the condition was worse than expected, and it just looked off.
The overhangs were excessive. The splayed legs looked stupid. The short legs under the drawer-side were cheesy, and didn’t scream master craftsmanship. BUT, the long tapered legs otherwise looked the part, the lip around the desktop was cool, and the overall design of the drawer-side, with its angular elements and recessed pulls, was appealing. What to do?
Break my own rules, call me the mayor
As an MCM furniture enthusiast, I’ve looked at enough examples to know what I like, and what design elements look and feel right to me. And at this point in my life, I’ve become handy enough with tools to know what I can do with them. I am by no means an expert, and I make all kinds of mistakes, but that’s how you learn.
Despite hating people “upcyling” good used furniture with gaudy paint and pulls, something ultimately reversible, I decided I would do something drastic. If the desk’s original looks couldn’t win me over, then I was going to win over the desk and make it look the way I wanted. What follows is a step-by-step chronicling of a sanctimonious MCM scold descending into heresy and hypocrisy, hacking and sawing and drilling away at a 50+ year old piece of furniture.
Concept art
Once upon a time, I learned to use Photoshop. These days, I don’t have access to it, but I have found a surprisingly good photo editor for Android called PicsArt. It’s free to use and remarkably versatile, but it’s full of obnoxious ads. Fair trade.
As it turns out, fine selection and clone stamp are a lot harder on a phone than on a PC, but I was able to bang out a serviceable visual showing the concept I was looking to achieve, and it gave me the confidence to move forward past the point of no return.
Correcting the legs
Splayed legs can look good in some circumstances, but this ain’t it, chief. On some furniture, the legs are held on by a threaded rod embedded in the leg and a metal bracket on the underside. Others use dowels, screws, or bolts. On this particular desk, the legs were screwed to a board, which was then screwed to the apron and desktop. A short, narrow surface protrudes from the tops of the legs, which sits tightly in angled slot on the board. We’ll call this the tongue.
Losing the splay was going to take some modifications, and those mods would be permanent. I knew I couldn’t leave the legs in their original positions, because it would look weird having them set so far inward. I also realized that the tops of the legs would require some material removal in order to sit flush with the apron at their new angle. In order to get the desk to sit level, I would have to shorten the legs so that the surface where the tongue meets the top of the leg would measure equal to the distance from the floor to the bottom of the apron.
It helps to think about geometry. In the original configuration, the leg length was the hypotenuse of a right triangle. I used my tape measure to mark a points around the leg and used those points to draw a cut line. It was a little tricky measuring the line due to the taper, and that showed later on after cutting, but it was within acceptable tolerances. I clamped each leg to a pair of sawhorses and used a jigsaw to carefully make the cuts. These are hardwood legs, so they didn’t cut as quickly or easily as the pine and other cheap material I’m used to.
After cutting around each leg, the tops now had a surface that would be parallel to the ground when the legs were standing straight up, and the tops of the tongues were at an angle. I had to trim the tongues to bring them in line with the legs. After that, I needed to modify the board that interfaced with the legs, to push the legs outward to the corners of the apron. The solution ended up being so elegant that it made me smile. All I had to do was cut the outboard part of the slot and slide it over.
I glued the newly moved pieces and clamped them in place to get a good bond. The tongues now fit snugly between the mounting board and the apron. I drilled new holes for the leg mounting screws and reattached the mounting board.
Before re-mounting the legs, I loosely test-fit them on the desk to see how they would look.
I was happy with how they turned out, so I took the legs off and used a chisel to shave down a few spots to get a better fit. After reattaching the legs, I went to work on what felt like the more dramatic change: removing the desktop overhangs.
Chop Shop: Chop Top
Shortening the top had an easy part and a hard part. The easy part was cutting the flat desktop portion. The raised edges are actually solid wood pieces nailed to the desktop, so I first had to remove those.
Taking the top off was a matter of taking out a whole bunch of screws. No dowels or adhesive were used to hold the top on.
The next part was straightforward. I measured the length I wanted for the top, then made my cut lines using a straight edge, square, and a pencil. In order to reduce possible damage, I placed the nice side of the desktop facing downward, and went to make my first cut with my circular. I clamped a straight edge to my work surface, making sure it was square, and made the cut.
Then I remembered a great pro-tip to prevent tear-out. Just put a strip of masking tape over the area you’re about to cut. Whoops.
I remembered to tape my next cut line to protect the veneer on the desktop. It worked.
The next part was more challenging. I had to cut the edge trim to length at a 45 degree angle to fit with the existing pieces. I wanted to be extra careful, so I decided to use a miter box and make the cut with handsaw. I carefully measured, lined up the piece in the miter box, and starting sawing.
The angle was good, and it fit well with the side trim. When I placed it next to the newly shortened desktop, I remembered the old adage: measure twice, cut once.
Well, folks.
I had to cut a small chunk off the scrap trim and piece it onto my too-short edge trim, securing it in place with wood glue and a brad nail. After that, I re-secured all the edge trim to the top using brad nails, which are nearly invisible. I didn’t use any glue, but I may decide to go back and do that later.
With all of the pieces cut, drilled, chiseled, sawn, and sworn at, it was time to put it all back together.
The Big Reveal
After putting all 10,000 screws back in, I had my completed desk in the room, and I took a step back to see what these hands had wrought.
Haters gonna say it’s photoshopped.
I was really pleased with the finished look. It now feels properly proportioned, has better lines, and fits the space better. I paired it with a neat Kroehler dining chair that I picked up from Facebook Marketplace for $10.
And a banker’s lamp for $5. Also pictured: my composition book, for drafting blog posts.
Takeaways
The desk is done for now, but I have some further improvements in mind for the future. I’m considering wrapping the top with some kind of durable, black or brown material (like the leather or oilcloth surfaces on old desks), to protect it from pencils, pens, and other hazards. I might also get a custom glass top cut. I’d also like to nix that blonde color that was popular in the 50s. And those stubby legs on the drawer-side demand an upgrade.
Every project is a learning experience. You learn new things and relearn old things that you wish you’d remembered. Always tape that cut line. Maybe measure three times, then cut once. I learned that the wheat-colored blonde finish is actually covering some quite attractive wood (likely mahogany or similar).
This project made me overcome some of my hangups about this old furniture. And I learned that I could take an aesthetic judgment, mock up a visual, then make it a reality, if I was willing to work for it. Above all, I learned how to stop worrying, and love the saw.
And if you come around here with that chalk paint and pulls, you’ll get it, boyo.
Big Orange Ranch 