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Elliptical Legacy

Elliptical Legacy

by James Condino and John Monteleone

Originally published in American Lutherie #109, 2012



Recently I had the good fortune to examine and draw the beautiful D’Aqusito mandolin in the collection of The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. While in the area, I visited several great guitar builders and got a chance to play dozens of fine D’Aquisto and D’Angelico instruments, most of them still in the trenches, gigging hard with the local fellows.

John Monteleone did the restoration and finish work on the mandolin for the museum, and I stopped by John’s place for a bit of laughter and to pick a few tunes. The shop is an icon of 20th century guitar building. The walls are lined with photos of famous people and their instruments, along with little glimpses of the history of our craft. The original iconic photograph of a young Jimmy D’Aquisto standing next to an older John D’Angelico outside the Kenmore Street shop hangs on the wall. There are amazing instruments in various stages of construction and repair, and his old upright bass is instantly accessible right next to the main workbench in case a nice old jazz standard comes up on the radio and the moment strikes him. John’s wonderful stories connected the soul and craft of the mandolin and guitar from his shop on Long Island, through the traditions of some of the greatest luthiers of all time, all the way back to the origins in Italy.

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D’Aquisto’s Wedge Bridge

D’Aquisto’s Wedge Bridge

by John Monteleone

Originally published in American Lutherie #113, 2013



James “Jimmy” D’Aquisto’s guitar design development falls into two epochs. The early period, beginning in 1965, is an obvious continuation of his teacher John D’Angelico’s instruments in nearly every aspect, with the exception of the D’Aquisto logo on the headstock. Jimmy’s clients were faithful to D’Angelico, and that’s exactly what they expected. Change would come gradually, even timidly, over a period of time as Jimmy learned his independence. Certain ideas about tradition and expectation expressed by his early clients stood in his way for a number of years, hindering his design development.

In the 1950s and ’60s, archtop guitar players were not risktakers, and the market popularity of the archtop was being displaced by solidbody guitars and the new music of the day. Unlike the quick-changing shiny sheet metal of Detroit automobiles, annual adjustments to mainstream guitar designs for the annual trade shows were small and predicable. The few independent luthiers of the day would watch this market closely to see what they would need to offer in order to compete.

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Letter: Learning From D’Aquisto and Maccaferri

Letter: Learning From D’Aquisto and Maccaferri

by John Monteleone

Originally published in American Lutherie #63, 2000



Tim –

My earliest influence must have been my father, a Renaissance man before I understood what the term meant. He was a classically-trained sculptor, a trade which was falling out of favor by the 1950s, when he had to support and raise four children. His resourcefulness led him to run his own pattern making company.

As a little kid I watched him for hours on end as he worked in clay and plaster. I paid close attention to his hands. I was tuned in to people’s hands at a young age. I couldn’t help but notice what creative hands were capable of doing. Some of my dad’s friends were also artists, so I was in this interesting atmosphere of paint, clay, glass, ceramics, pottery, and sculpture. And then I learned the craft of pattern making in my father’s shop. I soaked up everything like a camera and a sponge.

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Questions: Info on D’Angelico

Questions: Info on D'Angelico

by Linda Manzer and John Monteleone

Originally published in American Lutherie #96, 2008



John Langdon from the Internet asks:

I’m quite obsessed with D’Angelico and D’Aquisto guitars, and there are not many sources of info besides the GAL and the wonderful book Paul Schmidt wrote. Would you happen to know the maker of those elusive violin maker’s planes James D’Aquisto had? In one of the GAL books he said they were made by a company in Boston. Do you know if John D’Angelico used a jointer or a hand plane to join his plates? I’m also trying to find out more about the nitrocellulose finish D’Aquisto used. I’m curious if his finishes were alcohol based or not. Do you know if he had any preference for any specific brand of finish or colors?


Linda Manzer from Toronto, Canada responds:

I used the hand planes in question when I worked in D’Aquisto’s shop in 1983. I made copies of those planes for myself and sold a limited number of them a few years back as well. I plan to resume making them in the near future. They are fantastic.

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Side Soundports

There’s a Hole in the Bucket

by Cyndy Burton

A Discussion of Sideports, with Contributions from Kenny Hill, Alan Carruth, Roger Thurman, John Monteleone, Mike Doolin, and Robert Ruck

previously published in American Lutherie #91, 2007

See also,
Sidewaysby John Monteleone
“Herr Helmholtz’ Tube” by Mike Doolin
“Three Holes are Better than One” Robert Ruck



Just in case we become too self-satisfied with our “discovery” of ports, Alain Bieber, in his article on lyra guitars (AL#88, p. 16), points us to the Neapolitan Gennaro Fabricatore’s ported lyras from the early 1800s. (Alain ported his own contemporary lyra guitar, too.) So we know prominent makers were putting holes in the sides of their instruments in the late 1700s, early 1800s. Many of us are also aware of Carleen Hutchins’ groundwork in the early 1980s. Her “Le Greyère” violin, with sixty-five sideports, has provided a wealth of data about violin resonances since it was made in 1982. She donated the violin to the National Music Museum in 2002. See some great photos of Le Greyère and a list of publications reporting on that research at collections.nmmusd.org/Archives/NewViolinFamily/Hutchinscheeseviolin.html.

People are sensitive about putting holes in things. Many guitarists — perhaps more classical guitarists than others — find the ports some sort of denigration, a violation of the sanctity of the guitar’s perfect form. In all fairness, we’ve met with very strong feelings on both sides of the port issue. Luckily, our customer was very open to the idea. He’s not a concertizing musician, but he’s a serious player, and occasionally he plays publicly for special events. We wanted to try ports for him because he has a hearing loss, and we thought ports would be a great way for him to hear himself better. At that time, Robert Ruck had made about a hundred ported guitars, so we figured he had worked out the kinks. He kindly advised us on size, location, and so on. We followed his lead. The result is a wonderful instrument that the owner truly appreciates. We love the feedback — the monitor effect for the player — and when we tested it in a small auditorium with an overflowing audience, we could not discern any loss of projection or quality of sound. But was it louder? Our evidence was very meager and inconclusive. Many makers are adamant that it’s louder with the ports open for both the player and the audience.

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