The Stanley No. 45: The Ultimate Combination Plane

With the extensive collection of tools in my shop, hand planes are my favorite. And if we’re going to talk about ‘must-have’ hand planes for any collection, the Stanley No. 45 is at the top of the list. Before owning one, this plane intrigued me. Unlike other hand planes that have a single blade (or iron), the Stanley 45 featured multiple blades. The number of blades varied based on the year and optional extras that could be purchased, but when it was introduced in 1884, I believe it came with 17 blades, eventually expanding to 23 as production continued until 1962. While it wasn’t the first combination plane—companies like Siegley, Fales, and Walker had their own versions—Stanley was the one that dominated the market.

I won’t go into a full sales description of all the blade sizes and shapes, but it was promoted as a plane capable of plowing grooves, cutting rabbets, dados, and beads, matching tongue and groove joints, and even slitting—all within one box. It was marketed as “Seven Planes in One.” Like many others, I bought into that concept, and I was eager to try it out for myself.

The Man with the Plan

Although Stanley gets credit for the No. 45, the real mastermind behind its design was Justus A. Traut. He started working at Stanley at age 18 alongside his father but later became an independent contractor for the company in 1875. In today’s terms, he would be considered a freelancer, designing and patenting tools that Stanley would purchase if they saw value in them. In return, he earned 5% royalties on sales. This tactic of acquiring patents is a fascinating and sometimes contentious topic, one I plan to explore in a future newsletter. In the end, Traut amassed an astonishing 145 patents, earning him the title of “The Patent King of the United States.”

This next part is purely speculation on my part, but I’ve always been fascinated by the filigree motifs found on many older tools. On the side of the Stanley 45, there’s a distinctive flower design that resembles a lily—more specifically, a yellow trout lily. It makes me wonder if Justus A. Traut intentionally had it added as a subtle nod to his surname. A hidden signature, perhaps?

Is It Worth It?

After all the history, the marketing, and the company's success, the big question remains: How does the Stanley 45 actually perform? In my opinion, the hype doesn’t quite match the results. For making grooves and small rabbets, it performs reasonably well. However, when cutting beads, I often encounter tear-out. Personally, I find myself reaching for my hollow and round wooden planes instead of the 45 when making beads. I’ve never tried using it for dados since I have other methods for that task. The plane feels awkward in my hands, doesn’t glide smoothly, and can be clumsy to set up.

That being said, I still love having it in my collection. Every so often, I take it down from the shelf, open the box, and experiment with it—secretly hoping I’ll master it one day. But after about 20 minutes, I usually end up putting it right back, where it waits for another attempt.

If you don’t own one, I’d say it’s a fascinating piece of tool history worth having. If you do own one, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Do you use it regularly, or is it more of a conversation piece in your shop? Let me know by writing me at [email protected].

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