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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

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Letter: Passing of Hart Huttig

Letter: Passing of Hart Huttig

by Tom Peterson

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



Dear Tim and gang,

I came into contact with Hart Huttig through Charles Fox when I attended his guitar making school in 1976. I can still see those typed price lists of Allied Traders of Miami with the freighter or the Casa fundada en 1792 crest in the upper right corner.

In ’76 or ’77 I went to see him at his daughter’s house south of San Francisco. I sought the advice of a winemaker friend on the best bottle of sherry, and headed off. I soon learned that I needn’t have worried about bribing him or ingratiating myself in order to pick his brain, for his warmth and generosity were immediately evident as we spent a delightful afternoon bantering about everything from Maccaferris to Martins while he kept his family waiting for him to come to dinner.

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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.

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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.

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In Memoriam: David Minnieweather

In Memoriam: David Minnieweather

1964 – 2009

by Veronica Merryfield, and David King

Originally published in American Lutherie #100, 2009

David’s life’s passion was bass, both as a maker and an accomplished player — although he would say he just noodled. He started making bass guitars at middle school where his teacher instilled the concept of starting with a centerline, and of not building until it looked right on paper. David was largely self-taught, learning bit by bit from others’ advise and his own work.

His basses were liked and respected by luthiers and players, ensuring his popularity at his regular NAMM appearances.

“Thoughtful,” “genuinely complimentary,” “he smiled with his whole body,” “kind, well spoken, the kind of dude you could connect with immediately,” “an amazing person,” “a huge influence,” “a true gentleman,” are just a few of the comments made by players and makers. Whether you met him once, many times, or only on-line, he left a profound impression.

I am going miss our get-togethers, where all things bass would be talked over, design ideas discussed and pulled apart, what players wanted and didn’t, why things worked or not. He was an inspiration, encouraging trial and experimentation. I am forever indebted and thankful for this, and will noodle as he directed.

David, may your soul be truly at peace and noodling with the Great Maker.

— Veronica Merryfield

Photo by Jonathon Peterson.

I always marveled at David’s musical ability. He once told me how he tried to learn all of Stanley Clark’s seminal solo album by ear in the 8th grade by going to the music store everyday and playing on a Kramer bass. I was also amazed by David’s ability to hear an instrument or a pickup and tell me what it sounded like when compared to other instruments from the near or distant past, where it excelled or was lacking. He had an instinctive understanding of how it would “sit in the mix.” His ability to listen extended to his many deep friendships. Always a quiet person, David would let an initial bluster in an often one-sided conversation blow over, but then redouble his concentration when you were finally getting around to the meat of your thesis. Our wide-ranging conversations were always punctuated with laughter no matter how dark the subject.

As a luthier, David had a knack for finding extraordinary pieces of wood and melding them into something gorgeous. He loved fine details, frequently becoming so engrossed in his work that the passage of time was lost. He called one morning saying that he’d been up all night sanding the edge of a body. At dawn he realized that he’d removed more than a 1/4" of wood all the way around, but he was finally pleased with the results. When I suggested that he trace the shape and alter his template, he implied that it was only this particular instrument that had needed that quantity of sanding.

David did most of his jointing and surfacing with a hand-held router, and the results rivaled the best that I’ve seen. His glue lines were immaculate, and his finishes were as flat and optically perfect as any that I have seen.

David’s passion and his friendship enveloped and inspired me. For this I’ll be eternally grateful.

— David King