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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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In Memoriam: Irving Sloane

In Memoriam: Irving Sloane

April 27, 1925 — June 21, 1998

by Roger Sadowsky

Originally published in American Lutherie #55, 1998 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume Five, 2008

Irving Sloane, noted author on the art of lutherie, passed away on June 21, 1998 following a three-year battle with renal cell cancer. He is survived by his wife, Zelda Sloane, his children Roy, Linda, and David, and four grandchildren. I had the pleasure to know Irving for fifteen years and would like to share some of those memories.

I first discovered Classical Guitar Construction by Irving Sloane in the Whole Earth Catalog back in 1971. I was a graduate student in psychobiology and my interest in guitars was beginning to exceed my interest in graduate school. I remember the page in the Whole Earth Catalog that contained information on Irving’s book, H.L. Wild on East 11th Street in Manhattan as a source for guitar woods, and a section on Gurian Guitars who’s label read “Built on the third planet from the sun.” I can remember reading and rereading that page in the catalog at every free moment I had.

Photo courtesy of Roger Sadowsky.

Reading Classical Guitar Construction was like entering a new world for me. I can vividly recall the pictures of Irving planing his wood to thickness, boiling his sides in a galvanized pan and bending them over his bending form, joining the top and back, etc., etc. I read the book over and over until every detail and specification was committed to memory, including his list of sources at the back. This book was soon followed by Guitar Repair which transported me to the repair department at the Martin factory and unlocked many “trade secrets.” Next came Steel String Guitar Construction which, in spite of a rather bizarre neck joint, still provided a virtual gold mine of information and provided one of the few documented visits to Jimmy D’Aquisto’s shop.

These three books provided me with all of the published information available on guitar making and guitar repair to be had at the time. They were the “Rosetta stones” of guitar making — the only key to unlock the mystery of a craft on which almost no printed information existed. The knowledge extracted from these volumes launched me on what is now a twenty-six-year career.

In 1981, I met my wife, Robin Phillips. On one of her earliest visits to my shop, she spied Irving’s books on my shelf and said, “I know him — he was my neighbor when I grew up in Ridgewood, New Jersey.” She told me stories of watching Irving build his guitars in the basement and of Irving serenading her on the front porch. Robin’s mother Zelda worked at the Ridgewood Public Library and Irving paid a visit to his hometown around 1983 and dropped in to say hello (he was living in Brussels at the time). She told Irving that Robin had married a guitar maker, and Irv called us up and met us one day in Manhattan. It was a pleasure to meet him and he autographed my copy of Classical Guitar Construction.

We heard from Irving the following year. He was moving back to the States and was going to live full-time in a small country house he always had in Millerton, NY. He had designed a new premium-quality tuning machine for classical guitar and had patented the design. He was hand making them for a small number of builders and hoped to increase production as his primary source of income. The gears had the smoothest and most positive mechanism I had ever felt and were much less expensive than Rodgers, the only other quality gear available.

Irving had invited Robin and me to come up to the country for a weekend and we had a very nice visit with him. He told wonderful stories of the guitar makers and musicians he had known but his closest relationship was with Bouchet during the years he lived in Brussels. He was also very good friends with the Assad brothers. I also learned a lot about his past. He grew up an orphan on the Lower East Side (10th St.). He spent many years and traveled the world in the Merchant Marines. His primary occupation was as a designer and he worked in the advertising industry, designing product packaging and record album covers. He taught himself metalworking and jewelry making. He designed and made woodworking tools, especially planes, which he sold under the IBEX brand. He was a writer, and in addition to his lutherie books, he had written and published a children’s book titled The Silver Cart.

Robin and I encouraged Irving to take her mom Zelda out to dinner. They fell in love like a couple of teenagers and married the next year. There was an incredible amount of “small world” coincidence to realize I had as a father-in-law the man who was responsible for my career path.

Irving was a true renaissance man. There seemed to be no limit to the things he could do. He made magnificent fish prints on exquisite paper, did his own catalog-quality photography of his tools, made beautiful jewelry, built a new deck for his home, and played guitar and piano. But perhaps his best skill was his ability to make molds. He was self-taught in this art, but it was the mold making that permitted him to make his fine planes, tools, and the beautiful plates for the classical guitar tuning machines.

After failing to find competent workers to produce the tuning gears in his local area, he licensed the gears to Stewart-MacDonald, who now manufacture them at their Waverly shop in Montana. Irving travelled to Bozeman to set up the assembly and train the workers. Waverly then began to produce a variety of steel string guitar tuning gears utilizing Irving’s patented design. Irving had also designed the finest gear available for upright bass. David Gage, ace acoustic-bass guru of New York City, has taken over the assembly and distribution of the bass gear. Most of the other tools are distributed by Bob Juzak of Metropolitan Music in Vermont. Some of his best-known tools are his violin finger planes, bridge clamp, fretting rule, bending iron, rosette cutter, thickness gauge, and crack-splicing set.

We are now in the golden age of guitar making. All of us who are in our forties or fifties have been perfecting our craft for the last twenty or thirty years and are just starting to get pretty good at what we do. As I look back over the last twenty years or so, it seems to me that every interview I have read with any guitar maker or repair person contains a line something like “The first book I ever read was Irving Sloane’s Classical Guitar Construction.” We will always be indebted to Irving Sloane for changing our lives forever.

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Violin Q & A: Violin by John Ericson

Violin Q & A: Violin by John Ericson

by George Manno

Originally published in American Lutherie #10, 1987 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume One, 2000

 

We have an old violin that just came into our shop. It is handmade and has a label that states it was made by John Ericson, Hammond, Indiana, in 1929. We cannot find this maker’s name listed in any of our reference books. We have Henley’s & Woodcock’s. Since you live in the Midwest, do you know of such a maker?

Thomas Wenberg’s book, entitled The Violin Makers of the United States, lists the aforementioned maker on page 93. He was born in 1893 in Sweden, and trained with Walter Goss in Boston. Over 400 instruments bear his label. A dealer in New York told me that he recently sold a viola made by Mr. Ericson for $9,500. He died in 1975. Also, I knew Mr. Ericson personally. The instrument should be branded “ERICSON” on the back of the scroll.

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Violin Q & A: Fiddle Fakes by Tetto Gallo

Violin Q & A: Fiddle Fakes by Tetto Gallo

by George Manno

Originally published in American Lutherie #11, 1987 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie Volume One, 2000

 

We have inherited what we believe to be an old Italian violin. Inside the instrument is a paper label that reads “LORENZO BUONARROTI-ROMA-1883.” We have taken the violin and shown it to a few dealers, but none of them have ever heard of this maker. The dealers all agree that it is of Italian origin, but that’s all they would tell us.

There is a very good chance that the instrument you have inherited, labeled “BUONARROTI,” is the work of Tetto Gallo (1901–1976) of Cedar Lake, Indiana. From the late ’30s up until 1953 Gallo imported many violins in the white (unvarnished) from Italy. He would antique these instruments (make them look older than they were) by using acids and dyes. He then varnished them either with a golden brown or a red brown thin oil varnish. Knowing that he could not fool an expert if he labeled the instruments with a well-known maker’s name, Gallo used names he made up. The name Buonarroti was the surname of the famous sixteenth century Italian artist, Michaelangelo. The instrument you have should be signed, “T. GALLO/year” on the underside of the top. The next time you show your instrument to a dealer have him/her take a look inside with a mirror.

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In Memoriam: François Pistorius

In Memoriam: François Pistorius

November 10, 1969 – June 23, 2002

by Rodney Stedall, Stuart Deutsch, Larry Baeder, and Anne Ludwig

Originally published in American Lutherie #73, 2003 and Big Red Book of American Lutherie, Volume Seven, 2005

Born in Pretoria, South Africa, François Pistorius spent his childhood in the town of Bethlehem in the Eastern Free State. He attended high school in Pretoria and was interested in the creative arts, including pottery and sculpture.

François started playing guitar at fourteen. After military training, he and his older brother traveled in Europe for a few years, and when he got to Galway, Ireland, he fell in love with the musical culture and the people. He stayed for four years, apprenticing with luthier Paul Doyle. He returned to South Africa and started his own shop at his farm called Kayuta, twenty kilometers east of Pretoria. He was also the leader of a band called Baraka, which played Afro-Celtic music.

François was a perfectionist. He worked on his own to produce a few detailed, high-quality instruments. His designs were innovative and his instruments were far from typical. He was confident in his abilities (in an unassuming, nonarrogant way) and did not rate himself second to any other luthier in the world.

François Pistorius died tragically in a motor car accident. I have fond memories of visiting him on Lynnwood Road and how much he taught me in the short period I knew him. I will always remember him for his unconventional and original approach, and for the fine instruments he crafted. I can still see him tapping his foot to those Celtic rhythms.

— Rodney Stedall

 

I thought the world of Fran’s instruments and was certain that he would be one of the great luthiers of this century. Now all I have to remember him by is a 000, an archtop, and a 12-string.

I met Fran while doing sound for a documentary in Jo’burg and Cape Town. His friend Gideon worked with me as an assistant cameraman. When he heard that I collected and played guitars, we were introduced. I bought a small flattop, which quickly became my favorite instrument, then ordered a 12-string, an archtop, a classic, and a dreadnought. Unfortunately, the very day that the director of the film, Lee Hirsch, was to meet Fran and bring the last two instruments to me, fate stepped in.

It’s sad that he’s gone so soon; I had been working on creating a market in the U.S. for him. His instruments blew away anything in my collection, and I have a 1936 D’Angelico archtop and 1920s and 1940s Martins and Gibsons to compare them to.

— Stuart Deutsch

Both photos courtesy of Rodney Stedall.

I will never own one of François’ instruments, and for that I will forever be at a loss. I did not meet him, but on the phone he was articulate, insightful, and gracious. I did, however, play several of his instruments and knew that I had to have one. They are truly remarkable in every way. The line between art and craftsmanship is fine and difficult to tread. To produce something practical, superbly made, and with a higher aesthetic is to create something for the ages. François has left us with far too few instruments, but no doubt, they are for the ages.

— Larry Baeder

 

One of the highlights of my time with Guitar Talk was the article that I did on François Pistorius. His workshop was amazing and very organized. He tapped some wood for me so I could hear the difference between a good piece and one that would not perhaps make such a good guitar. His life story was fascinating to hear while I saw the many different instruments in his workshop. I was fortunate to hear his band rehearsing at his cottage in the country east of Pretoria, and also hear him play his double-neck guitar/bouzouki at a Tárrega club meeting. I was very impressed with his music, which was mainly Celtic in style. I feel very fortunate to have met him. Having known him, even very briefly, has added more color to my life. In the words of his friend Irma Wouters, “He’s making harps for the angels now.”

— Anne Ludwig