These days, everything in our world exists as a “Brand,” a quantifiable product or service, a known commodity. Marketing is the essence of successful market share, and thus it is natural that those things we purchase or consume exist for us in a world of their own mythology, complete with fan clubs, spokespeople and pedigrees. Say the magic words: Gibson, Fender, Martin, Guild, Gretsch, Rickenbacker, and guitarists everywhere can picture their favorite models, the artists who play them, and on what great recordings they appear.
It wasn’t always so.
In 1930’s America, during the Great Depression, the makers of our cherished musical instruments teetered on the verge of their own economic collapse. At that time, there were no Big Box musical instrument retailers. Instead, instruments were typically sold in one of three ways: through stand alone Mom and Pop music shops, in regional or national department store chains, or through the famed catalog retailers like Sears, Spiegel and Montgomery Ward. Of them, the Mom and Pop shops were the most important, because the relationships formed between the customer and the shop were such that they were the best source of repeat business.
So, it was vital to protect those stores and keep them viable. Gibson, which sold most of its instruments through those small retail shops, was contractually obliged to them to not undercut the Mom and Pops by wholesaling their guitars at lower rates to the department stores and catalog giants. This left Gibson between a rock and a hard place. At a time when most consumers had little to no disposable income, it was essential to find a way to get more affordable instruments to market, get what could be gotten out of their sale, and keep the lights on at the factory.
Gibson, Harmony and Kay guitars, probably the three biggest manufacturers by volume, kept those lights on by manufacturing instruments under a slew of different names, and distributed them through all of the various outlets. We know of quite a few of them: Kalamazoo, Recording King, Cromwell, Kel Kroydon, Silvertone, Airline, Alden, Oahu. Gibson alone manufactured instruments under a little over thirty different brand names, and Harmony somewhere between fifty and sixty. Many of these instruments found their homes in the catalog companies, where those unusual brand names allowed for them to be sold as “House instruments,” guitars you could get through that store and no where else.
To make this all work, it was often the case that the off-brand instruments had to be simplified in construction, ornamentation and design, so they could be made more efficiently and therefore be less costly to produce to the manufacturing company. They also had to look different enough that a knowledgeable consumer would not readily see that this was a Gibson masquerading as something else. As an example, in Gibson acoustic guitars manufactured for the catalog and department store markets, X-Bracing gave way to ladder bracing, fancy inlays were simplified, the patented Gibson Truss Rod system was sidelined, and headstocks took on new shapes. Body shapes generally stayed the same, finishing techniques stayed the same, tone woods were less figured. In the end, a guitar is a guitar; these just looked and sounded a little different.
This past month, we took in a strikingly beautiful acoustic flat top with an arched back, floating bridge and trapeze tailpiece. It had no serial number, no FON number, and no brand name on the headstock. But, in design and appointments, it was clearly a guitar from the 1930s. The question became, “Whose guitar was it?”
We wound up looking at four distinct features of the guitar to try to make a determination on its provenance: the width of the lower bout, the unusual checkerboard design of the sound hole trim, the neck profile and the shape of the headstock. After many hours of painstaking research, we did not turn up a single example of a guitar that was entirely like this one. There was a Kay guitar that looked something like this from a distance, but all of the four parameters were different.
Still, what we had on the bench held enough clues to sort it out. The lower bout, at 15 5/8” wide, is the same size as a 1930’s Gibson dreadnought (and of a Martin, to be precise), while the aforementioned Kay had a lower bout of 15 7/8”. The neck profile is a classic V profile, common to Gibson guitars, and the binding at the sound hole, often referred to as a “zipper” binding, was found, as far as we can tell, on Gibson guitars, for only one year, 1932.
That left the headstock. while a number of manufacturers used paddle style headstocks somewhat similar to this, the only ones we could find that were exact matches for the one on our guitar, with rounded corners and a chamfered front to back edge, were on some of the Kalamazoo models, a number of the Recording Kings, and on the lesser known Cromwell and Capital guitars. All were made by Gibson.
What we have, we are fairly certain, is a Gibson made Acoustic Flat Top from 1932 (or 1933 with leftover parts!). It is ladder braced (we had to reglue two of the braces) has a 26” scale, and plays like a dream. It has a voice that is among the loudest I have ever heard on an acoustic guitar, with a crisp snap of an attack and a resonance that borders on having its own echo.
In the end, the lack of a specific brand name on the headstock probably indicates that this was a guitar made and sold as a “stencil,” an instrument wholesaled without brand markings, so a retailer could affix, inlay or engrave their own, creating a proprietary “House Brand” in the process.
The lesson? If you come across an old guitar that feels solidly built and sounds great, do not dismiss it for lack of a well known brand name. Many of these older instruments were made by folks who really knew what they were about, and unique voices from a bygone era could be yours for a song.
Like a graceful sailing ship, the magic of a guitar or mandolin is all about line and form. When I work to bring an instrument into its best playing shape, it is about observing those lines and subtle curves, and how they relate to action, to transmission of string vibrations, to the production of the best tone that instrument can produce.
Among the instruments in the shop this month were two that needed neck resets, action adjustments, tonal optimization and minor repairs. These are indicative of the kind of daily work I am pleased to do.
The first was a lovely Bacon Mandolin from the 1920s, in good overall shape, but the victim of prior repairs that were a little hit or miss. The action was unplayable, the tone poorly defined, there was some old water damage to the tail of the instrument which had caused the wood to warp and separate, and a chip that had been taken out of what was effectively, the heel cap. The neck was loose in the joint and the bridge had been lowered to counter the set of the neck, resulting in a lower break angle without being able to lower the action.
First things first, the bridge had to be reshaped to fit the contour of the top of the mandolin. This is an absolute requirement for proper transmission of vibration from each string to the top and thus to the body of the instrument. Once corrected, the bridge was set at a better height to provide a higher break angle and the neck’s degree of underset was established relative to that new height.
From there, some simple geometric calculations determined just how much material had to be removed from the neck heel to correct the angle; a little adjustment goes a very long way. The neck was removed and was found to be based not on a dovetail, but on a dowel joint, one that had never been fully glued into place! After removing a tapered wedge of material from the heel of the neck, and shaving the dowel to allow it to reseat in its pocket at the correct angle, a new fretboard extension shim was added to keep everything straight and the neck was reglued.
The separation at the tailblock was a major concern. When an instrument gets soaked with moisture, the resulting damage can be to both the wood and the hide glues which hold pieces of wood together. The damage to the wood of this old Bacon was not the kind that could be returned to its original state; the best option was to fill the joint first with glue to hold pieces together, and then with a stainable filler to make for a more pleasant (if somewhat scarred) appearance. Similarly, the chip which had come out of the heel cap, had to be filled with a tiny piece of delicately shaped Maple, which could be glued to the damaged area and blended in.
After a fret leveling and crowning, stringing and set-up, the result is a great playing mandolin, with a silky smooth action and a high break angle, insuring great transmission of string vibration to the instrument, and a pure, well balanced voice.
The second instrument is a mid-1960s Harmony H165, the “Poor Man’s Martin,” a solid Mahogany OM sized acoustic most closely akin to a Martin 00-17. These ladder braced guitars have great voices, depth and warmth, and are possibly the best value in vintage guitars on today’s market. Top and Back are both one piece, something that you just don’t see in a contemporary guitar. However, in typical Harmony fashion, the guitar was never shimmed properly. Instead, it was slogged together with ample amounts of hide glue to fill the dovetail cavity and hold things in place. Time had taken its toll. The neck joint was pulling upward at the heel, the action was high enough to get a Mazda Miata under it, and a prior owner had lowered the saddle to just above the height of the bridge slot, effectively killing the tone of the guitar with a nearly flat break angle. The degree of neck underset was noted and a measurement was calculated to bring that line of the fretboard back to about a millimeter above the bridge. The neck was removed, the angle adjusted, the joint properly shimmed and everything put back together. Now, the guitar sports a nice high saddle in conjunction with a fast action (5/64ths Low E, 1/16 High E at twelfth fret) and, strung with Silk and Steel strings, sings with a warm, bluesy tone that has both depth and presence. I love these guitars and actively seek them out; they never disappoint.
Line and form. The line of the fretboard and of the string, the geometry of the triangle they produce, the vibration arc of the string in motion, the shape and height of the saddle, the tension on the string introduced by the break angle, the fitting of a floating bridge to the curved top of a mandolin. Bringing these elements together is like bringing the stars into alignment (though nowhere near as difficult), and the result is the best sound and playability that instrument can produce.
The creative spark of the artist? Well, that is up to you.
Bacon Action After Reset
After a reset and the proper shimming of the fretboard extension, the action is smooth as silk.
Bacon Bridge Fit
The Bridge must make a clean contact with the top for optimal vibration transmission.
Chip Repair
Fitting this tiny piece took almost as much time as the reset!
Photos of the restored H165, including the dovetail joint, ready for reshaping to the new angle, the new bone saddle, optimized for a better break angle and great tone, and the low, 5/64ths action at the twelfth fret. This guitar is an absolute joy to play.
Too much tension is not good for our health. Nor is it good for the health of a guitar. I work on a lot of instruments from the 1920s through the 1970s, and I see a lot of guitars that have been stored for years, under tension. That can wreak havoc on a neck, a bridge, or a top, and many guitars need attention in one or more of these areas to return them to playability.
This December, I worked on four instruments suffering from too much tension. The first was an Oahu 71K Jumbo Lap Steel (square neck), made by Kay in the 1930s. Over the years, the tension had caused the bridge to crack behind the bass side of the saddle, and for the bridge to begin to separate from the top. Fortunately, as a lap steel, the action was meant to be high, so there were no neck issues of note. The bridge crack was repaired and the bridge reattached, and the guitar is now listed in our shop.
Next, I had to tackle a Harmony Sovereign H1260, their Jumbo dreadnought, and this one needed much more attention. Once again, the stress of being left under tension, had impacted this guitar, causing the neck to dip and rendering the action unplayable. There were a couple cracks in hard to reach places along the endpin which had to be cleated and glued from inside, a nut that had to be reset, and a new heel cap to fabricate, but more importantly, the neck heel was cracked in half and the neck angle necessitated a full-off reset. Fortunately, the hide glues with which almost all good guitars are constructed, allow for everything to be taken apart again for repair. The neck heel was carefully drilled, dowelled and glued, the angle of the neck corrected to bring down the action (and raise the saddle for a better break angle at the same time), and the frets were crowned and leveled. The result is an absolute tone monster of a guitar. These old H1260s have a wonderfully complex tone, big and round in the bottom end, and warm and bright, without being shrill, up top. It is no wonder that they have long been studio favorites (see: Jimmy Page and "Stairway to Heaven").
Next up was a lovely Giannini Craviola CRA-12S, a 12-string acoustic. The action was a bit high (even for a 12-string) and initially, I had hopes of taking the neck off to give it a full reset. However, this guitar was assembled (or possibly, reassembled at some point) with a non-reversible epoxy and that neck just would not budge (Ovations and Harptones are infamous for this). So, the culprit had to be found elsewhere, and it turned out to be a belly behind the bridge (again, the result of excessive string tension). A JLD Bridge Doctor was the prescription, coupled with light gauge strings tuned a whole step down, and the sweet jangle of that Giannini was returned, this time with a wonderfully playable neck.
Lastly, I worked on an older Harmony Patrician 1407 archtop, which had needed a neck reset for a long time, and which a prior owner had attempted to deal with by cutting the bridge slots lower and lower. Ultimately, all he did was to flatten the break angle to the point where the tone was strangled right out of the guitar. When all else fails, you've gotta do what you should have done the first time. The neck came off, the angle was corrected, the bridge slots were filled and set to the proper radius of the fretboard, and a sweet little archtop was brought back from the brink. It isn't an L-4, but put a DeArmond Rhythm Chief on it and it will be a killer blues or roots machine.
The new year is on us. Resolve to treat yourselves a little better, find ways to relieve that tension in your own life and, when not in regular use, on your stringed friends. They'll thank you for it!
Geoff
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