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In Memoriam: Richard L. Schneider

In Memoriam: Richard L. Schneider

March 5, 1936 — January 31, 1997

by Jeffrey R. Elliott

Originally published in American Lutherie #49, 1997 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Five, 2008

 

I first met Richard in 1964 while accompanying a long-time friend on a chance visit to his Detroit workshop. The three of us spent an enjoyable afternoon taking turns playing his guitars, and I fondly remember Richard’s Mexican folk songs. That afternoon changed my life. My friend left knowing he would have a new guitar, and I left knowing I had to make them.

Fate smiled and eventually Richard accepted me as an apprentice, fulfilling my dreams. Many months later Richard began my friend’s guitar. One day Richard asked if I’d like to work on it. I was surprised and delighted with the prospect of contributing to the realization of my friend’s instrument. This thoughtful gesture is typical of the generosity, trust, consideration, and a sense of the poetic that was Richard’s.

Photo by Ivan-Roger Sita.

I was the first of many who Richard taught over his thirty-five years of guitar making. He was a great teacher, and his enthusiasm was infectious and inspiring. His work exemplified his standard of fine craft and aesthetic harmony combined with imagination and the eternal search for the ideal sound. He was one of the most innovative people I have ever known, and his contribution to guitar making will continue to influence generation after generation of luthiers.

Via con Dios, Richard, you will be missed.

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Review: The Guitar of Andres Segovia Hermann Hauser 1937

Review: The Guitar of Andres Segovia Hermann Hauser 1937

Reviewed by Tom Harper

Originally published in American Lutherie #83, 2005 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015



The Guitar of Andrés Segovia Hermann Hauser 1937
Liner notes by Richard Bruné and Don Pilarz
Produced by Dynamic S.r.l., Genova, Italy
Dynamic catalog number CDS 433

Wouldn’t it be great to have in one source working drawings, textual explanations, photographs, and recordings of one of the most important instruments ever built? Dynamic’s offering does exactly this. Richard Bruné, Don Pilarz, and the Metropolitan Museum of Art collaborated to create a definitive description of Andrés Segovia’s famous 1937 Hauser guitar. The result is a boxed set containing a multilingual pamphlet (Italian, English, German, and French), three sheets of full-scale working drawings, a full-length audio CD of Segovia playing the instrument, and a poster. All this fits into a box that is about 6" × 9" × 3/4".

The pamphlet describes Segovia’s challenges to establish the guitar as a serious classical instrument, the requirements for the instrument, technical details about it, and its physical state. One also gets a sense of Hermann Hauser as a builder. It is clear that he did not create great instruments by accident or luck. There are also almost thirty color photographs that display important details of the outside and inside of the instrument that are very useful to a builder wanting to create a Hauser-style instrument. The writing is clear and concise and provides construction details that I have not seen elsewhere.

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Review: Aux origins de la guitare: vihuela de mano by Joël Dugot

Review: Aux origins de la guitare: vihuela de mano by Joël Dugot

Reviewed by Bryan Johanson

Originally published in American Lutherie #81, 2005 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015



Aux origines de la guitare: la vihuela de mano
Joël Dugot
ISBN: 2-914147-23-6
Paris, France: Cité de la Musique, 95 pp. 2004
www.cite-musique.fr

When I started high school, I was given the choice of taking French, Spanish, German, or Latin. This was in addition to the regular “boy” curriculum of math, English, P.E., biology, social studies, and metal shop. (“Girl” curriculum included secretarial studies and home economics.) I had heard that cute girls took French (a gross inaccuracy, as it turned out), so French seemed like a good choice. It was taught by a very round, short, bald man who insisted we call him Maitre. Every day he would breeze into class, walking quickly to the front saying, “Bonjour la classe!” as he went. We would drone back, “Bonjour, Maitre.” We could normally tell from his voice what kind of day it would be. If he was jovial, it would be bad French jokes day. If his voice was stern, we would be covering new material. If his voice sounded tired, we would be conjugating verbs. On rare days he would say nothing at all. That was the silent language of pop quiz.

For two years the main focus of the class was to learn to have a conversation with correct pronunciation. My conversational French was never very good. This was mostly due to the fact that I could barely hold a conversation in English. It was a harsh thing to take a shy, sensitive fifteen-year-old boy and stand him in front of class with an equally shy fifteen-year-old girl and make them speak to each other in clear, enunciated tones: “Hello Claire! Are you going to the library? I heard the record player does not work. Have you seen Jean? He is at the bakery. I think it is going to rain today. It is very moist....”

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Review: The Vihuela de Mano and The Spanish Guitar: A Dictionary of the Makers of Plucked and Bowed Musical Instruments of Spain by José L. Romanillos and Marian Harris Winspear

Review: The Vihuela de Mano and The Spanish Guitar: A Dictionary of the Makers of Plucked and Bowed Musical Instruments of Spain by José L. Romanillos and Marian Harris Winspear

Reviewed by Bryan Johanson

Originally published in American Lutherie #80, 2004 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Seven, 2015



The Vihuela de Mano and The Spanish Guitar: A Dictionary of the Makers
of Plucked and Bowed Musical Instruments of Spain (1200-2002)

José L. Romanillos and Marian Harris Winspear
ISBN 84-607-6141-X
Guijosa, Spain: Sanguino Press, 585 pp., 2002

In the world of players and makers of fine classical guitars, the name José Romanillos stands tall. For decades he built some of the finest classical guitars ever made. His work with Julian Bream is legendary. With the 1987 publication of his first major book, Antonio de Torres: Guitar Maker — His Life and Work (with an extensive revision published in 1997), we were introduced to another side of this impressive artist, that of author, scholar, and fact-sleuth extraordinaire.

We now have his latest contribution to the realm of fact: his amazing new book on Spanish luthiers, The Vihuela de Mano and The Spanish Guitar; a Dictionary of the Makers of Plucked and Bowed Musical Instruments of Spain (1200–2002). It is a rare thing these days to find an author (in this case coauthors, Romanillos and his wife Marian Winspear) tackle the concept of writing a dictionary. The result of this ambitious undertaking is a highly readable reference book that includes much information not ordinarily included in a dictionary proper.

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Review: The Century That Shaped the Guitar (From the Birth of the Six-String Guitar to the Death of Tárrega) by James Westbrook

Review: The Century That Shaped the Guitar
(From the Birth of the Six-String Guitar to the Death of Tárrega) by James Westbrook

Reviewed by Bryan Johanson

Previously published in American Lutherie #88, 2006



The Century That Shaped the Guitar
(From the Birth of the Six-String Guitar to the Death of Tarrega)

James Westbrook
2005. 180pp.
Available from theguitarmuseum.com.

In 1813 the soon-to-be-renowned composer and guitarist Fernando Sor left Spain, never to return. His destination was Paris, in the only country that would have him. After two years of frustration and disappointment he moved to London where he was to finally achieve the success that had eluded him. The large forces that brought Sor to London include his education, his professional training, the many wars in Europe, and taste.

Sor was given a liberal education in his native Barcelona. He studied composition, singing, and the newly invented 6-string guitar. With the premiere in 1797 of his opera Telemachus on Calypso’s Isle, Sor became the celebrated wunderkind. But a career in music was not in his immediate future. He had received a military training that seemed unlikely to cause his musical career much trouble. But, Napoleon’s invasion of Spain changed all that. Sor was thrown into active duty. When the French finally conquered Spain, Sor was given the choice of continuing his military career as part of the occupying French army, or joining the Spanish resistance. (The resistance was not doing so well, as documented by the many gruesome paintings by Goya.) Sor chose to continue his military career with the French (bad move). When Napoleon was finally defeated, these Spanish afrancesados were being murdered by the now victorious resistance at an alarming rate. Like many Spaniards in his position, Sor joined the exodus of 1813 and moved to Paris.

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