Posted on January 11, 2010February 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Lance McCollum In Memoriam: Lance McCollum March 1, 1958–February 1, 2009 by Harvey Leach Originally published in American Lutherie #98, 2009 We are members of one of the greatest fraternities on earth. Luthiers get to take nature’s greatest materials and reshape them into things of beauty and functionality. Our creations leave our mark on society because for each piece to reach fulfillment it must be passed into the hands of a second artist, the player. Lance McCollum was a builder of great guitars. Some of the players of his instruments include Roger Hodgson of Supertramp, Martin Barre of Jethro Tull, Winfield Champion Todd Hallawell, and Grammy winners Mark Mancina and Doug Smith. In his career Lance built approximately 250 guitars. Lance first visited my shop about fifteen years ago. With him he had his first two guitars. As is true with most of our early efforts, they were somewhat crude examples of what was to come. However, the maker’s talent was unmistakable. Some people build guitars to try to recreate the past. Others, like Lance, try to expand the boundaries and push the limits of what has been done in the past while still keeping the traditional look and feel of a great guitar. Photo by Kayleigh McCollum. Lance’s specialty was in the creation of guitars that had “piano-like” tone. He was also well known for his more unusual pieces such as baritone, harp, and double-neck guitars. His “interwoven” rosettes were simple yet elegant and became his trademark. Lance could always be counted on if you needed a source for something, be it great guitar wood or a great restaurant. Lance was a “people person,” a fact that was never more evident than at a benefit concert a month after he passed away. It showed in the level of talent that came to pay tribute, and in the people who came to watch. Like all of us, his days were numbered. But like those of us who choose this profession, his work will live on and only get better with age.
Posted on January 11, 2010February 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips 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 January 11, 2010February 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Frederick Thomas Dickens In Memoriam: Frederick Thomas Dickens 1935 – 2000 by Pauline Dickens, James Jones, and Graham Caldersmith Originally published in American #71, 2002 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013 Frederick Thomas Dickens was born January 10, 1935 in Bogalusa, Louisiana, and died November 8, 2000 in Lynchburg, Virginia. He served in the Navy and attended Southwestern Louisiana Institute (now USL) in Lafayette, Louisiana, where he graduated with a degree in physics. He went to work for Western Electric at Bell Laboratories in Whippany, New Jersey, in 1960, then worked for AT&T/Bell Labs from 1962 until his retirement in 1987. He was married and had two children. From early childhood Fred was always taking things apart and rebuilding them: crystal sets, model airplanes and boats, small engines, large engines, bicycles, motorbikes, air rifles, most anything that had plenty of parts. In later years, he continued to take things apart and reassemble them or build new and improved ones. His crystal set was replaced by powerful shortwave radios, the model airplanes and boats got larger and more sophisticated, the small engines became single-cylinder miniature hit-and-miss ones. The large engines were built to fit into the motorcycle frames that he constructed and competed on in observed trials. The air rifles became more powerful and accurate, and Fred built all parts on his lathe and milling machine, even to checkering the stocks. His latest pistol was used to shoot uncooked pasta at carpenter bees feeding on the house. The bicycle evolved into an elaborate recumbent design that he was working on when he died. While at Bell Labs he worked in the Power Supply Department building power supplies for the transatlantic cable. His power supplies were also found in many of AT&T’s telephones. He received the Distinguished Technical Staff Award for Sustained Achievement in 1984. He first got interested in instrument building in 1966 when he built his first guitar. He took apart an old guitar he had purchased in Mexico when he was twelve to study the construction. He began keeping detailed records with guitar #15 in 1968, using red cedar for the top. Ever the stickler for words, he wrote, “The cedar will be called ‘Egyptian Dragoon Brown Spruce’ from the Aswan Dam Preserve.” He began making his fretboards out of black phenol fiber because he felt that the phenol was more stable than ebony. He began making his own rosettes in 1969. He also constructed a banjo in that year. The part of guitar construction that he enjoyed most was carving the neck, especially the heel. One of my fondest memories is of watching him as he worked on the mahogany to create a beautiful sculpture, which he would decorate with a beautifully finished, singing body. In 1975 Fred began a series of experiments (which he would continue until his death) to make “various acoustic measurements on the guitar and its parts.” The object of the experiments was “to determine the response vs. frequency of the instrument and its various parts in an effort to set the various resonances at their ideal positions.” Using a special sound room which he built, he did experiments to: determine the effect of the height of the sides of a standard classical guitar on air resonance frequency; test different strutting patterns on the backs and tops of guitars including Cartesian, circular, lattice, traditional, and X bracing; study the effect of soundposts in guitars; chart the air modes of his and others’ guitars; study the relationship between the Helmholtz resonance and volume; and test a new bridge design using graphite-reinforced epoxy which he called his “magic bridge.” In 1977 Fred attended the 9th International Conference on Acoustics in Madrid where he presented a paper, “Tuning the Eigenmodes of Free Violin and Guitar Plates by Chladni Patterns” with Carleen Hutchins. He wrote for the CAS Newsletter but refused to submit articles unless he was 100% certain of the data. He also gave lectures at local colleges in New Jersey. In his lifetime Fred built ninety-four classical guitars, four steel string guitars, a flamenco guitar, a banjo, and a harpsichord soundboard. Trying to understand plate tuning in the guitar was his life’s goal. — Pauline Dickens Fred Dickens at the 1992 GAL Convention after attending the free plate tuning demonstration by Carleen Hutchins. Photo by Dale Blindheim. Although an excellent craftsman, Fred viewed instrument making (or the making of anything else for that matter) as a vehicle to understanding the science and principles behind the result. He constantly strove to understand the physics, and the nature of materials and their interaction. The search was always more important than the product, although the guitar was most often the chosen teacher. As a result, Fred was the work in progress. Understanding the universe was his goal. Fred had little tolerance for ignorance masquerading as knowledge. Half-baked theories were always exposed to the light of his more rigorous testing. I was very fortunate to make Fred’s acquaintance shortly after he and his wife moved to Virginia. Our mutual interest in instrument making and his willingness to teach some of those scientific principles I had neglected to consider contributed to a friendship now sorely missed. Fred’s gift was his willingness to patiently share what he had learned with those willing to listen. I only wish more makers would have had the opportunity to learn from his experience and example. — James Jones When I began music acoustics research in 1970 I was intrigued by articles written by Fred T. Dickens, which combined an honest, homey style with advanced ideas on guitar behavior. I began writing to Fred, and in 1982 during a research tour of the USA, we stayed some days with Fred and Pauline. Their company was relaxing and humanizing after intense work and travel. We shared notions of guitars and violin physics, methods of working advanced instruments, the nature of those involved in such a rare field of endeavor, and the big questions: life, the universe, and everything. We ate and drank with Fred and Pauline and became friends. Fred was an honest, practical man. His work at the Bell Laboratories was respected because of his integrity with results. He was meticulous in research and true with his friends. His marriage to Pauline was caring and creative, and their love for each other was unmistakable. I admire them both and wish Pauline comfort and peace in her loss of a wonderful husband. — Graham Caldersmith
Posted on January 11, 2010February 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: George Majkowski In Memoriam: George Majkowski 1929 – 2002 by Jay Hargreaves Originally published in American Lutherie #72, 2002 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Six, 2013 It saddens me to inform you of the passing of my good friend, colleague, and mentor, George Majkowski, on August 5th, 2002. Due to complications from treatments he was receiving for kidney disease, he succumbed to an infection that quickly overcame his already weakened heart. He died peacefully with family at his side. George was born in Poland. While in his teens during World War II, he was captured by the Germans and sent to a labor camp. Upon liberation by American troops, he was adopted by them and learned to speak English in three months. He then went to France, quickly learned the language, and was hired as an interpreter. He also worked repairing electrical motors. He enjoyed visiting the cabarets and hearing Django play. Guitar music became one of his joys in life. He immigrated to the U.S. during the Korean War and was drafted into the army. After the war he was given U.S. citizenship. He began his career at IBM and soon became involved in the installation of mainframe computers throughout the world. His reputation as a brilliant troubleshooter gained him the nickname “Magic.” It was during his travels for IBM that he met his lovely wife, Anna. Photo by Jay Hargreaves Always with him was his guitar. He studied flamenco and would play semiprofessionally, backing singers and dancers. After he retired from IBM, he turned his attention to building harpsichords and guitars. He attended Richard Schneider’s Lost Mountain Seminar for the Guitar in 1991, and built his first Kasha guitar within a year’s time. George became one of Richard’s assistants, bringing with him new ideas in construction and jig design. After Richard passed away in 1997, George was instrumental in a project which involved building ten guitars in tribute to Richard. George and I worked closely together, completing the last three of Richard’s commissioned guitars. When his health prevented him from being at his workbench, he continued to provide ideas and insight into his love of guitar making. George ol’ buddy, you’ll be missed.
Posted on January 10, 2010February 7, 2024 by Dale Phillips In Memoriam: Rob Girdis In Memoriam: Rob Girdis 1953 – 2009 by Rick Davis Originally published in American Lutherie #99, 2009 When Rob Girdis passed away the Lutherie community lost one of its most talented members. Rob learned the elements of his craft from Anthony Huvard in 1978–1979, staying on at Huvard’s Northwest School of Instrument Design for a second year as teaching assistant. He began his independent guitar making in 1981 and continued building custom instruments until his death. His guitars were notable for their perfection of detail and for Rob’s artistry in color and form. Rob never took the easy way — plates were thicknessed with hand planes, inlays were individually cut, and the materials for each commission were thoughtfully chosen. Each of his instrument stands as testament to his skill. Photo by Collicott Photo Illustration. He also left a circle of students who unanimously praise Rob for his patience and grace as a teacher, gently urging beginners in the art of sharp tools and critical eyes. Though he was a quiet, private person, he impressed his peers at guitar shows and lutherie meetings with his dry sense of humor and reflective approach. Rob was also an accomplished musician, enlivening music camps, sessions, and parties with his fine rhythm backup and occasional fiddle. More information about Rob and testimonials from some of his many friends can be found at www.girdisguitars.com.