The Dubbelman Connection

Hoops on a Pile – Beautiful

Original Dutch article: “Hoepels op een hoop, prachtig,” BN / De Stem, June 24, 2006, by Dominique Elshout

Every Monday, the hoop makers spent a bit of money on liquor—not for celebration, but for courage. The drinking wasn’t social; it was a way to face the long workweek ahead and to forget the poverty.

Willow wood (griendhout) was cut and bundled for transport to the harbor, then delivered to the hoop factories. There, the wood was processed into hoops, which were used to make wooden barrels.

📸 Photos by Heemkundekring Willem Snichem, Hooge and Lage Zwaluwe
 

It was a beautiful sight to see the piles of hoops.

Hoop makers worked in villages and towns around the Biesbosch, such as Lage Zwaluwe, Sliedrecht, and Hardinxveld. Many people earned their living from hoop production, though it wasn’t a wealthy trade, says Bas Dubbelman (72) from Hooge Zwaluwe. His grandfather, also named Bas, owned one of many hoop factories in Lage Zwaluwe. In the early 1900s, there were an estimated fifteen to twenty small factories. Larger ones employed up to ten workers; smaller ones had just two or three.

It was a peculiar profession, with its own unique vocabulary. The wood came from low-pruned willows growing in wet, flood-prone land. Long twigs were split lengthwise using a dissel (a type of curved knife) into two, or with a klucht into three. Though splitting with a klucht may seem easy, old reports say it required many hours of training and was physically demanding on the wrists.

The split twigs were trimmed to remove bulges, creating flat strips of wood. These were bent into hoops using a bending machine, then placed into a special mold (schijvenbord) to shape and size them precisely.

There were distinct types of hoops. Dubbelman refers to “white” and “regular” hoops. The bark of the white hoop was removed, exposing the pale inner wood. To preserve them, hoops were stored overnight in sheds filled with sulfur fumes, which penetrated the wood.

Dubbelman lights up when he describes the stunning sight of hoop piles stacked throughout the village—or the ships loaded with hoops in the harbor of Lage Zwaluwe. “Beautiful!” he exclaims.

From the harbor, hoops were shipped to Germany, England, Denmark, and Norway. They weren’t children’s toys—they were essential for barrel-making.

With the arrival of metal oil drums after World War II, the hoop-making trade disappeared. “It’s a shame,” says Dubbelman, “but there’s nothing to be done.”

Surviving hoop makers don’t look back with much nostalgia. “We started work at four or five in the morning, by the light of an oil lamp,” recalls Dubbelman. “Can you imagine?”

Then he shares an astonishing story. Lage Zwaluwe remained divided long after the war—into a Catholic part and a Protestant part. Hoop-making was Protestant work. “All the labor in the Biesbosch was done by fellow Protestants,” says Dubbelman. “What did the Catholics do? I have no idea. I don’t know anything about their side.”

The Catholics—the other side. There were past tensions between Protestants and Catholics, but not much more. “When we went swimming in summer, maybe one Catholic among a hundred Protestants.”

Occasionally, a Catholic crossed the divide to find work. Bas recalls working with one. But he still wonders what the others did for a living—“Maybe mostly farming,” he guesses.

Today, Bas Dubbelman dines at the Candlelight restaurant next to the Catholic church. “Back then,” he says, “that would’ve been unthinkable.”