Lind would select the tree he wanted for production and have it cut and sawed into 14 "quarter boards," a lumbermans measure. He stored them carefully for several years to season. When he was satisfied with their condition, he cut the lumber into blocks roughly 3x6x13 inches. Each block was weighed since the density of the wood varied from one to another. The blocks were marked and stored in pairs, and the pairs stored in groups.

 

He worked in ounces, not grams, and used an inexpensive kitchen scale to match weights of clubs. He was proud of his ability to "eyeball" precise measurements, and relied on skill and experience rather than calipers. As did most of the craftsmen of the time, Lind used templates and patterns made of a stiff, thin material called fiberboard. The weakness of the construction was the fact that he hollowed out the clubs by hand with a rotary burr, a machine on which he lost three fingers. The thickness of the club wall was not always uniform, and the light clubs couldn't take too much punishment. Being an old club swinger, Lind had a religious fervor regarding the knob of the club. He viewed it as essential for stabilizing the club, and, most important, for precise control when passing.

 

The third step in the Lind evolution of the club was to lighten it to 11 ounces, which was just about heaven for the jugglers who could remember performing with solid clubs. Lighter weight, durability and improved balance made the Lind club the final stage in achieving the perfect wooden club.

 

His 14-ounce club, named the "May" model in honor of Bobby May, became his standard. One of the advantages of early juggling get-togethers was that every juggler used Lind Clubs. Earlier, many jugglers made their own of barrel staves or sticks with a knob on the end. Club passing between strangers was made easier as uniformity of equipment grew to be the norm.

 

In 1967, when Harry Lind died, the mantle of quality club manufacturing was already passing to Stu Raynolds, friend of the Lind family, who introduced a new age of high-tech production materials.

 

Balls Go To War

In the vaudeville era, a juggler might have to wait a couple of months for a set of Lind clubs or settle for clubs from smaller makers. But there was at least an assured source. Little thought was given to balls until World War II. Suddenly, it seemed, all the rubber in the country had been siphoned off for the war effort. Jugglers saw their equipment ground into the dust on foreign shores under the tread of marching armies.

 

In reading the archives of this time, one feels that the lack of props or the need for better ones was the catalyst that brought jugglers together. The rubber shortage, like the simultaneous shortage of foil paper to decorate clubs, tightened the juggling network.

 

Eventually a source of juggling balls was found - Canadian lacrosse balls. The chief supplier was a firm called the Backrack Raisin Company in.Montreal. By the end of the war, the T. Eaton Company of Toronto was selling lacrosse balls made from war-time rubber for $3.90 a dozen. They didn't have the bounce of pre-war rubber, but they were better than nothing at 32 cents each. By 1947 post-war inflation shot them up to $1.15.