Posted on

In Memoriam: Arthur E. Overholtzer

In Memoriam: Arthur E. Overholtzer

January 27, 1910 — 1982

by Bruce McGuire

Originally published in American Lutherie #35, 1993 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Three, 2004

In 1969 I was a student at Chico State, a hippie living in a rented house. One day the older man who lived next door came over to introduce himself. He said he was teaching a group of people to make guitars, and needed space for wood and tools; could he use my basement? I had never even played the guitar at that time, but I told him he could use the space if he would take me on as his apprentice.

That’s how I met Art Overholtzer. For three years I was his neighbor and private student. He became like a father to me. I helped him write his book Classical Guitar Making and took all the pictures except the ones that I am in. I’m proud of my legacy and relationship to one of the world’s best classical guitarmakers.

Arthur Overholtzer. All photos courtesy of Bruce McGuire.
Art and Bruce (seated at front) with students of the 1969 guitar-building class at Chico State College.
Bruce McGuire.
Art working on a soundboard.

Art suffered a severe heart attack in 1971, and he summoned me to his bedside. He asked me to take over his guitarmaking class at Chico State and carry on after him. I did both as best I could. He asked me to look after Orpha, his aging wife, and to make sure his book was published. As it turned out, he lived to see it in print and his heart condition was abated for awhile.

After moving to Santa Cruz in 1972, I continued building by Overholtzer’s technique. I also took on a student by the name of Richard Hoover. He built his first guitar under my supervision and we worked together as partners. My instruments bore my name as BR McGuire Guitars. His guitars bore the name Otis B. Rodeo. I took Richard up to the Overholtzers’ house in Chico to introduce him to my grand master. They liked each other instantly. Art was pleased to see Richard’s first guitar and he found comfort that I was passing on the tradition of training an apprentice in quality guitarmaking.

Richard was single, and in a position to devote his full time to instrument building. I had two girls at the time, and it was necessary for me to have a full-time job in addition to guitar building to support my family. In 1975 Richard Hoover and I parted company and he began the Santa Cruz Guitar Company.

Santa Cruz has been extremely successful and their guitars are some of the finest in the world. Richard has had interviews in numerous publications over the years and it burdens me that Art Overholtzer is often left out of the chronology. It was his precision, knowledge of wood, method of wood selection, and theory of building a guitar with no stress that was passed through me to Richard and his employees.

Editor’s note: Richard Hoover comments that he “owes an undying debt of gratitude to both Bruce McGuire and Art Overholtzer,” who he calls “the grandfather of my lineage.” Richard agrees with Bruce McGuire that it is unfortunate that nonlutherie publications generally edit out his mention of Overholtzer’s strong influence on a generation of guitarmakers.

My guitarmaking has been somewhat sporadic lately. I have three more children and a rich family life. I also have a new apprentice by the name of Steve Clifford who is the youth pastor of Santa Cruz Bible Church. We just glued the back on his first rosewood classical guitar.

Steve's guitar will sound incredible because I let him use my finest rosewood and spruce from the '60s. Art and I purchased rosewood in Berkeley when it cost $1.50 per pound and I still have enough to last the rest of my life. All of Art’s hardwood was passed on to me. Some of it has been drying for fifty years. His Sitka spruce came from Alaska thirty years ago and I also have a lifelong supply of it.

I need no recognition from Steve. Instead, the recognition will be to our Lord who was very close to Art Overholtzer and myself. Steve leads worship services with guitar and he has a great impact in his music ministry. Art will be smiling down from heaven when he realizes that his tradition of unconditional faith, uncompromising quality, and integrity have been passed on in a profound way. A thousand people will sing each week along with an instrument built by his apprentice’s apprentice.

Art Overholtzer needs to be given credit for being a fine human being who made an enormous contribution to guitar building through his unfailing generosity and through sharing his knowledge of guitar building with anyone who asked.

Posted on

In Memoriam: David Rubio

In Memoriam: David Rubio

December 17, 1934 – October 21, 2000

by Paul Fischer

Originally published in American Lutherie #65, 2001 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013

Born in London, David Rubio was educated at Whittingham College, Brighton, and then studied medicine at Trinity College, Dublin, but gave up because of color blindness. His other abiding interest at the time was the guitar, and in particular, flamenco. Self-taught, he spent time playing in London coffee bars before deciding to go to Spain, where he played with traditional singers and dancers.

To supplement his meager income, he began trading wood between guitar makers and, in the process, learned something of the craft and art of guitar making. The hours spent in these workshops was not wasted, and what he witnessed and experienced, further enhanced by his photographic memory, would be put to good use some years later.

He was invited to go with the Rafael de Cordoba ballet company on a tour of New York in the early ’60s, and on completion of the tour, Rubio remained in New York, having met Neste, who later became his wife.

He had been born David Joseph Spinks, but during his time in Spain had acquired the sobriquet “Rubio,” a reference to his pale north European complexion. He later Hispanicized his second given name, Joseph, to José.

It was during this period in the early ’60s that he decided at first to repair guitars, then quickly moved to making them. Working from a garret in Greenwich Village, he built these first instruments on a chest of drawers using tools purchased from Woolworths. The guitars carried the label: “José Rubio Constructor de Guitarras.”

A stroke of good fortune occurred when Julian Bream brought him an instrument for repair and was much impressed by a flamenco guitar just finished.

By the mid-’60s Rubio had made numerous guitars and had a reputation as “the gentleman guitar maker,” a reference to his habit of working in smart clothes. When I joined him in 1969, he still wore a velvet crimson waistcoat and bow tie while working. The connection with Bream led to an invitation to return to England and to use a recently renovated barn on Bream’s estate as a workshop. Rubio warmed to the idea, and in 1967 moved all his equipment (by then very professional) across the Atlantic and took up residence in rural Dorset.

Photo courtesy of Classical Guitar Magazine, UK.

Much influenced by the instruments of Simplicio, Santos Hernández, and Bouchet, by the time he was settled in his new workshop in England, Rubio’s guitars had taken on an identity very much their own, and now carried the label, “David J. Rubio, Luthier.” Working closely with Bream, his reputation and confidence grew rapidly. But it was Rubio’s desire to have his own workshop, and by 1968 he had found a property in Oxfordshire requiring much restoration, but ideal for his purpose. With his usual concern for detail, a 15th-century house with barn was sympathetically converted into an ideal workshop and residence.

Since his early days in Greenwich Village, Rubio had moved back to England, changed workshops twice, and established himself as a leading guitar and lute maker in just five years. That, by any standards, was an impressive achievement and perhaps enough for most people, but not Rubio. At that time, the early music scene was burgeoning, and there was demand for good copies of historical instruments. This was why, in January 1969, I presented myself at his door, informing him that I was a qualified harpsichord maker seeking to extend my experience into fretted instruments. To my surprise and delight, he said his next project was to make harpsichords. When could I start?

Grass never grew beneath Rubio’s feet, so with my experience in harpsichord making, we began an instrument almost immediately and presented it to the customer some months later. Other instruments soon followed — theorbos, vihuelas, citterns, pandora, as well as lutes and guitars.

With the rapidly increasing demand for all instruments, two makers could never hope to satisfy demand, so the decision was made to build another workshop, specifically for harpsichords, and to use the existing one for small fretted instruments. The workforce was increased from two to nine, inevitably putting great pressure on Rubio’s time, so I became manager, which freed him to concentrate on his next project, bowed instruments.

Creating yet another workshop for himself, in 1972 he began making Baroque violins and cellos, later followed by viola da gambas. With his increasing interest in bowed instruments, only a limited number of guitars and lutes were made by him personally; most carried the initials P.F. and a smaller number, the initials K.S. (Kazuo Sato).

By the mid-’70s, Rubio’s thoughts had turned to his long-term future and a desire to return to working solo. In 1979, he left Oxfordshire for Cambridge. As the market for harpsichords declined, his interest turned to the modern violin, and these he continued to make until the last few months of his life. Parallel to violin making, he undertook research into the varnishing techniques of the Cremonese masters, as well as acoustic testing for guitars and other instruments. For this work, Cambridge University conferred on him an honorary master’s degree.

During his years in Oxfordshire and Cambridge he made a relatively small number of guitars and lutes, but come the ’90s, his restless energy brought him full circle and back to his first choice, this time to something of a hybrid among guitars, the 8-string guitar, but not in its more usual form. In collaboration with the guitarist Paul Galbraith, an instrument using an asymmetric fingerboard and bridge, such as was used on the orpharion of the 17th century, was developed and christened the Brahms guitar.

The many and varied instruments made by David Rubio will, of course, remain as a testament to his creative energy and talent, and so will the many younger makers who were influenced by his ideas, inspired by his achievements, and encouraged by his example.

David Joseph Rubio died of cancer in his workshop on October 21, 2000. He is survived by Neste, and his daughter, Benita, from an earlier marriage.

Posted on

In Memoriam: José Ramírez IV

In Memoriam: José Ramírez IV

May 1953 — June 2000

by Tim Miklaucic

Originally published in American Lutherie #63, 2000 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013

I met José Ramírez IV for the first time in the early 1980s. He was thirty-two at the time, a man of average height with broad shoulders, a full beard, and thick fingers. Our first dialogue was about the size of the Ramírez guitars; I complained about the difficulty of playing them. The bearded Spaniard insisted that they had to be exactly as they were and that reducing the string length would diminish the sound. I remember he described the hands of Yamashita, showing me how small they were, and offered that as proof that playing a Ramírez was only a question of proper technique. That was how our personal relationship started more than fifteen years ago.

José Ramírez IV was born in 1953, the son of one of the greatest guitar makers of the 20th century, José Ramírez III. His father had built guitars for practically every accomplished guitarist of his generation, including Segovia, Parkening, and Bream. Ramírez IV grew up in a home where Segovia and his most respected students were both friends and clients of the family business. He knew that if he were ever to become a respected luthier, he would have to please the Maestro and those who followed him.

In 1971 he went to work in the Ramírez workshop at the age of eighteen. At first he worked as an apprentice, but in 1977, he became the “oficial de 1a” — a title given to the most accomplished master craftsmen. In 1979, several guitars were brought to Andrés Segovia to choose the one he preferred. Unknown to Segovia, one of those instruments was made by the young José, and it was that guitar which he selected. The young maker was so elated that he dedicated it to the Maestro and added this to the label. (The instrument was recently sold to a collector for $50,000.)

Still, Ramírez IV believed that he had only succeeded in building the same instrument designed by his father and wondered how he could improve on it. Soon after, he began to consider how to make the instrument easier to play while preserving the quality of sound and the overall volume. In 1986, he produced a smaller instrument (C-86) which had a smaller scale length and a smaller body as well. The sound was charming, but didn’t have the same robust character as the original “1a” guitars. He still had some work to do.

The Ramírez workshop (l to r): Ricardo Sáenz, Marisa Sanzano, José Enrique Ramírez IV, Amalia Ramírez, Carmelo Llerena, Marcos Moyano (apprentice), Cayetano Álvarez (retired February 2000), and Fernando Morcuende. Photo courtesy of Amalia Ramírez.

In 1988, José IV and his sister Amalia took over the business from their father. Amalia had also been trained in guitar building along with her brother. She, too, had made superb instruments under the direction of her father, but also had strong business skills, which allowed José IV to concentrate on a revised construction of their concert model guitar. The same year at the Music Messe in Frankfurt, I visited José IV and Amalia. Once again, we discussed the smaller Ramírez design and shared ideas about the relationship between volume of the instrument, size of the box, and string length. It was also during this Music Messe that I met Ana, their trusted translator, who later became my wife.

“Pepe” and I had many differences of opinion over the years. In less than a few months time he offered me the exclusive distribution agreement in Taiwan and then angrily took it away when he discovered that my first guitar was going to pass through the USA on its way to the South China Sea. That was the other side of his absolute loyalty, both as a friend and in business. It was only after I became his exclusive distributor in the USA that I could fully appreciate this part of his character.

During the early ’90s, Pepe and Amalia were rethinking and rebuilding the business from an operation under their father’s direction making 1,000 guitars a year to today’s workshop making 120 guitars per year. This was no easy feat in a country where it is nearly impossible to downsize a company due to the strong social democratic labor laws. Somehow they did it, kept the business going, and continued to improve on the quality control of the instruments. In 1993, they moved the business back to a smaller workshop with only a few journeymen supervised by both Pepe and Amalia.

It is ironic that only now as the Ramírez distributor am I finally able to buy and sell the guitar I requested fifteen years earlier, and it is especially ironic that it was Pepe who produced it. This was, in my view, his most important achievement in guitar making. In 1991, he redesigned the Ramírez 1a concert model and introduced the Traditional and the Especial model. These two models resembled those of 1960s in sound and construction while utilizing the standard 650mm scale length and a full-size body. With this, he achieved exactly what he thought to be impossible in our first meeting.

José Ramírez IV died on June 5, 2000, survived by his wife, sister, and four children.

Posted on

Letter: Remembering José Rubio

Letter: Remembering José Rubio

by Keith Watson

Previously published in American Lutherie #79, 2004



Dear Sir or Madam,

AL#65 was recently passed on to me by Jack Spira of Melbourne, a builder of guitars and related instruments. For several years I had been attempting to find the whereabouts of David Spinks (aka José Rubio) in order to renew a friendship that we had in London in the mid-’50s. I had come to London from the north to study flamenco and wood carving and had started my classical guitar tuition in with Alexis Chesnicov. I then went to Paco Juanos who gave lessons in Hampstead at a coffee house called El Serrano. It was there I met David.

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

Review: Classic Gutiar Making by Arthur E. Overholtzer

Review: Classic Gutiar Making by Arthur E. Overholtzer

Reviewed by Robert S. Anderson

Originally published in Guild of American Luthiers Newsletter, Volume 2 #3, 1974



Classic Guitar Making
Arthur E. Overholtzer
$13.00
Published by: Lawrence A Brock
1929 Mangrove Ave.
Chico, California 95926

This book is a comprehensive work of the classic guitar. It is a large book, 8 1/2"×11" with over 300 pages, well illustrated, with more than 300 drawings and pictures. Beginning with the selection of the proper wood, to the application of a mirror-like finish, it is quite complete. It also tells how to do many things with different methods; by hand, with a router and jig, etc.

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.