Recently, thanks to my friend James Westbrook, I had the opportunity of examining the log book from the archive material of extraordinary English
luthier, David
Rubio.
The rather grand front of this book is shown above, complete with an unused
Rubio rossette. Log book is perhaps not the right title for this document; it is part diary, part note book, part order book. Initially, when I opened this, I was hoping for workbench notes on instruments made or examined, but there was little of this. However, this proved to be a document that inspired, educated and moved me.
David
Rubio started building guitars in New York in the early 1960s. A career in medicine had been the intention but colour blindness prevented this.
Rubio's skill as a flamenco guitarist brought him into contact with guitars and guitarists, and it was almost inevitable that his interest in making musical instruments grew.
Looking at the beginning of this log book you can see the origins of
Rubio's business. Most of his clients at this time were local to New York, perhaps familiar faces to
Rubio from his days as a professional guitaris? He also took in repairs; Domingo
Esteso is mentioned, and he must have learned much from these instruments. It is quite
apparent that David
Rubio's reputation and
workload gathered pace
rapidly. The pages of this book fill as the 1960s
progress and some
familiar names start to appear.
One of the most important names to appear in these pages is that of Julian Bream. The support of Bream must have been important to
Rubio, but Bream was also very lucky to find a maker of
Rubio's caliber, and to have guitars and lutes made for him. It is easy to imagine
Rubio and Bream at the Greenwich Village workshop,
discussing instruments and pinning down the details of Bream's next commission. The image is added to by a small technical sketch on one of the pages. It is a detail of a lute by Thomas Goff, and it seems likely that this was Bream's lute that Goff made for him.
Tucked into the log book are some random documents such as a business card, pictured above, with the Duns
Tew address. There are some receipts for wood from Andreas
Gleissner (my first batch of 50 spruce tops came from
Gleissner) and a fabulous letter from an American client arranging to pick up a guitar from
Rubio after his relocation to England. The happy recipient of the guitar insists that he will take David and his wife for a celebratory meal at a restaurant of their choice.
There is much to be enjoyed in this notebook, and it really has fired me up in all sorts of ways. Last year I heard Paul Fischer at the
Cordefactum guitar festival in Belgium,
lecturing on
Rubio and this notebook adds to my knowledge of a guitar maker I have long admired. One thing that is clear is that
Rubio was an
incredibly hard worker and I have heard that often meals would be taken into the workshop and eaten at the bench while he worked. His passionate
curiosity turned him towards early instruments,
violins and keyboard instruments. He really had
extraordinary talents.
Above all else, this log tells part of the story of a man's passion, of his
career and his contribution to musical
instrument making. I had the good fortune to meet David
Rubio, albeit briefly. I was a student at the
London Collage of Furniture and on one occasion David and his wife visited the musical
instrument making department and had a look around the workshop. I seem to
remember that he recommended we should buy a
rather expensive
German vice, although that was beyond
our reach at that time. Since then I have worked on a number of
Rubio guitars and my opinion of him grows - a man of real
substance and a fine luthier.
So now this guitar is ready for polishing (in fact I have already put the first coat on) and the Amazon rosewood is already beginning to look rather lovely. About a week a go fellow guitar maker Michael Gee phoned and one of the things we talked about was French polish. Michael is a fabulous maker who I was lucky enough to be taught by many years ago. I refer to polishing as a black art, and it really is one of those aspects of guitar making that can have you pulling your hair out on occasions. I recently heard someone say that you never properly finish French polishing a guitar;there just comes a point where you give up!
Johns guitar is now ready for filling and polishing and these few pictures show the guitar as it was on the bench at the end of last week. I always enjoy fretting and since I have acquired this soft faced hammer I am even happier. The picture above shows the last few frets being installed. The metal block in the picture is held under the fingerboard whilst the upper frets are being tapped in and helps to prevent the soundboard splitting. Regular followers of this site will know that Johns guitar has featured more than any other guitar I am making at the moment. This is due to the fact that John is on the other side of the globe and so must share in the making of his guitar by digital means!
Here is an earlier picture of the fingerboard being glued and clamped, and below is the fingerboard prior to clamping. The masking tape on the soundboard keeps the excess glue in check. The next post will show the completed guitar awaiting polish...
I think the fact that I have only just been able to post a Happy New Year message is pretty much indicative as to how busy the past few weeks have been, and at the moment it very much looks as though 2011 is going to proceed in a similar fashion.
With the main body of John's guitar together, it has been time to move onto the purfling and binding. The picture above shows all the strips laid out on the bench. The cocobolo bindings are all cut from the same board and are in sequence, so the grain follows from one to another. It is a small detail that is missed by many, but gives me a quiet satisfaction.
The channel for the purfling is cut first and the veneer strips are glued in and held in place with pins. Then the second channel for the binding is cut and the binding is bent and fitted. I like to use cloth tape to hold the binding in place whilst gluing; it is one of those tasks that gives me great pleasure to complete.
The picture below shows the binding glued in place. The next job here is to scrape it flush with the top and rib. In this picture you can see the finely marked Amazon rosewood. and the detail in the cocobolo.
Dating from the early part of the 20th century, this flat backed mandolin is not the most distinguished instrument I have had in recently, but has given me considerable pleasure to put back into playing condition. The picture above shows how much dirt accumulates over time. The original finish on the soundboard appeared to be a coat of sealer and wax, and then added to that were years of grime, more wax and DNA. Cleaning the soundboard is a very simple but enjoyable task; half an hour gently 'washing' the front revealed the aged spruce colour. In the picture I have just completed the first quarter and the contrast is clear.
