S. Nathaniel Adams

Documenting history as well as my experiences with repairing and restoring vintage guitars.

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Ignore the three wooden clamps "Manufactured by The Chicago Music Co Platt P Gibbs. Pres 195 & 197 Wabash Ave. Cor Adams Chicago, I...


Ignore the three wooden clamps
"Manufactured by The Chicago Music Co
Platt P Gibbs. Pres
195 & 197 Wabash Ave. Cor Adams
Chicago, Ill"

This label appears inside a guitar that I was hired to work on, the neck was detached and I was to put the neck back on and adjust the angle so the instrument could play again. I had never heard of this firm before.

About

The Chicago Music Company was headed by Platt P Gibbs serving as the President, Treasurer, Manager, and Director (an extensive list of accolades) with M. E. Gibbs as the Vice-President and Director and Herbert P Gibbs as the Secretary and Director [1]. The earliest reference to the Chicago Music Co that I could find dates to 1878 advertising tickets to a preacher giving a lecture. Their address was 152 State Street [2].

An 1888 advertisement mentions the sale of Steinway pianos at their location at 148 and 150 Wabash Avenue.

Image Credit: Newspapers.com

An 1896 listing in the Chicago city directory places the company at the corner of Wabash and Adams.
Image Credit: Google Books

The first mention of guitars comes in 1897 where they are offering a closing sale before moving, the address listed does match the above guitar's label.

Image Credit: Newspapers.com

Another advertisement from that same year 
Image Credit: Newspapers.com

Jumping forward a couple years, in 1902 an advertisement for discount musical instruments indicates that the Chicago Music Co had gone bankrupt and their assets sold to wholesalers at half price.

Image Credit: Newspapers.com


However, a 1906 report by the Illinois. Office of Inspector of Factories and Workshops indicates that they are still operating at 251 Wabash Avenue and are a music store. 


Guitars

I worked on one of these guitars and it had the tiniest neck joint I had ever seen. Unsurprisingly, the guitar came to me with the neck detached. 


Sources

[1] https://www.google.com/books/edition/_/NWvZAAAAMAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&pg=PA89&dq=%22chicago+music+co%22
[2] https://www.newspapers.com/image/32582508/?match=1&terms=%22chicago%20music%20co%22%20%22platt%22
[3] https://www.newspapers.com/image/668140109/?match=1&terms=%22chicago%20music%20co%22%20%22platt%22

  Image Credit:  Ebay - Ruby and Rad Vintage I saw this incredible photograph on Ebay of a luthier in his workshop with one completed instru...

 
Image Credit: Ebay - Ruby and Rad Vintage

I saw this incredible photograph on Ebay of a luthier in his workshop with one completed instrument, numerous in-progress instruments, and a small collection of tools. I did not win the auction but I decided to embark on researching the origins of this photograph to give this man his identity back.

The Photo

I thoroughly enjoy old photos of craftsmen at their benches, I find a lot of inspiration for my own workbench layout as well as excuses to buy old tools just because I see them in these photos. I do wonder about what his day was like and whether he ever had an apprentice or a helper or he alone was responsible for building.


The first thing that caught my eye was the Windsor-style chair on the right side of the photo. Its relevant to absolutely nothing but I grew up with modern reproductions of this chair at our dinner table so it stands out as being something I can immediately identify with. We can see two boards, about as long as his bench is tall, leaned up against the wall and with fairly non-descript grain. I would wager that these are neck blanks or perhaps spruce for braces and three or four piece tops (which were more acceptable back then). I find it interesting that he attached boards to block off that end of the workbench.


On top of his bench, I don't see a 'tool well' that you might find with classical workbenches rather it appears to be simply a flat board. To his right we can see two necks in progress and the headstock of a third neck or perhaps a template leaning against the wall. He appears to be working in front of a mirror which I imagine has helpful properties in ensuring his work is illuminated from all angles. To his right is a shelf with foliage printed wallpaper or fabric hanging off and a box and glass bottle on top. I would guess that might be his alcohol or oil for french polishing.


The bench, itself, is interesting to me not only because the apron appears to be a single board, at least 15-18" wide, with continuous grain and visible sap wood at the top. You don't find trees like that anymore. He's gone ahead and built himself a large drawer (what I wouldn't give to see what's inside there...) with cast metal pulls. He includes a cut out in the apron to access a shelf filled with indiscernible objects and we can see his repurposed crates for storage. The bottom left looks like it says "Lump Starch" but I have no clue what that might mean. I can see a shape in that box which looks like a cut-off or a mold for a guitar body.

His leg-vise has a metal leadscrew as a nice improvement over the traditional solid wooden screws which would've been in use by generations before him. The board at the bottom with the staggered holes and peg prevents racking of the vise as you tighten it down on an object. 



Next to the craftsman's hand is another neck in a unique vise that I'm not familiar with. It also gives us our best look at his signature headstock shape, this would be the key to identifying any of his instruments. Back to the vise.. Its small, like a jeweler's vise, but the ones I'm familiar with usually have an integral clamp so you can attach it quickly to your work surface. This might be mounted underneath with a screw and nut or partially inlaid into the top. 



Here is where one can get real nerdy, real quick. Starting from the bottom, I now see that he is holding a rasp or file for the photograph. To the left of the neck is a hand plane laying on it's side and it appears to be a 'transitional' plane with a square wooden body and cast iron hardware for adjusting the blade. Handing on the wall is his bit brace for boring holes in the instruments. We also get a good view of one of his finished instruments with a pyramid bridge of ebony or rosewood, a distinctive cut-out at the end of his fingerboard, and fairly plain appointments on the top with a rosette and purfling.

Jumping up to the shelf and starting from the left, we can see three screw drivers leaning up against a tower of three boxes. Who know what treasures are in there. His draw knife is easily accessible hanging off the shelf and I believe I see a decorative molding cut into the bottom of the shelf. Above the draw knife is a metal block plane like you'd find today at the hardware store, the design hasn't changed a whole lot in a hundred years. I wonder if he bought a Union or a Stanley. To the right of that plane we see two more planes which are of an older, more traditional style. He has a 'coffin' plane sitting on top of another plane that looks to be two to two and a half times as long which should make that a 'jack' plane. The wooden style is adjusted with a mallet rather than the slick adjusters found on the plane sitting on his bench or the block plane on its side. Perhaps that's why these are sitting behind a row of six smaller objects and two circular objects. I suspect the small pieces to be violin-makers planes which are tiny planes held between your fingers for delicate work and graduating the top and back of a violin. I have no clue what the circles are.





On the wall we have a nice assortment of finished guitar boddies waiting for the craftsman to carve the necks. I counted three, maybe four, necks and six bodies waiting for assembly. That would explain why he still has a neck mounted in a vise. The bodies near the top have decorative strips running down the center of the back and end grafts on the sides while the bodies below appear more plain. It's quite difficult to discern any wood detail from a photo of this age but I would guess that these are mahogany, maple, or some other light-colored wood. They certainly aren't rosewood. We also see on the far right, behind his head, the handle of another saw. I would be this is his folded-back saw that he would use for precise cutting of his dovetails and fret slots.


Lastly we see the roughing tools for his stock prep. A large saw for ripping boards and a hatchet for hewing or splitting his spruce brace stock.

The Search

The back of the photograph has an ink stamp advertising "The Bowen Art Studio" at "46-1/2 North Meridian Street" in Anderson, Indiana. I wasn't familiar with Anderson but found that it lies between Indianapolis and Muncie, closer to Muncie, and is the seat of Madison County. As I was searching through old maps, it seems like a typical, small industrial city with a lot of people employed as general laborers. The population doubled from 10,000 in 1890 to 20,000 in 1900 so there was no shortage of new people looking to make their start.

This style of photograph which is affixed to a cardstock backer seems to be most popular in the late 1800s, I believe its called a cabinet card, and remained popular up until the introduction of personal cameras in the teens. As I've found in my previous research, the late 1880s saw a boom in small, local shops building guitars and mandolins for the newly emerging middle class. This lasted until the First World War when labor became difficult to come by and tuners and purfling from Europe became inaccessible. 

I located the photo studio in an 1890 Sanborn map of the city and found it was above a barber shop near the center of town. I scoured the map hoping for a building labelled as a manufacturer of musical instruments, I haven't seen it yet on one a small operation but I can dream. I found nothing.

Image Credit: Library of Congress - Sanborn Map c.1890

Anderson was not as easy to find specific information about as many of the other towns I've come across. Documents from these periods do exist but they are not as accessible online as I'm used to and without owning one of these guitars, I'm not quite ready to drive four and a half hours.

A Lead

After coming up blank on Ancestry and FamilySearch, I ended up getting a trial to MyHeritage which is another ancestry-mapping website with a slightly different set of historical documents. None of these websites expect you to be searching for anything other than names of people in certain places at certain times, they're geared towards you having an idea of who you are looking for. It becomes more difficult when you are searching by occupation or street address especially since they don't usually want you combing through the pages of their scanned books, they'd rather send you directly to a record for a person. Ancestry is the easiest to navigate, MyHeritage was a little trickier.

In the 1891 Anderson City Directory (the only one they had), I found a single person listed as a musical instrument manufacturer. S. C. Cochran who had set up shop on 111 1-/2 North Main Street! As we found with the photo studio, this would probably be on the second floor.

Image Credit: MyHeritage

And on the same 1890 Sanborn map, I found the address which places his shop above a plumber's


It was rather difficult to find any matching individuals on any of the research websites, the closest lead I found was for a Simon or Simeon Cochran who was a carpenter in the 1900 census. 

This late 1972 Guild twelve string came to me in need of some repairs. My initial inspection of the guitar showed that the bridge was well s...

This late 1972 Guild twelve string came to me in need of some repairs. My initial inspection of the guitar showed that the bridge was well seated around its perimeter but the 'belly' of the bridge was separated about 1/16" from the top and that void was filled with wood glue. I wouldn't let that ride on a six string and it is definitely not good with the extra tension of this guitar. That will never do.

I used my vinyl sealing iron to warm the bridge and applied De Glue Goo, a gel vinegar solution, to the glue to assist in breaking the bond. The process took about thirty minutes from start to finish. Once the bridge was removed, I realized that this wasn't simply a lifting bridge but rather a full bridge reglue that went awry. I wasn't the first person in here.


We are looking at pieces of top wood missing and pockets of glue in their place. Neither of which are signs of a good reglue. Wood glue is a poor gap filler as its meant to bond two, well-fit, surfaces together. Further, wood glue bonds poorly to itself so applying more glue on top of the already dried glue is a waste of time. This needs to be fully redone if the I want this guitar to have any change of survival. 

Surface Prep


With two, freshly-sharpened chisels I began carefully carving away the glue and excessively damaged spruce. I make up a couple of small sanding blocks using scraps of wood with bevelled edges and 120 grit sandpaper glued to their face. These blocks are used to level the surface and prepare the spruce for the patches that I will be gluing in. I've also found it helpful to apply low-tack masking tape to the top, trace the bridge outline, lightly score the tape, and use that to clearly define where I need to stop.


I have removed about 1/32" of wood, about the most I'm comfortable with, which has exposed fresh, clean wood.Notice how towards the perimeter of the bridge I have removed less spruce than the center, that is crucial to the success of this repair.

The strength in this joint is the bond between the long side of the patch (shown in yellow) and the long side of the recess in the top. In a quarter-sawn board, like the spruce top and patch, these sides are known as the 'face' grain. Wood glue excels at bonding timber on the face or side grain but is weak bonding 'end' grain. We have to consider this when inlaying the patch.
In red, you see an example of weak glue joint where the end grain of the top is glued to the end grain of the patch and both boards meet at a right angle. I'm not going to claim any formal knowledge of engineering, but my understanding is that right angles 'concentrate' stress and will break first. My own experiences in woodworking and repair support that understanding. A repair using this technique will certainly fail.

In green, you see an example of a strong glue joint where the clear line between end grain and face grain is fuzzy, there is a mixture of both. In addition, the taper allows both materials to flex as the patch is less rigid where it is thinner. This spreads the stresses out across both pieces.

Making the Patch

Quartersawn spruce stock is an odd thing for a hobbyist to find but I've found that its easiest to find a wood or lutherie supplier and buy a B stock top, an orphaned top, or a spruce bridge plate. It pays off for making cleats and patches. I suppose one could find quartersawn spruce veneer but I haven't found it necessary. Using the right species and cut of wood makes the repair look professional and spruce has one of the highest weight to strength ratios of timber. It makes sense to keep it consistent.

First, I use a thickness (or drum) sander to reduce the spruce to about 1/32". Usually these patches will sit proud and have to be pared down. Then I mark my desired area on the bridge, align the spruce on the bridge, and trace the perimeter. I use a bandsaw and spindle sander to shape the patch. Lastly, I sand a matching bevel into the bottom of the patch and then, on the top, sand a wider bevel to allow the patch to flex while I clamp it.

I press the patch into the top to check its fit and confirm that it contacts the new top fully, sanding any material that prevents a perfect fit. When I am ready, I apply water to the top of the patch (to prevent cupping) and apply Titebond I, the red bottle, to my prepared surface. I press the patch into the glue and lightly work it back and forth to ensure the glue makes full contact.

The patch sits in its channel and resists being moved around, this is exactly the fit I was looking for.

I made up a couple cauls out of some scrap maple and tapered them along their length so they have a little flexibility. My patches don't sit perfectly flush with the top, at this stage, so the flexibility is beneficial. I use a plastic straw with the end cut at an angle to scoop up the excess glue and I usually apply masking tape to the bottom of my cauls to prevent them from being glued to the instrument.

Finishing

After the patches have had a chance to dry, I come back in with chisels and working in a slide-to-slide, slicing motion to carefully trim the spruce back. This would be considerably easier with a cranked-neck chisel but I don't own one yet. The sanding blocks come back, again, to level the surface. Masking tape is very important to prevent damaging the lacquer.

As I work, the edges of the patch become translucent and you can see the original wood underneath. I'm not trying to glue the bridge onto a platform but, rather, bring the low spots up to meet the original wood. Near the top of the photo you can see one of my patches doesn't extend the full length since the original wood was in good condition there.

I check my work using a ruler and find that the surface is consistent, level, and at the perfect depth for the bridge. The patch can't be much thicker, now, than 1/64" but it has a clean bond to the original wood and will cleanly bond to the bridge.








  About      Gustav Adolph Carlson was born in April of 1869 in Sweden. As is often the case, his early life in the old country is unclear. ...

 


About

    Gustav Adolph Carlson was born in April of 1869 in Sweden. As is often the case, his early life in the old country is unclear. He immigrated to the United States in 1891 and settled in Chicago, a booming city with a considerable Swedish population. In 1895, he married a fellow Swede named Alma Malinquist and by Februrary of the next year they had their first and only child, Pearl Lillian Judith Carlson [1].

1895 Sanborn map showing 6011 S. Halsted
Two families lived at 6011 and a large outbuilding would've been ideal for a workshop.
Image Credit: Library of Congress

    The earliest reference to Gustav is found in the 1896 City Directory where he was working as a guitar maker and living at 6011 South Halsted Street in the Englewood neighborhood [5]. In the absence of surviving literature from the years prior, his formative years in Chicago are unknown. I can reasonably assume, from my research on other luthiers of the period, that he would've had been apprenticed to a carpenter, cabinetmaker, or joiner as a boy and brought those, marketable, skills to the new world. Chicago had one of the largest populations of musical instrument manufacturers in the country, rivalled only by New York, which would've offered a wide selection of large firms and independent builders with whom to learn from.

The Storefront

    By 1897, he was operating out of 741 West 63rd Street, a few blocks south of his house, and listed as working with musical instruments [2]. Interestingly, his building number changes to 750 in 1898 and 753 in 1899 [3][6]. I can't say I entirely understand why it changed each year but perhaps numbering was more a loose suggestion until Chicago standardized and renumbered their streets a decade later. Perhaps Gustav was actually moving his shop and tools to the neighboring building each year but I find that hard to believe. By the 1900 census, his residence was listed as 755 West 63rd Street and he was working as an 'instrument manufacturer' [4]. I do believe he moved into this building as it was three stories, compared to the single level at 741, and would have plenty of room for a family to live above a business. 

1895 Sanborn Map showing the 700 block of W 63rd Street
Image Credit: Library of Congress

    I won't suggest drawing a connection between the address on the label, his address in the directory, and try to conclude the date of manufacture unless a Carlson instrument surfaces with an altered label or different address. I believe the story behind this to be far more simple if we place ourselves in his shoes. Gustav, having just signed the lease on a storefront, would've sought out a printing shop in the directory and placed an order for a stack of paper labels with his name, occupation, and address. As an investment, tossing the inaccurate labels would've been foolish and a customer walking down the 700 block of 63rd Street would've found him anyways.

Taking the 9 to 5

The Chicago trail ran cold after the census but surprisingly there was a hit in Denver, Colorado for Gustav and "Emma" in 1910. Gustav was working for the Pullman Company, the railroad giant. It took a while to detangle the mess of information and it turned out that Pearl, their daughter, was the link connecting the families. It's a unique name. They first appear in Denver in the 1903 city directory living at 399 Williams Street and working as a carpenter. By 1905, they are living at 3406 Humboldt Street and by 1910 they are living at 3408 Humboldt [8][9].

Manufacturing instruments is a tough business. Its expensive in materials, tools, and time building for a clientele that often makes their living with gigs. I believe Gustav learned of an employment opportunity, utilizing skills he already had, and simply couldn't refuse an opportunity for a steady paycheck. Or perhaps he was chased out of town for cheating at cards. I'm just speculating.

Gustav worked for the rail company until his retirement and when Alma passed, in 1944, he moved in with Pearl and her husband Albert Sorenson. His date of death is unclear and, through this research, I really understood how even paper records are prone to human error or omission. Alma was thirteen years younger than Gustav and nine years younger than what was originally claimed in the 1900 census. That age difference is supported in each census from 1910 to 1940 but her tombstone references her, likely incorrect, birth date. Their daughter Pearl Lillian Judith and Gustav's birthdate are the only consistent facts.

Instruments

I would safely place the production of G. A. Carlson's instruments, on 63rd Street, between 1896 and 1902.

Gregg Miner's incredible website, www.harpguitars.net, features two articles about Carlson's instruments. His knowledge pertaining to harp guitars and how they evolved makes the articles very well informed. He has a collection of black and white photographs showing harp guitars with the bands and musicians that played them and was able to connect historical photos with photos of Carlson instruments that have surfaced in the modern era. He notes four possible Carlson instruments including two that he knows to have survived. I am in the process of repairing a previously unknown example, the fifth G. A. Carlson harp guitar to be identified on the internet.



Construction of one Carlson harp guitar

Gregg Miner includes images and descriptions of the details and structure of the Carlson guitars that he has seen, including the Carlson that he currently owns. This instrument differs in a few ways from the guitars that Gregg has observed but it still shows enough of the tell-tale signs of Gustav's hand. He didn't build each guitar exactly the same, there was some experimentation and evolution.

This instrument was sitting in a damp environment, the tail end has water damage and the back has fallen off. There are previous repairs and modifications which need to be addressed but the core of the instrument is still there. The top is constructed from four pieces of spruce, I'm no good with identifying specific species, and finished in a french polish. The back and sides are birdseye maple and finished in a varnish, like a violin. It has the most curious bridge, its a large piece of mahogany (likely cuban) with integral through holes which connect to the tailpiece. The bridge is secured to the tailpiece with split nuts.


I was surprised by the bracing inside this guitar, it's the largest bracing I have ever seen in an instrument and I couldn't be happier. Instruments from this era were, primarily, built for gut strings and were braced very lightly. Once steel strings became mainstream, they found their way onto many guitars including those that definitely weren't built for it. This guitar was built stout enough to support the extra tension and I am certain that helped guarantee the survival of this guitar. Each longitudinal brace is 9/16" wide by 3/4" tall with about 1/16" in variance. These braces are rectangular and burnished to a dull sheen. The bridge plate is a 1/4" piece of walnut. The tail block reinforcement has since fallen off and been lost. 

Here is a closeup of the upper bout. The dovetails were cut with a handsaw and don't quite meet the centerline of each neck. The soundhole reinforcement braces are large, which is excellent. And the 'popsicle' brace between the neck block and first brace is a nice addition. Martin wouldn't use it until the late 1940s.

Here is a bug I found in one of the braces, not cool little buddy. You can also see that the back braces are carved very flat and the edges are more crude. This will come up in my restoration blog as I believe the braces to be original but tampered with.


Sources

[1] 1900 Census - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/7602/images/4113743_00583?pId=11420534
[2] 1897 City directory - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/2469/images/4710924?pId=368304793
[3] 1898 City directory - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/2469/images/4734708?pId=372934718
[4] 1900 Census - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/7602/images/4113743_00583?pId=11420534
[5] 1896 City directory - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/2469/images/4703606?pId=372934718
[6] 1899 City directory - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/2469/images/4706343?pId=368304793
[7] 1910 Census - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/7884/images/31111_4328173-00526?pId=130307002
[8] 1910 Denver city directory - https://www.ancestry.com/imageviewer/collections/27620/images/dvm_LocHist011768-00166-0?
[9] 1905 Denver city directory - https://www.ancestry.com/discoveryui-content/view/928121728:2469?tid=&pid=&queryId=5d778592-a70d-4fef-bdff-0c0539fc71b3&_phsrc=EUo129&_phstart=successSource

Eau Claire Lumber Company advertisement c.1875 [1]  About The Eau Claire Lumber Company was founded by Joseph G Thorp and his brother-in-law...

Eau Claire Lumber Company advertisement
c.1875 [1]

 About

The Eau Claire Lumber Company was founded by Joseph G Thorp and his brother-in-law, N. C. Chapman, in 1866 [4]. Joseph Thorp had apprenticed with a merchant, Ira Wilcox, in New York from the ages of seventeen until he was twenty-one. After his apprenticeship, Wilcox brought Thorp on as a partner and they continued until 1846 when Wilcox retired and sold his interest to Thorp's brother-in-law, N. C. Chapman. Chapman and Thorp operated for another ten years before making the decision to leave New York and head West in search of prosperity. It was June of 1856 when Thorp first visited the new town of Eau Claire in Wisconsin and saw plentiful forests, strong rivers, and endless opportunity. Before leaving, he purchased 3,000 acres of land which included trees, a saw mill, and water to power it. This began a new leg for the partnership of Thorp & Chapman [3].

[2]

In 1858, N. Chapman travelled down the Mississippi to St Louis, leaving Thorp in charge at Eau Claire, to open a lumber yard in which to distribute the logs they floated. In 1866, they formally established the Eau Claire Lumber Company with a capital of $200,000 [3]. They primary dealt with Pine. In 1878, their shipping yard at the end of Salisbury Street received a shipment containing 800,000 feet of lumber, 500,000 shingles, 50,000 lath, and 300,000 pickets. Their office and yard appear to have been located at the northwest corner of Cass and 14th Streets [8]. In 1883, flooding from the Mississippi threatened much of downtown St Louis and the levees were being constantly maintained by Captain Christopher Smith, superintendent of the yard [9]. 

By 1887, the company sold their mills in Eau Claire as well as Standing Pine, Minnesota to the Mississippi River Logging Company [7]. Their remaining stock was to be floated down the Mississippi to be sold in St Louis. In 1888 or 1889, the firm dissolved and paid its shareholders handsomely [2].

"Eau Claire Lumber Board(?)"
Stamped on a rafter in an 1800s structure in St Charles, Missouri



Sources

[1] "Compiled Statement of the Lumber Trade and Manufacture for the Year 1874" Northwestern Lumberman, 1875 https://books.google.com/books?id=ApzXAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA105&dq=%22eau+claire+lumber%22+st+louis&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjgsJX1p4GFAxWkmokEHX5kB34Q6AF6BAgIEAI#v=onepage&q&f=false
[2] "Annual Statement of the Trade and Commerce of Saint Louis for the Year" Merchants' Exchange of St Louis 1885 https://books.google.com/books?id=jP1FAQAAMAAJ&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&dq=%22eau+claire+lumber%22+st+louis&source=gbs_navlinks_s
[3] https://books.google.com/books?id=KuoqAQAAMAAJ&pg=PA624&dq=%22eau+claire+lumber%22+st+louis&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjgsJX1p4GFAxWkmokEHX5kB34Q6AF6BAgJEAI#v=onepage&q=%22eau%20claire%20lumber%22%20st%20louis&f=false
[4] http://eauclaire.wigenweb.org/histories/1914ecco/chapter21/index.htm
[5] "The Great Southwest" L. U. Reavis. Nixon-Jones Printing Company, 1882 https://books.google.com/books?id=a_kYAAAAYAAJ&pg=PT14&dq=%22eau+claire+lumber%22+st+louis&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjv-crQrIGFAxWqv4kEHV0RAxI4ChDoAXoECAkQAg#v=onepage&q&f=false
[6] https://digital.shsmo.org/digital/collection/plat/id/6676
[7] https://stltoday.newspapers.com/image/138124318/?terms=eau%20claire%20lumber&match=1
[8] https://stltoday.newspapers.com/image/137797347/?terms=eau%20claire%20lumber&match=1
[9] https://stltoday.newspapers.com/image/139277230/?terms=eau%20claire%20lumber&match=1

Ogden Avenue      In 1890, at the 26th anniversary of Lyon & Healy's founding, a group of reporters were invited to tour the factory...

Ogden Avenue

    In 1890, at the 26th anniversary of Lyon & Healy's founding, a group of reporters were invited to tour the factory and report about what they had seen. This five-story factory was built on Ogden Avenue, facing Union Park, after the company outgrew their previous facility on Canal Street. 

    When you entered the front doors, you found managers' offices, drafting rooms where instruments and machines were designed, and a sample room containing examples of what Lyon and Healy produced. The rooms were paneled in oak and furnished with oak chairs, desks, and cabinets. As you left the offices and walked into the shipping department, one would be overwhelmed by the quantity of boxes and creates destined for stores and consumers all over North America and across the Atlantic. Even as far as Sydney, Australia. 

    Adjacent to the packing room was the sawing department located in the south wing of the first floor, likely the loudest room in the entire factory. Here, rough timbers from across the globe were brought to the factory and sawn, planed, and stacked to fully dry before craftsmen transformed them into instruments. One reporter made special note of the "graduating" machine which reduced the spruce, mahogany, oak, and rosewood to the uniform thickness required for instruments. The reporter doesn't mention whether the woods are sanded or scraped to thickness but does note that the bed of the machine sits on a large screw which can be adjusted to a thousandth of an inch. 

Two men passing wood through the "graduating" machine
(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    Another fascinating tool is the "fretting" machine which was invented by factory superintendent George V. Durkey, who was also responsible for the Durkey patent guitar bridge. 18 razor thin saw blades were mounted to an arbor at scientifically precise measurements and a board would be passed under the arbor to slice the slots for the fretboard. This machine would've been revolutionary for its precision and repeatability and the design remained in use for decades. I spoke with Dean Zelinsky, of Dean Guitars, who had purchased a similar machine from the auction of the Kay guitar factory and had used it to launch his brand. Another tool of note was a duplicating lathe, like those used for gun stocks, that turned billets of Spanish cedar or mahogany into a shaped neck ready for a guitar or mandolin.

Operating the duplicarver making guitar necks
 (Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    In the west wing were the blacksmith and metalworking departments. The blacksmiths made tools, fixtures, and repairs needed to run the factory while the metalworking department created the hardware for their products. A 400lb drop hammer stamped out cymbals in "two blows" before the metal was taken to a trip hammer which pounds a spinning cymbal to work harden the metal. A lathe is used to finish the cymbal for the correct sound and appearance. Banjo pots and tambourines were also formed in this wing using lathes and specially fabricated tooling. One quality that sets Lyon and Healy apart was that they also fabricated machine heads, or tuning machines as we know them, for their instruments in this wing. Most other manufacturers relied on companies to construct their tuning machines but Lyon and Healy retained control over every aspect of what went into their instruments. 

    Producing a machine head began with a sheet of metal, typically brass or steel, passing through a large press which stamps out the shape and holes of each tuner plate. A screw machine cuts threads into a rod of iron and another machine cuts gears into another rod; these will become mechanism that allow the string to be brought up to pitch and remain at that pitch. After all the pieces are assembled and the buttons attached via riveting (mushrooming the end over the celluloid button), the tuner is complete and ready for the next department. It was estimated that over 870,000 parts of tuners are produced annually for their instruments.

A craftsman likely scraping the sides of a glued-up guitar body
(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    Next along the tour was the guitar department with "no less than 7,000 instruments being seen here in various stages of construction". Similarly, around 2,000 mandolins were in the process of being bent, glued, and polished as they walked through the factory. Among the other instruments, Mr. Healy pointed out to the group that they had shipped 3,000 banjos to London in the past two years owing to its popularity. The reporter mentions the harp and organ department in a few sentences with little detail. After concluding the tour of the factory, all twenty-four members of the tour group were were seated in a banquet hall as speeches and small musical performances honored the twenty-six years in business as Lyon & Healy 

Chicago Daily Herald

In 1896, Lyon and Healy reprinted the description of the tour that originally appeared in the Chicago Daily Herald. This is one of the best descriptions of an 1800s guitar factory that I have ever read and will paraphrase the author's observations here. The article in it's entirety can be read here: Google Books - Lyon and Healy "Handbook of Music and Musical Instruments"

    The Lyon and Healy factory facing Union Park is five stories tall with fifteen rooms and 100,000 square feet of floor space. The building is powered by a 150 horsepower Corliss engine in addition to a 30hp engine for heating and ventilation. A tank on the roof holds 8,000 gallons of water and faucets spaced ten feet apart provide adequate coverage in the case of combustion. Within this factory, craftsmen build guitars, mandolins, zithers, banjos, banjorines, banjorettes, guitar-banjos, tamborines, drums, flageolets, harps, dulcimers, cymbals, fifes, bones, and organs. An equally staggering number of wood species are used including six varieties of maple, hickory, spruce, elm, whitewood, rosewood, mahogany, Spanish cedar, lignum vitae, ebony, and olivewood. Other raw materials include mother-of-pearl, tortoise shell, brass, zinc, copper, nickel, silver, gold, and platinum. The operations of a factory were described as a "beehive" with each craftsman working on their specialty before handing the instrument on to the next worker.
Drilling the bracket holes in banjo hoops
(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    In the wood room on the first floor, twenty different machines are found being operated by the same number of workmen. A steam powered lathe, invented by the superintendent of the factory, can transform a billet of wood into an instrument neck with a speed unheard of in the industry. Where a talented woodworker could make fourteen necks in a day, this machine can carve one hundred and sixty. The description of this tool matches that of a duplicating lathe as a pattern is placed in the machine along with a beam of wood and the cutting operation makes an exact replica. The reporter notes that it only takes about three minutes to fabricate a neck. Another man works at a lathe creating drumsticks. He inserts a cut of ebony, which strikes me as an odd choice but I am no drummer, between the headstock and tailpiece of the lathe and carves then sands a drumstick. The reporter clocked the operation at 1 minute and 8 seconds. Further down the hall is another craftsman soaking sheets of maple and hickory in boiling water before placing them in a brass mold to form a hoop. The ends are cut flush and then glued together.

(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    The tour steps into another room with a faint chemical smell where two men work among tubs dipping and transferring metal pieces into solutions for electro plating. Here, the hardware is plated in gold, silver, and nickel as needed. A bath of sulfuric acid is used to clean the metal, water washes away the acid, then into a tub of potash which leave the metal shiny and glistening. The workers are protected by "stout rubber gloves", I can only hope the room was well ventilated. The group proceeds into the polishing room where they are greeted by spinning cotton wheels in front of men and boys who are given boxes of materials that they are to polish. 

(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    Off to the inlay room to see how the pearl gets processed to adorn the instruments of Lyon and Healy. The room contains a large closet with shelves full of glimmering shells, primarily from southern California, that retail for eight cents a pound in the rough. More expensive shells from Australia cost fourty-five cents a pound. The workers handle the shells with care as they use a power saw to cut the raw shell into squares which are then taken to a steam-powered grindstone to flatten the pearl into slabs. The reporter mentions their astonishment at seeing how much shell was tossed out or lost in order to process the blanks. From here, boys (very often apprentices in their early teens) will sit with fine-toothed saws and cut the pearl to shape and perform rough inlay work. The more experienced men handle the finer artistry by carving lines and designs into the pearl.

    "A stout brass rod is feeing the yawning jaw of the machine, and it bites of chunks of it, seizes them with its teeth and claws and twists, twirls them and knocks them round and round, finally dropping the product in a basin underneath. You look at it and find it is a nut for a banjo bolt with the thread running around on the inside of it" 

    Passing into the machine room, no less than fourty-five machines are situated in a large workshop dedicated to metal. Many of the machines run their processes automatically but require a boy to stand within reach to swap parts and start the process. 

    The author notes a pleasant feeling leaving the "kingdom of rough, inartistic metal" as they pass into the woodshops. He notes a hundred or more men visible working on every stage of these instruments as they lay on benches, dry on shelves, and rest on floors. Describing a "row of funny-looking objects, with screws stretching out all over them" are the bowlback mandolins in their jigs meant to press the wood strips into shape. Bowlback mandolins are constructed from varying strips of hardwood that are steambent into a curve, glued on their edges, and form the "bowl" that is responsible for projecting sound from the instrument. An iron mold is used in this factory to keep the shape while screws hold everything in alignment for clamping. An odor of rosewood fills the room of instruments and, it is explained, that because rosewood is so gummy they iron each strip before gluing to remove as much resin as possible.

A 'library' of woods left in the open for proper drying before use
(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    In the drying rooms, Lyon and Healy airdries their lumber without artificial heat believing it to be detrimental to the structure of the wood. The room is filled with racks and each rack contains shelves with up to 2,400 pieces of wood sitting on wooden pins for adequate airflow. This is where the the backs, sides, and tops of future instruments are stored until they have seasoned for at least five years. Next to the drying room is a gluing room where the bent sides of an instrument are glued to the top and back by large presses suspended from the ceiling. Each piece is coated with hot hide glue and, in my observation, scraped with a "toothing" blade to promote adhesion, and then placed into a press where the author notes that they remain for one and a half hours.

A worker clamping braces onto the top or back of a guitar 
(Lyon & Healy, 1896)

    The job of slotting fingerboards is made easier by the invention of a machine that allows for a board to be affixed, a crank is turned, and precisely located saws cut the slots to an equal depth at a mathematically determined spacing. Another worker sits in front of a lathe spinning ivory and ebony to fashion buttons and keys. And without much fanfare, the article ends. 

Fullerton Avenue Factory

Image Credit: [3]

    In 1914, Lyon and Healy constructed a new piano factory at 4100 Fullerton Avenue in Chicago at a cost of $450,000. [2][3]. The structure was laid out in a shape similar to a capital "E" with each wing being 60 feet wide. The building was constructed with reinforced concrete, large windows, red brick, and a white terracotta trim to blend function with beauty. Much like the factory on Ogden, the first floor was dedicated to processing the lumber using the newest electric saws, planers, and sanding machines [2]. The most interesting detail of the factory was the attention paid to incorporating natural light through use of large windows spaced frequently around the structure.

Image Credit: [3]

    The "Daylight Factory", as it was known, was designed to capture light no matter the time of day with at least 50% of the wall space being window. The interior pillars were painted white, to reflect light, and skylights allowed for even more illumination on the top floor. R. H. Waud, the plant's superintendent believed that this attention to the needs of their workers was reflected in the work that they produced. I found it humorous that Mr. Waud noted his plant also suffered the "characteristic post-war tendency" of workers to "pick up their hats and leave if urged ever so politely and gently to speed up". To expedite construction, all of the operations were laid out to keep everything moving in a line with as little backtracking as possible. Once a craftsman finished a component, it left for the next department [3].

Image Credit: [3]

    The raw lumber enter the campus on a spur track from the Chicago, Milwaukee, and St Pail railway and are loaded on trucks which haul them to the kilns for drying. The wood is then easily moved to the first floor where craftsmen use electric saws, planers, and sanders to process the timber. Still on the first floor, the dimensioned lumber moves to the the cabinetmaking room where veneers are glued, lumber is shaped into components, and the carcass of the piano constructed. An elevator on the southern end lifts the soon-to-be pianos to the second floor where the staining and grain filling can be taken care of. Here the benches are assembled and the pianos are fully assembled and tested. The pianos take another ride to the fourth floor "rubbing rooms" where they are finished and polished before being sent back down to the second floor to be prepared for shipping. The north end of the second floor opens onto an elevated track where the finished instruments can be loaded directly onto the train cars and shipped to their their distributors. The third floor contains the machinist shop and also doubles as a room for construction of harps, banjos, mandolins, and violins [3].

Interestingly, the equipment seen on each floor was listed.

First Floor
  • Back shaper
  • Automatic drill
  • Sanding Machine
  • Two belt sanders
  • Scraper
  • Trim Saw
  • Band Saw
  • Two Rip Saws
  • Grinder and emery wheel
  • Veneer splicing machine
  • Veneer cutter
  • Veneer hydraulic press
  • Veneer gluing machine
  • Sawdust blower
  • Three jointers
  • Rip saw
  • Glue Press
  • Swing saw
  • Two planers
  • One sticker(?)
  • Automatic turning lathe
  • Boring machine
On the third floor in the harp department:
  • Lathes
  • Drill presses
  • Punch presses
  • Etc
In the machine shop
  • Jig saw
  • Drill press
  • Table Saw
  • Grind Stone
On the fourth floor
  • Rubbing machines
  • Band saw
  • Drill press
  • Emery wheel


Sources

[1] hMusical Courier Company. Musical Courier: A Weekly Journal Devoted to Music and the Music Trades, Volumes 20-21 https://books.google.com/books?id=hG-BPEXqX-MC&pg=RA2-PA414&dq=lyon+and+healy+factory+tour&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjv1_DuutOEAxU5OTQIHdY-D90Q6AF6BAgHEAI
[2] Violinist Publishing Company. The Violinist. 1915 https://books.google.com/books?id=i6pGAQAAMAAJ&pg=RA5-PA29&dq=lyon+and+healy+factory&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjYleLXu9OEAxULFzQIHatSA3oQ6AF6BAgMEAI
[3] Hardwood Company. Hardwood Record, Volume 49. 1920 https://books.google.com/books?id=kgI3AQAAMAAJ&pg=RA3-PA27&dq=lyon+and+healy+factory&hl=en&newbks=1&newbks_redir=0&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjYleLXu9OEAxULFzQIHatSA3oQ6AF6BAgIEAI