Posted on March 2, 2024March 6, 2024 by Dale Phillips This is My Life This is My Life by Phil Boulding Originally published in Guild of American Luthiers Quarterly 6, #2, 1978 I have been building instruments for nearly seven years now, starting in the basement of my parents house in Boulder, Colorado, fresh out of high school, building guitars. I had only the aid of Sloane’s book, a spare-time guitar maker friend, and the experience of working with a cabinet maker for a while. Things were very slow for the first 2 years, until I got introduced to dulcimers — especially the hammered dulcimer. As soon as I started building and playing these, (it didn’t take me long to learn, as I have been playing most of my life) what appeared to be a hobby turned into a livelihood, which took another year to get on its own feet. That’s when I moved to Seattle (November ‘74) and as far as I know, I was the first hammered dulcimer builder here. Since then this heart-warming little instrument has blossomed and flourished in this city, mostly thanks to street players in the Market and Pioneer Square. Then about 1 1/2 years ago, a secret and long submerged inspiration began to surface — my love for the harp. I began taking lessons then, and shortly thereafter began building small 3-octave harps of various designs and styles. Only just last week did I finally graduate to my first large Irish Minstrel Harp, nearly 5 octaves worth, with an exquisite sound. I used my imagination to figure out how to extend the soundboard like they do in some of the larger concert harps. The rest of it is pretty much patterned after the minstrel harp in Gilds Jaffrenou’s book, Folk Harps. Pictured in my first attempt as a Romanian Cymbalom (a successful one at that!) which I designed and build in collaboration with Ian Mihai, a master of the concert cymbalom from Romania who came with 2 others to teach their music at the University of Washington here. Since I have very little connection with the University, I was very fortunate to be introduced by a student-friend. The concert cymbalom is what I would consider to be the ultimate hammered dulcimer — nearly 5 octaves in range, fully chromatic, with a very unusual arrangement of half-steps. It also features a damper mechanism, a necessity for the Romanian style music, on such a loud and ringing instrument. My instrument was scaled down approximately 3/4 size, ranging 3 1/2 octaves; patterned after the concert cymbalom temporarily in use at the university. A magical-majestic sound, the music of which I am still a novice. I am more in command of the traditional Irish music on the diatonic hammered dulcimer (along with some contemporary arrangements). Become A Member to Continue Reading This Article This article is part of our premium web content offered to Guild members. To view this and other web articles, join the Guild of American Luthiers. Members also receive 4 annual issues of American Lutherie and get discounts on products. For details, visit the membership page. If you are already a member, login for access or contact us to setup your account.
Posted on March 2, 2024March 6, 2024 by Dale Phillips Guilds of the Middle Ages Guilds of the Middle Ages by Gregory Smith Originally published in Guild of American Luthiers Quarterly, Volume 9, #4, 1981 The Guilds of the Middle Ages in western Europe were the outgrowth of religious, economic, political, social and legal needs of the working class people of the period. The collective power and influence of a large group of craftsmen or businessmen could wield enough force to effectively combat the oppression of the feudal lords. The guilds influenced them in various ways ranging from petitioning their grievances, leading revolts against the nobles in the case of the Flemish weaving guilds, or the wealthier guilds simply paid the lords to issue ordinances that were advantageous to their trade. Guilds were established so the workers could gain control of the different trades and professions by setting standards of workmanship and prices of goods and through prohibiting poorly trained workmen from carrying on a trade, and by setting up a hierarchy of status within the system. They even had pension funds and gave money to journeymen and masters that were ill. In London, a guild came into existence by an ordinance of the mayor and aldermen of the city which granted them the power to control their trade. This was usually followed by a Royal Charter of Incorporation granted by the king.1 Throughout most of Europe, guilds were chartered and named either according to the materials used by the craftsman or by the item produced. The Joiners, who were incorporated in England in 1307, joined wood together and this group included cabinetmakers, makers of virginals, harpsichords and other wooden instruments such as lutes and viols. The Brasiers and Stringers were granted a charter in 1416. The Brasiers of brass workers made various items including trumpets and other brass instruments. The Stringers made strings for archery bows and it seems likely that they also made gut strings required by the many types of stringed instruments of the Renaissance. In 1603, the king granted a charter to the Musicians and also to the Turners, who turned wooden articles, including recorders and other wind instruments on their lathes. The instrument makers, or luthiers, of France were united into one guild in 1599 by a statute issued by Henry IV. Before that time they were ordinarily grouped by the materials with which they worked. The trumpet makers around 1300, for example, were members of the iron and copper pot makers.2 As early as 1270 a small guild of wire drawers existed in Paris.3 Become A Member to Continue Reading This Article This article is part of our premium web content offered to Guild members. To view this and other web articles, join the Guild of American Luthiers. Members also receive 4 annual issues of American Lutherie and get discounts on products. For details, visit the membership page. If you are already a member, login for access or contact us to setup your account.
Posted on March 1, 2024March 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips Trimming Violin Bridges Trimming Violin Bridges by George Manno Originally published in American Lutherie #6, 1986 Few will argue the statement that there are no two violins the same, even if the arching, graduation, position of the bass bar and soundpost, and even the preparation of the wood may seem to be exactly the same. All violins do share some of the same properties, but each instrument has a single property of its own that distinguishes it from another. You’d be surprised what 0.1MM, either in thickness or thinness, can do to the sound of an instrument. An adjustment that minute can change the tone tremendously. Does the same hold true for a violin bridge? Yes and no. The following is my personal expansion upon the information given in Data Sheet #224 by Alan Carruth. As Mr. Carruth states, violin bridge tuning is a trial and error situation which is challenging when searching for an instrument’s highest potential. Become A Member to Continue Reading This Article This article is part of our premium web content offered to Guild members. To view this and other web articles, join the Guild of American Luthiers. Members also receive 4 annual issues of American Lutherie and get discounts on products. For details, visit the membership page. If you are already a member, login for access or contact us to setup your account.
Posted on December 27, 2023May 15, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: George A. Smith In Memoriam: George A. Smith December 7, 1930 – May 18, 2023 by Maria Gonzalez-Leon, Peter Tsiorba, and David Franzen Originally published in American Lutherie #150, 2023 Photo by Peter Tsiorba. It is with a heavy heart that I attempt to put into words what George meant to me in my life. His love, his knowledge, not only of music and instruments, but also of the history of our country and Portland, Oregon, was truly incomparable. His absence is deeply felt, and I find myself yearning to call him, as we used to speak at least once a week. He selflessly gave me so much of his time, love, and wisdom on various subjects, including history, music, and politics — fortunately, we shared the same political views. George came into my life in an improbably way. Approximately forty-five years ago, I was in search of a roommate, and in response to my ad about a room for rent, he brought one of his friends to check out the place. From the very first moment, we connected over our shared passion for classical music, particularly the guitar, and I discovered his exceptional talent as a luthier. I knew that we were destined to be best friends forever. George’s knowledge of woodcrafting, particularly in constructing guitars, banjos, and even a couple of harpsichords, was beyond compare. Generous with his time, he was always willing to share his expertise with anyone interested. Throughout my life, George remained a constant source of support during challenges and successes. He encouraged me to pursue my dreams and further educate myself to earn professional degrees. I fondly remember the times when my daughters were young, and we would visit George’s house. My daughters and I hold memories of sitting together and watching him skillfully paint one of his harpsichords. It was a delightful experience as he patiently explained the process to the girls, answering all their questions about music, instruments, and the intricacies of construction. His love for sharing knowledge was evident in those moments, but it was George’s warm and loving nature that made those moments even more special. Beyond his musical talents, he surprised us with his culinary skills, and I particularly loved the bread croutons he made — they were so delicious, I would eat them like popcorn. Those cherished memories with George will forever remain in our hearts. As the years passed, I relocated from Portland to California and even lived in Spain for a time, but despite the distance, our friendship never wavered. George was always curious about my experiences, especially when it came to flamenco music, wanting to know every detail of the music I heard in the Romani neighborhoods of the Alicante. He had a way of making friends effortlessly, and his warm-hearted nature endeared him to people from all walks of life. He cherished friendships and had an astounding memory for details, recounting stories from his youth. George’s passion for music and life extended beyond the boundaries of his immediate circle. He corresponded with people from all over the world, exchanging stories about music and sharing his vast knowledge. I feel incredibly grateful to have had George in my life. He was not only and dear friend but also an exceptional human being who left a mark on the lives of those he touched. Though he is no longer with us, his memory and his legacy as a luthier and a friend will forever be cherished in our hearts. Rest in peace, dear George. — Maria Gonzalez-Leon Photo courtesy of Peter Tsiorba I met George Smith in the mid 2000s. During that time, lutherie knowledge, along with everything else in the 21st century, was steadily migrating into digital ecosystems. Video content, tonewoods, tooling, building techniques... it all seemed only a click or two away. Knowing George Smith connected me to a very different era of lutherie, one where supplies and tonewoods were elusive, and information hard to find. I recall this story of one of George’s early tonewood orders. A certain gentleman in Los Angeles advertised European spruce and other supplies to luthiers. When one thinks of a supplier, one might expect some shelves with inventory awaiting shipment. Well, this particular supplier typically had nothing to ship. At least not right away. Incoming orders would be banked, and once enough payments had accumulated, the “supplier” would place larger batch orders for his presold wares. It would take some months for the tonewoods or tools to arrive from Europe or another unknown locale. Once received, individual orders would be shipped to customers. Lag time from order to fulfillment? By modern Instacart standards, eternity! And in case you were curious about the grading methods applied to your tonewood order, yours is the next set on the pile. Thank you George, for doing your part, carrying lutherie knowledge across all those decades, and for leaving us with lessons in patience, frugality, and perseverance. — Peter Tsiorba George Smith was someone I have known pretty much my whole life. I was a young boy when I first became aware of him in our local guitar community. He was a distinguished looking gentleman wearing a mariner’s cap and he loved to talk about stringed instruments for as long as you would listen, and he made many different kinds himself. When I looked at him I wouldn’t have necessarily thought he looked like a movie star when he was young. But early photos of him proved otherwise. He had sort of a Leonardo DiCaprio look to him. I imagine he was popular with women. Whenever George heard an interesting instrument, he always wanted to borrow it overnight to study it closely and measure it in his shop. I believe that through this process he learned key information. When I played for him he usually seemed more interested in the sound of the instrument more than any particular piece of music being played. George was always very kind to me, and generous with his time. We had long conversations about world history, or even the history of the buildings built in downtown Portland. He remembered when they were erected, and what businesses went in them, and which ones failed, and who replaced them, his memories reaching back decades. Talking to George was never boring. He usually knew more on many subjects than I, and he seemed to have a somewhat encyclopedic memory. In addition to making stellar-quality guitars, he also made harpsichords and virginals. I remember a beautiful harpsichord of his being played at the Marylhurst musical instrument show. He once told me harpsichord construction can be thought of as akin to flamenco guitars in some ways in how they respond. Frequently cypress is used to offer a quick and lightweight response. When I told him I bought a clavichord at an estate sale, and I said it seemed rather quiet, he told me to bring it over and he would take a look at it. When I did, he decided to replace the soundboard right then and there, so we got to work together on a low-risk fun project together. It is a sweet memory sitting on the floor looking through his stash of strings, and gluing in the new soundboard, all in the same day. The clavichord ended up sounding pretty much exactly the same as before, but I wouldn’t trade the memory. I have owned four of George’s guitars over my career. The first was an African blackwood spruce guitar. When I listen back to my recording of the Chaconne, or Rodrigo’s Fandango, I think to myself, how could I ever have parted with it? I am touched to now own his final instrument, which seems to me to be the perfect mixture of all the ones that came before it. The top is made of some of the finest European spruce you can find anywhere, and it had been aging in his upstairs stash for over fifty years. The back is made of Malaysian blackwood, which seems to my ears to support upper harmonics better than African blackwood. Maybe it’s a little lighter; I can hear a little bit of Indian rosewood qualities in it, along with the power of blackwood. When I slice the string at an angle, that silky/airy quality that many guitars can lack is there in spades. Last summer during Covid, he was having trouble getting around upstairs in his house where his wood stash was kept, and he called me up and asked me to come over and help him sort them into matched pairs. We worked a couple days at that. There was some amazing looking wood there. Afterwards, we relaxed in the nook just outside his kitchen and we had a couple Black Butte Porters together. I don’t really like beer, but with George it had become sort of a tradition. I think we complained it wasn’t the old recipe. I spent time with him twice in the last two weeks before his passing. I am so grateful I did. He said he didn’t have long. In spite of his quickly declining health, he seemed quite lucid and warm. He didn’t seem scared. He would occasionally exclaim he was angry about it, but it was just a brief flash, and then he was back chatting away. We reminisced about everything we had talked about over the years. We shared a couple Obsidian stout beers together on the last two visits, and dolmas as snacks. He mentioned when he grew up in this town, it wasn’t very easy to find quality guitars. George never used to like to talk about his age, but in our last conversation he mentioned he was thirteen years old at some point in World War II. It kind of puts things in perspective. I think he was ninety-two. That’s a long life, and he added beauty to the world in such a lovely way. His guitars will long outlive me. I am grateful for his long friendship. I will miss you, George! I hope you feel ease and a fantastic bliss wherever you are. Feel free to visit me if you can. — David Franzen
Posted on July 26, 2023February 29, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Rick Turner In Memoriam: Rick Turner July 30, 1943 – April 17, 2022 by GAL Staff, David Bolla, and Steve Klein Originally published in American Lutherie #147, 2022 Rick Turner epitomized the imagination, courage, and determination of a lot of people in the Lutherie Boom generation, people who dove into guitar making before there was detailed resource material, before there were sources of parts and specialized tools, before there was a supportive community of generous and knowledgeable makers. He joined the GAL early on and spoke at our 1980 Convention in San Francisco, then again, twenty-four years later, at our 2004 Convention in Tacoma. He wrote a long-running column for American Lutherie called “Electronic Answer Man” in the 1990s. See this issue’s Web Extras for photos and links. — GAL Staff Photo by Jonathon Peterson. My first Guild of American Luthiers Convention was in Tacoma, Washington, in 2004. I stood outside the auction preview room, speaking with a small group of young luthiers around my age. I hadn’t been to Roberto-Venn yet. In fact, I got the call I had been accepted to the guitar-building school while at the convention. I was just there to learn as much as possible as I considered a future career path. As we stood there, a man wearing a Mickey Mouse T-shirt under a sport coat approached. He kindly took time to speak with us for a while about guitars, sharing his opinions on some of the topics we were discussing. He was much older than anyone else in the group, but it wasn’t noticeable by his demeanor. Only his graying hair and weathered face informed us of his age. He hung out for nearly twenty minutes, laughing and smiling with the rest of us. The following day, I attended the final lecture of the week. It was highly anticipated, as Rick Turner, one of the great legends of the trade, would be speaking about his vision of the future of the industry and innovations on the horizon. I was in awe as the man who had casually joined our conversation the day before took the stage, commanding the audience as a giant of the craft, larger than life. I only met him that one time, but it was a formative encounter. It was humbling to have someone who had such influence on an industry stop to speak with kids who were just entering it. I’m saddened to hear of his passing, but I am happy I had the chance to speak with a man, if only for twenty minutes, who had such an immense impact on music and instruments. — David Bolla I first met Rick Turner fifty years ago at a Prune Music guitar show in Mill Valley. From then on, his door was always open. I will miss his open information sharing. For instance, I first heard about cyanoacrylate glues from him, long before Krazy Glue was even a product. I’ll miss the synchronistic hook-ups that just seemed to happen around him. In the late ’80s he introduced me to Gibson’s new CEO, and that led me to reconnecting with Ned Steinberger and the creation of the headless project which continues today. In Rick’s shops over the years, I’ve met musicians and craftsmen; many I now call friends. I will also miss his forever-forward thinking. Just how do we accomplish the task at hand? He made the sub-bass string pickup for the first electric harp guitar that I built for Michael Hedges. Rick was a pragmatic, unapologetic self-promoter, but he held the door open for so many of us to pass through, with a smile and with encouragement. The passing of my old friend helped me remember just what his friendship, his ideas, and the sharing of his research has given me. He was the glue. — Steve Klein Young Rick Turner, 1966. Photo courtesy of Rick Turner. Lecturing at the 1980 GAL Convention in San Francisco. Photo by Dale Korsmo. At the Healdsburg Guitar Festival, 2000. Photo by Jonathon Peterson. Lecturing at the 2004 GAL Convention in Tacoma. Photo by Jonathon Peterson. Rick Turner (left) at GAL HQ after the 2004 GAL Convention in Tacoma. Also in this photo: Tini Burghardt, Richard Glick, Todd Rose, Geza Burghardt, Cyndy Burton. Photo by Hap Newsom. Rick Turner was an active GAL author. Follow this link to see a complete listing of his articles. https://www.search.luth.org/tag/turner%c2%b8-rick/ An interview from 2007 on the NAMM website. https://www.namm.org/library/oral-history/rick-turner Story on Rick Turner Guitars website. https://www.rickturnerguitars.com/stories-father-boutique-guitars Beau Hannam Remembers Rick Turner Published online by Guild of American Luthiers, 2022 I only met Rick Turner once, in Oct 2021, and I found him delightful. He greeted me with a hug. That surprised me; it’s not common for a guy his age on meeting someone for the first time. I admire flora drawings, and a few months prior I had commented on his post where he proudly showed his ex-wife’s book of trees with amazing illustrations by her (Eye Spy a Tree: Welcome to the Arboretum by Amber R. Turner). I guess he remembered that comment, as while we were talking in his office about guitar history and what we love in lutherie, he reached down and gave me a copy of the book. Unaware of his history with Alembic, the Grateful Dead or his Model 1 guitar, I first came to know Rick through his posts on various forums and Facebook and his often-forceful advice, particularly on the advocacy of the use of hot hide glue and epoxy. Indeed, his “glue list” remains an unequaled educational resource on which glues to use and where to use them. It is strange when a giant dies as it forces us to realize the importance of knowledge gained over a decades long career and that some of it is now lost. Looking back, I realize some of my fundamental building principles have been influenced by his teaching: His back-slanted saddle (about 7 degrees), carbon fiber in various areas, and his use of epoxy in building, especially for large surface glue-ups like fingerboards are all based on rock-solid common sense. He was forceful at times for the same reason any person who has been a luthier for decades is when they give advice to someone starting out in the industry who hasn’t yet the capacity for listening or learning. It is truly frustrating and something teachers have dealt with since the first sea creature crawled onto the land, looked back, and suggested to the second sea creature that they follow. But sometimes people, be they our children, friends, or strangers we try to give advice to, can only grow through pushing through a problem then seeing, acknowledging, and understanding the warned-about folly for themselves. Seeing, acknowledging, and understanding are the steps the mind needs to take and some people need to live them all fully. It is probably best to work through each step on your own, but being giving an Easter egg of advice which allows you to jump to the understanding part is a gift often not accepted, and rarely seen as the gold that it is. We are surrounded by fools gold on the internet. But Rick’s advice was always 24k. Since the advent of social media, I have seen a pattern. Lutherie and Life’s nuggets of wisdom are most often found not in systematically structured philosophical essays; they are found in what seems at first glance insignificant posts, in tiny ad hoc responses to a some other question, and in the beauty of a short, well reasoned and decisive answer to a seemingly unrelated topic. Search for the small things, in the big things. And vice-versa. Sayonara Rick. Don’t get epoxy on those heavenly clouds. — Photo courtesy of Beau Hannam
