Lonnie Johnson's Mysterious 12 String

My creative spirit feeds off of unusual sounds and images.  I love to try and figure out what kinds of instruments made the sounds on old records and what musicians were photographed with.  The more unusual the instrument and its sound the better.  I am especially fascinated by the instruments that came from small, independent shops. I have puzzled over country music pioneer Ernest Stoneman's Galiano, Willie McTell's Tonk Brothers 12 string, and Lydia Mendoza's Acosta 12 string.  I have eventually made copies of each of those instruments.  In the best case scenarios I've had an instrument to use as a reference.  In the case of Lydia Mendoza's 12 string, I worked with a half dozen photos and interviewed the grandson of the maker to piece together the details for a working plan.  Over the years the greatest mystery for me has been the 12 string that the dapper young Lonnie Johnson was photographed with, in one of the most iconic of all blues images. Unlike Lydia's guitar, which had several photos from several angles, there is only a single photo of Lonnie with his 12. It's difficult to make out details of the guitar as it is overexposed.  The bridge is very distinct.  There is something unusual going on with the headstock, but I had never been able to figure it out.  It's impossible to make out the details of the purfling.   I had read that Lonnie had the guitar custom made in Mexico.  I've always wanted to know where that theory originated?  Who was the maker?  What were the particulars?  Eventually my curiosity and obsession got the best of me and I had to put the nose to the grindstone to figure it out.

Lonnie Johnson was born to a musical family in New Orleans in 1899.  He studied several instruments starting at a young age, eventually settling on guitar.  His recording career started in 1925 after winning a contest for Okeh records.  In general he was pigeon holed as a blues guitarist, though his range extended beyond blues.  He became one of Okeh's best selling artists with his solo recordings and backing artists like Texas Alexander and Victoria Spivey.  In 1929 he made some ground breaking records with jazz guitar pioneer Eddie Lang who used the pseudonym "Blind Willie Dunn" for the sessions as it was not yet socially acceptable for black and white musicians to record together.  These days it seems that Lonnie Johnson is overlooked.  Blues aficionados tend to appreciate players with a harder edge, and jazz fans don't seem to pay him much mind.  Nevertheless Johnson was an incredible, prolific player who was extremely influential for early jazz and blues guitar players.  At the time he was one of the few blues players to play single note leads and frequently bend notes.  You can hear echoes of his playing in T-Bone Walker, Charlie Christian, and with later players like B.B King.  Even in the duets with Eddie Lang, it's Lonnie who seems to be featured, and when Lang steps up for a solo, it sounds like he's playing Lonnie's licks.









The 12 string added an ethereal quality to Lonnie's playing. an airiness as he floats over and around the rhythm.  It's a completely different sound from other 12 strings of the era.  Lonnie didn't tune the 12 string as far down as Willie McTell and Leadbelly, both of whom treated it like a baritone instrument.  He also didn't string it with all 12 strings.  In the photo he has 10 strings, the first two courses are single strings, while the others are doubled.  On most of the recordings it sounds like a 9 string with the first three courses doubled, and the three lower strings are singles. All the doubled strings are tuned in unison and no octave courses are audible.  He likely used this arrangement so as to not muddy up his sound, to focus on the crispness of the treble strings.  On a few recordings it sounds like the guitar is strung with all 12.  You can hear doubled strings as he solos on the bass strings or plays rhythm.  As a guitar maker, I kept coming back to the question, what in the world was that guitar?

The photo of Lonnie with the 12 is on the cover of the marvelous book "Nothin But the Blues" by Larry Cohn, which was first published in 1993. That was really when I first became aware of the guitar.  I had heard that Larry Cohn knew who had made the guitar so I dropped him a line. He was very gracious with his time and he told me that in the 1960's Mack McCormick had told him that a luthier in Mexico had made Lonnie's 12. He did not remember the name of the luthier and was not able to find the letter which Mack had written him. Now I knew the origin of the theory that Lonnie had the guitar made in Mexico, but I wanted to know who made it and what it was.

At one time the baritone 12 string, or guitarra doble, was incredibly popular in Mexican music and in Mexican string orchestras. There were many small shops in Mexico that made 12 strings, and large US factories like Oscar Schmidt made "Mexican 12 strings".  Mike Acosta told me that his grandfather's shop in San Antonio would make a dozen 12 strings followed by a dozen six strings.  The bajo sexto (bass 12 string) came onto the scene in the 1930's, eventually becoming so popular that it outstripped the demand for the baritone 12 string.  By the 1950's  all the Acostas were making were bajo sextos.  Very little, if anything, is known about these smaller Mexican shops and their instruments.  These days they are incredibly rare.  In years of looking for old 12 strings, I have only seen two made in Mexico.  Both bore some resemblance to Lonnie's 12, but his was still very distinct.

Lydia Mendoza in the studio in 1936, photo from the Arhoolie Foundation.

After I made a copy of Lydia Mendoza's 12 string and wrote about the Acosta family who had made her guitar, a few friends asked me if I thought that the Acostas had made Lonnie's guitar? Initially I considered it a possibility but I needed some proof.  Then a friend, Joe Brennen, sent me a quote from a 1960 interview of Lonnie Johnson by Paul Oliver, " I bought that 12 string guitar in San Antonio.......They only make 12 string guitars in San Antonio. The Mexicans and Spanish that's all they use..." That changed everything! Here are the words of the man himself saying that he got the guitar in San Antonio, Texas, and that it was made there. There was only one shop in San Antonio making and selling 12 strings at the time, The Acosta Music Company.

I immediately started measuring the guitar in the photo and comparing it with the dimensions of Lydia's guitar. After I had established a ratio for Lonnie's 12, I realized that it was nearly identical to Lydia's, with one big exception, Lonnie's guitar had a shorter scale. Lydia's guitar had a long 26 1/2" scale, while Lonnie's had a shorter 24 7/8" scale. This shorter scale was unusual for a 12 string at that time, but would explain their difference in tuning. Lydia tuned down 2 1/2 steps to B, while Lonnie only tuned to pitch, or down a step to D. To the layperson the difference in scales would seem very unusual, but as a luthier I realized that if you cut a 26 1/2" fingerboard at the first fret, you get a 24 7/8" scale. It's an old trick used by many shops, small and large, allowing you to make several different instruments with a single fingerboard template (people use capos to achieve this same effect). It was beginning to look like the Acosta's were the makers of Lonnie's guitar. A few more details were coming that would cinch the deal.

Guadalupe Acosta bending sides in 1937 from the San Antonio Light Collection.

Guadalupe Acosta was born into a family of luthiers in Lagos di Moreno, Jalisco, Mexico.  He built instruments with his father and brothers and would eventually pass the craft onto some of  his sons.  He had six children, Domingo, Luis, Francisco Cuca, Miguel, Jesus and Jimmy.  In 1915, during the Mexican Revolution, Guadalupe moved his family north to Nuevo Laredo, Mexico, which is on the border with Texas. Guadalupe went  on to San Antonio, Texas to work as an instrument maker under Teodoro Navarro.  In 1920 his family moved from Nuevo Laredo to join him in San Antonio. That same year he opened the Acosta Music Company in San Antonio. He sold instruments that he made at the store and eventually his sons Luis, Miguel and Jesus came to join him in the business.

Another interesting piece of information came to light, listening to a 1973 interview with Luis Acosta by Chris Strachwitz. As the Acosta Music Company began to grow , Guadalupe was contacted by record companies and asked if he would recommend talent from San Antonio for field recordings that were to be done there.  These types of field recordings started at Okeh Records in 1923, in order to capture types of music which were not available in the New York area.  It was common practice for the record companies to ask dealers of their records or phonographs to act as A&R men.  H.C. Speir played this role for blues players in Mississippi,  Guadalupe and Luis Acosta did for Tejano talent in San Antonio.

Right around this time I had the good fortune to spend a weekend with the great American music historian, record collector and author of the discography Ethnic Music on Records, Dick Spottswood.  I ran the theory past Dick, that the Acosta's had made Lonnie Johnson's 12 string, and he had a brilliant reply that only a discographer would think of.  He told me to look at Johnson's discography, find out if and when he recorded in San Antonio, then look at the first time he recorded with the 12 string and compare the dates

The Mendoza family circa 1930.

As it turns out, the first field recording to be done in San Antonio was by Okeh, at the Plaza Hotel, from March 3rd to 14, 1928.  Among the artists there were Lonnie Johnson and the Mendoza family's Cuarteto Carta Blanca, as well as other Mexican musicians whom the Acostas had recommended.  Lonnie recorded solo and with Texas Alexander on the 9th and 10th, then again on the 13th.  The Mendoza family recorded on the 10th.  I don't know if Lydia's family had her Acosta 12 string yet, but Lonnie was bound to have some contact with a 12 string while waiting around the Plaza Hotel, and with a few days to kill between sessions, with recording money in his pocket, he was bound to end up at the Acosta Music Company.

Figuring out when Lonnie first recorded with the 12 was a bit tougher as distinctions like this aren't in discographies.  I had to listen to recordings and enlist the help of a few friends with good ears (Chris Berry, Allan Jones and Frank Basile).  You can hear vague hints of something that sounds like double courses in a passing phrase on some of Lonnie's early records, but the first session that you can definitively hear the 12 is on November of 1928 in New York, seven months after his San Antonio sessions.  

I return to Lonnie's quote:

" I bought that 12 string guitar in San Antonio.......They only make 12 string guitars in San Antonio. The Mexicans and Spanish that's all they use..."

Now I was relatively certain that it was the Acostas who had made Lonnie's 12.  I was ready to start trying to figure out the details in order to make a copy.  Because there is only a single photo and as the details of the guitar are hard to make out, it may be more accurate to say that I was going to make my interpretation of he guitar in the photo.   I was going to have to rely on clues from other research I'd done on the Acostas, and on Lydia Mendoza's 12 string. For starters, what was going on with the headstock? There's some sort of unusual veneer, but what?

When I was researching Lydia's 12, I interviewed Mike Acosta, son of Miguel and grandson to Guadalupe.  Mike had grown up around the family shop and eventually opened his own music store in San Antonio, which he ran for a number of years.  Because Mike was in the business, he was very knowledgeable about how his family built instruments, the woods they used, the way they braced them, the types of instruments they built.  Mike told me that his uncle Luis (whom Chris Strachwitz interviewed) had once built a guitar out of tiny squares of wood.  He said it was a very unusual thing and hard to explain.  When I asked him what happened to the guitar he said that it had fallen apart but that he still had a piece of it. 

Luis Acosta with his striped guitar, 1940, San Antonio Light Collection

In a 1940 photo from the newspaper, The San Antonio Light, Luis has a guitar which he made out of strips of wood.  The caption reads, "(Luis) spent six hard weeks fitting the tiny pieces into a well toned instrument.  He didn't make it to sell; he just made it for the heck of it.  Woods include black walnut, cottonwood, spruce and mahogany."

I turned this bit of information toward Lonnie's 12.  Could something like this be going on with his headstock?  I found a high resolution copy of the photo and went to work.  With a jeweler's loop I could see that there was a checker pattern going on in the headstock.  I could actually count the rows of checkers and divide them by the overall measurements of the headstock in order to figure out their size.  I started to wonder how Luis may have done this.  

It wasn't a straight checker.  There was more light space than dark.  My friend Taylor Rushing said it reminded him of the number five on a pair of dice. I started gluing and slicing pieces of maple and ebony and playing with the patterns.  I went through a few iterations before I came up with something that I was happy with and that made sense.

I could see that at the bottom of the tuner slots the checker pattern turned to black.  Under magnification you can see a visible ledge where the veneer stops.  My only explanation was that the veneer suffered the same fate as Luis' checkered guitar and had started to fall off between the time the guitar was made and the photo was taken. Lonnie presumably got the guitar in San Antonio in the spring of 1928 , where it would have been hot and humid. Then he took it to New York, where he recorded in the summer and fall.  Had he stayed in New York, the temperature would have dropped as well as the humidity.  The guitar was bound to have had a tough time adjusting to the change.

You can also tell from the photo that the headstock is an odd shape.  There is a radius across the top and the portion above the tuners is slightly wider, so that the tuners are inset.  There also appear to be some notches across the arch of the top.  I made a few drawings of the head before I came up with something I was happy with.

In coming up with the shape for the guitar I was somewhat limited as the guitar is at a slight angle in the photo. From my best estimations after developing a ratio for measuring the guitar, the dimensions of the body were identical to Lydia's. The length of the body, the width of the upper and lower bouts and the waist, where the curves fell in relationship to the body length, all things were equal. I decided to use the form I had come up with for Lydia's guitar rather than make a new one. Lydia's guitar may be slightly curvier than Lonnie's but it is very close. I am very confident of the dimensions.

Fraulini Lonnie Johnson 12 string

It's difficult to tell what types of woods were used in the photo. The top is obviously spruce. The sides are dark. I was again reminded of something Mike Acosta told me when I asked about what types of woods they would use. Mike said that they used mahogany for almost everything, except for the good stuff, for which they would use walnut. I thought that the side wood looked too dark to be mahogany, and because this was the good stuff, I went with walnut. The fingerboard and bridge are black and shiny and appear to be ebony, so that is what I used for the fingerboard and bridge. The neck is magnolia. I know that was a popular wood for bajo sexto makers in San Antonio and I liked the contrast with the back and sides. It fit the checker pattern nicely.

Fraulini Lonnie Johnson 12 string

Fraulini Lonnie Johnson walnut back

One of the very distinct features of the guitar is the bridge.  It is a wide but squat pyramid with six offset pins.  The strings that are doubled share a pin hole.  This is a fairly unusual arrangement.  Because Lonnie's sound is so light and airy, and because a large part of that sound is his bending of notes, I went with light strings with the action on the high side.  The strings range from .010" to .050".  The three treble strings are doubled, while the three bass strings are singles.

It's impossible to make out the details of the purfling and rosette.  You can tell where the lines fall, but not what the lines are.  They appear to be straight lines rather than a mosaic pattern.  Here too I deferred to Lydia's guitar for which I could make out the details from the various photos.  I went with a simple black/white/black line.

This project was extremely enjoyable for me.  It has spanned many years and has presented many cross disciplinary challenges. I'm fairly confident that it was Guadalupe Acosta and his son(s) who made Lonnie Johnson's 12 string.  That alone is a beautiful thing that is uniquely American.  An African American jazz and blues pioneer from New Orleans playing a guitar made by a Mexican immigrant and his sons, picked up in a small shop during a remote recording session in San Antonio.  Then he took it to New York to make some seminal recordings with an Italian American from Philadelphia. If a safe, piano, or heaven forbid an elephant should fall from the sky tomorrow and send me to the other side, I could rest contented that I have completed this project.  

I'm fairly confident that I came close to the mark on my copy.  As with all these types of projects, I would be thrilled if the original came to light and I could see how close or far I came. The true test is the sound.  For that I am not qualified, so I sent it to some friends who were.  Here's Ari Eisinger and Frank Basile playing the Lonnie Johnson and Eddie Lang duet, Bullfrog Moan:

You can find out more about Ari Eisinger at secondmind.com.  You can find out more about Frank Basile here.

Decalomania 6 and 12

Fraulini  Decalomania 6 and 12 strings

 In the early 1900's decorative decals were often used to add a little pizzazz to household objects.  The guitar industry embraced the decal as a way to dress up very plain instruments.  I don't think that any company did this to greater effect than Oscar Schmidt, who used decals to imitate fancy rosettes and backstrips, and to add a touch of class, whether it was with ivy, musical instruments or beautiful ladies.  I've had quite a few of these instruments over the years, and I've repaired a number of them as well.  As they were intended to be budget models the quality can be pretty marginal, but some of them can be quite good for playing country blues or old time music.  For me there has always been a charm that lay behind the decals, in the woods and the ways they were put together.  I've  thought for some time about making some copies of these instruments but a few obstacles stood in the way.  Recently a confluence of events caused me to act and make a few.  I couldn't be more pleased with the results.

Recently I was at a friend's place getting some wood.  An older and very well respected classical guitar builder was there as well, picking up some sets of Brazilian rosewood.  My friend introduced me to the builder, we started talking guitars and we were getting along pretty well.  As we were discussing the finer points of resins used in varnish my friend said, "Todd's the guy who uses white oak for back and sides."  "Oh" replied the older gentleman, as I could visibly see his estimation of me dropping in his mind.  "And he's the guy who ladder braces."  Now I was getting the full stink eye and the fellow slowly started backing away.  He left without a handshake, without a polite goodbye.  Nothing.  That's OK.  I have thick skin.

A young man who was enrolled at a guitar building school came by my shop for a tour.  We were talking about top bracing patterns and he said, "My teacher says that X bracing is structurally superior to ladder bracing."  I told him that his teacher was right, from an engineering standpoint, X bracing makes more sense and is superior,  But what about the sound? Is the sound a consideration?  The argument could be made that solid state is electronically superior to tube technology, but you can't deny that a tube amp sounds better in certain applications.

Charlie Patton's decal Stromberg

I operate in the world of acoustic guitars, a world which is capable of taking itself a bit too seriously at times, losing sight of the big picture.  I appreciate nice wood, I use it a lot of nice woods.  I don't believe in magic wood. I appreciate impeccable craftsmanship, I'm capable of some fairly fine work, I believe that most of the time, craftsmanship trumps wood. What it really boils down to for me is chasing a sound.  Not necessarily the sound of concert halls and conservatories.  Much of the time its a sound that was put down on record with great frequency in the 1920's and 30's, by some poor guy or gal who may have been a blind street musician, a barber, a sharecropper, a mill worker, a coal miner  or a housewife who played at night and on weekends to pass the time.  They played what they could afford, which usually wasn't much, and they played the hell out of it.  The decal guitars sum it all up beautifully, built quickly from lightweight materials, with a time saving, eye catching detail that allowed them to be some of the first mass produced budget guitars.

Wiilie McTell's decal Stella 12

Oftentimes when people describe these guitars they say that the wood is birch.  I had an epiphany at a certain point, working on a decal Stella 12 string, that the back and sides were actually poplar, which was used fairly extensively for necks in the early 1900's.  This isn't to say that some of these guitars aren't birch, certainly many were, but many were also poplar.  Poplar's green hues tend to vanish over time and it ends up looking a lot like birch.  It is lighter in weight than birch and doesn't have the pores, which makes it easier to finish. It takes stain beautifully and doesn't require any pore filling.  It's light color allows it to be stained, painted, or covered with a tinted varnish to give it the look of woods like mahogany.  All of these things were considerations for the guitar factories, whether it was the economy of the material, or in the time it took to finish it.

Decal Stella 12 with poplar back and sides

Poplar is a very misunderstood, humble wood. When some people think of poplar, they think of aspen,  basswood or cottonwood, but the poplar used for guitars was none of these.  It  comes from the tulip poplar, Liriodendron Tulipifera, and is known as yellow poplar, sometimes magnolia (if they're trying to put a shine on it).  The trees grow fast and straight. It is a plentiful and inexpensive wood. It is nice to work, light in weight, fairly strong and very stable.  It is greenish gray in color, not very attractive, never sexy.  It's often frowned on by woodworkers, not so much because of its workablility, mostly because of its appearance.  It's used in residential constructions as paint grade trim. In cabinet making it's considered a secondary wood, again because of it's appearance. it's used for the interior part of a drawer, where stability is important, never for the face.  As a lifelong woodworker, it took me a while to overcome my prejudice and come to terms with the fact that poplar was actually used for necks, bodies, braces, really every part of the guitar. The old "fruitwood" or "pearwood" fingerboard, most likely it's poplar, "ebonized" with acid which causes it to turn black and deteriorate over time.

Leadbelly and Martha with the guitar he played on his LOC recordings

Blind Blake with his Stella

When we think of Leadbelly, we think of his iconic 12 string.  Before he had that guitar, he had a big Stella, probably poplar, which he played while he was in prison.  That's the guitar he played on his Library of Congress field recordings.  It was beat up and covered with stickers.  It sounded great, but John Lomax, who would bring Leadbelly around to wealthy patrons to raise money, hated the guitar because it looked shabby.  After searching for months Lomax finally found Leadbelly's fancy 12 string, at a New Jersey furniture store.  The poplar one probably got thrown in the trash.  Willie McTell is pictured with a big decal Stella 12 in one of his earliest portraits.  I'm fairly certain that guitar was poplar.  Blind Blake's guitar, while it doesn't have a decal, may be a poplar Stella (judging from the dark finish and lack of ornamentation).

Fraulini decal 12 string

The combinations of all these things, snooty luthiers, old photos, old guitars, old sounds, facts etc. have made me want to build an all poplar decal guitar for quite some time. After a summer of building some very fancy, ornate instruments, I was ready for a palate cleanser.  First I had to overcome some obstacles. Because you can't readily order poplar guitar sets, that meant I had to saw the wood myself.  That's not a big deal, I'm used to sawing my own wood for guitars.

The biggest hurdle was the  artwork for the decals.  Also I wanted a stamp made in order to press my name into the headstock.  My friend Gary Powell hit it out of the park in the art department.  Gary scanned some decals from an old Stella guitar and mandolin.  He vectorized the original artwork and reimagined the colors, seeing behind the dark varnish and patina, and bringing back some of the colors which had faded over the years.  He added a special touch to the original decal design by replacing one of the women's heads with that of my grandmother, using a portrait of her drawn by R.Crumb.  We also used the Crumb Fraulini script to make a stamp for the headstocks.  After the logo stamp is pressed into the wood of the headstock, I carefully painted it with gold metallic paint.  Gary did an incredible job in record time.  I would've been sunk without him.  I joked with him that this was going to be called the "Gary Powell Model" as he's also one of the best all around musicians I know.

Fraulini Logo stamp

Ladies in repose and rosette decals

My approach for this round of guitars was to try to stay close to originals.  I wanted to use poplar for all the parts of the instrument, build them with the same bracing patterns, use hide glue and finish them with varnish.  I didn't want to fuss over them.  I wanted to build them relatively quickly, not carelessly, and not dwell on the finish. The guitars came together fairly smoothly.  I had some downtime getting the decals printed, and there is a bit of a learning curve to applying them, especially the rosette decal, which is going on over a rather large hole in the top.  I'm very happy with the way that they turned out.  They are a little louder than the old ones, with a more dynamic sound,  I likely take a little more away from the braces than the old guys.  While I made them quickly for me, I don't think it compares to how fast the old ones were built. The frets are modern, medium sized, more comfortable and more forgiving than what was used on the old guitars. The saddle is compensated so it plays in tune better than the old ones, and it is made of bone, rather than fret material or celluloid, They are extremely light in weight (one of the six strings is only 2 lbs 12 oz! the 12 is 4lbs 2 oz.).  They have lots of volume and a very distinct old time tone.

One of my goals with these guitars was to have something to offer which was more affordable than my custom instruments..  They are well made, no frills instruments which have an old soul.  They are perfect for people who play old style blues or hillbilly music who are looking for that sound, but don't want to deal with the maintenance of an old guitar.  If you are interested in one of them, contact me at todd@fraulini.com.

A very special thanks to my friend John Battaglia who provided me with the original decal Stella which I used as a reference for the art work.  John was also instrumental in connecting me with the company that made the logo stamp.  Also to Neil Harpe, who gave me a good primer on the process of printing decals.  Finally, here's Leadbelly, playing the guitar he had when John and Alan Lomax found him, which he used on his Library of Congress recordings, and a couple clips of myself playing the new ones:

The Fancy Italians

Much of my work has been influenced by the work of Italian immigrant luthiers who worked at the early part of the 20^th Century. Initially I was drawn to the work of the Italians who worked at the Oscar Schmidt factory who built Stellas, Sovereigns and other brands. Later I became fascinated by the Italians who worked in small shops, either by themselves or with a few other people, at times with their family. These men came from Naples, Sicily, Campania and Tuscany, some had been trained as instrument makers while others were cabinet makers. They set up shops in New York's Little Italy, Italian Harlem, Brooklyn, and Staten Island,  and in Boston, Philadelphia, and Chicago.   Their work has been largely overlooked by collectors and historians. These luthiers and their instruments were the synthesis of Italian traditions and American progress. They largely built steel string flat tops and mandolins.  A few  who were active into the 1930's built arch top guitars and violins.  They were the men who preceded John D'Angelico, and some of them were very instrumental in his development.

Over the years I have collected as many of these Italian-American instruments as is possible. I have done restorations and repairs on quite a few, and I have done a fair amount of research on the history of the builders, looking through historic documents, and at times contacting their families.

This summer I built three guitars which were reminiscent of the higher end work of these builders. From fairly straight copies, to combining elements from different builders, to my own designs based on their work.  All of the guitars were built in a similar manner to the originals, with hide glue and  varnish finish.  All parts are made by hand, in house, including the purflings and pickguard materials.  All of the inlays are hand cut.

Nick Lucas with his Galiano.

#1. Fenezia six string- This guitar is based on the work of Raphael Ciani and Antonio Cerrito.  It is similar to the Galiano guitars played by Ernest Stoneman, Nick Lucas and Andy Sanella.  For the most part I borrowed elements from different guitars of Ciani and Cerrito, the body shape, bridge, pickguard, purfling and inlay patterns.  For a while I've wanted to make a headstock with a finial, something which was often used on Neapolitan mandolins, and which D'Angelico used on his archtops.  I had never seen something similar on a flat top guitar and figured it was overdue.  I have a Ciani mandolin in my collection with an ivory finial, so I modified the shape of the mandolin headstock for a slotted guitar peghead.  I carved a finial on my lathe out of cow bone rather than ivory.

The top is a very tight grained spruce, the back and sides are Indian rosewood.  Ebony fingerboard and mustache bridge.  The guitar is ladder braced with a 26 1/2" scale.  It is tuned down a full step from a regular guitar with light gauge strings.  The guitar has a tremendous sound.  It's very powerful and resonant.

 #2. Fenezia 12 string- This instrument was a collaborative work with my customer.  It was influenced by Ciani and Cerrito and also by Giovanni Favilla among others. It  is a big bodied 12 string with a 26 1/2" scale, tuned down to B.  The top is very old German spruce, the back and sides are Tasmanian blackwood, the fingerboard and robust mustache bridge are ebony.  It has a very warm and rich tone and is a joy to play. I also made a hardshell case for the guitar.

#3 Angie six string- This guitar was largely my own design, it was influenced by Rocco Mango, Phillip Interdonati, and the DeLuccia family.   Interdonati and the DeLuccia's made some of the finest instruments of all the Italians.  Interdonati's instruments are extremely artistic and are a glory to behold at all angles. The DeLuccia family worked in Philadelphia and were more influenced by Martin than any of the other Italian builders.  Their instruments are very well made and tasteful. This guitar is an X braced 000 with a very tight grained spruce top and mahogany which came from an old bar. The fingerboard is Brazilian rosewood and the bridge is ebony.  The scale is 25 3/4".  I used a red and green herringbone which I made a few years back.  Martin used a similar purfling in the 1890s and I thought it gave an appropriate nod to the Italian flag.  This guitar is exceptionally rich and elegant in tone.

Making a Case for Making a Case

 Guitar cases are an essential commodity for a guitar builder.  Standard size cases can be purchased fairly easily, for a reasonable price.  If you make an instrument that doesn't fit into a standard case, your options are to have a case custom made, or to retrofit an over sized case.  I have a few models that don't fit into standard size cases and require custom cases.  I've had custom cases made by a variety of manufacturers and for one reason or another have not been satisfied, either with the case or with the service.  I've retrofitted some over sized cases but was not completely satisfied with the results.  One thing led to another and I started asking myself, "How hard can it be to make a case?"  It's been on my list of things to do for a while and I set a goal to make one by the end of our long Wisconsin winter.  I recently finished and my first case and it was a completely fulfilling experience.

During the golden age of guitar building there were several case manufacturers, Geib, Lifton and Harptone were a few who made beautifully crafted cases.  I have a few of these vintage cases which I've acquired with old instruments. I've always admired their fit and finish, and the fact that they are lightweight but still manage to offer good protection.

When I started building guitars, the Harptone company was still around and I ordered a few cases from them for my small bodied, long scale Angelina 12 string.  I found Harptone to be a pleasure to deal with.  I didn't have to wait long to get the cases that I ordered, and their price was very reasonable.  Not long after that Harptone was bought out by a large case manufacturer.  The next time I had to order some custom cases I ordered them from this company.  I found this to be the antithesis of my Harptone experience.  The price had increased significantly, though it was still reasonable, but the wait was a killer.  Initially I was told that there would be a six week wait, which  is reasonable.  After I hadn't heard from them in six weeks, I waited a couple weeks and called.  I was told that they had a stitching machine down and it would be two more weeks.  Two weeks came and went and still no cases.  I'll spare you all the details, but it took about six months to get my cases.  Maybe it was the former project manager in me, but I have very little patience for suppliers who can't accurately predict their lead time.  Also, at the time I was starting out as a guitar builder and really needed to get paid for the guitars I had built for my customers.  Without a case I couldn't get paid.  The whole thing was also making me look bad, each time I was told "two weeks"by the case company,  I would tell this to the customer, only to have both of our hopes dashed two weeks later.  I knew the reality of the situation was that my 2-3 custom cases were being kicked down the line for a major manufacturers 100- 1000 case order.  I fell for this twice.  The second time I ended up shipping the guitars in over sized cases, then when the custom cases came in, I shipped them to the customer.  So, in the end, I had to buy two cases and pay for twice the shipping.  I considered this a horrible option and decided that I would never order a custom case from this company again.

My next step was to move to a company headquartered in my great state of Wisconsin.  I ordered a few cases and the lead time and price were both reasonable.  I found their service to be very good and I remarked that when the cases were done, I'd like to pick them up and check out the facility.  I was then told that the cases were not built in Wisconsin, that they were made in Costa Rica.  I was a little disappointed about that as I like to buy things that are made in the U.S. when possible.  Nevertheless, the cases did come on time and they were well made.  In the end though I found them to be on the large side and a little clunky.  The size of these cases, and an incident where the crushed velvet interior imprinted into a varnish finish eventually caused me to explore the next option.

My last move was to start retrofitting over sized dreadnought cases.  I would use a 4 1/2" block of foam, cut it to the shape of the interior of the case, cut out the shape of the guitar body, then cover it with material that best matched the interior of the case.  This option didn't require much lead time and was reasonable in terms of price, but I wasn't completely happy with it.  It did give me a taste of upholstering, and started the wheels turning about making a case for myself.  I put it on the list of things to learn, along with making my own tuning machines (though infinitely more approachable), and set the goal to make a case over the winter.

Another thing has happened in the case world that gave me an extra kick.  Cases that I was getting stock were getting harder to acquire.  For years I've ordered Canadian made cases from a local distributor.  Recently the Canadian company was acquired by the same large American company who acquired Harptone years ago and who I had such difficulties with.  My local distributor was no longer able to get these cases, prices increased by 30%, and I was told that some case sizes, which I had been getting for years, were no longer available.  My only option for these sizes was Chinese made cases.  I tried the Chinese cases years ago but stopped when a customer informed me that all of the latches were coming off his Chinese case because the material the rivets were made of was too soft to hold the latches in place.

As winter was waning I realized I had to get on the project.  I have a couple orders for guitars that will require custom cases and would like to send them out in something I was satisfied with.  It was time to take matters into my own hands.

One of the bonuses of making my own case was that I could make them any way I liked.  As with my guitars I looked toward the past, back to the old Geib and Lifton cases that I had in my collection.  I started to draw up a plan for the case I wanted to build.

Case mold with bent ribs

The next step was to figure out how I was going to build it.  For this I looked at the old cases, looking at places where the fabric had worn away, trying to decipher what the materials were and trying to envision the process.  I spoke with some woodworker friends about  bending veneers and plywood.  I looked into getting 1/16" veneers, which is what was used on the old cases, but they are not easy to come by and the ones I did see were quite pricey.  I looked into bending plywood, but didn't find it to be very stable.  I settled on 1/8" Baltic birch plywood, which was readily available, had adequate flexibility, but also had the rigidity I was looking for.  I found that it was used by skateboard makers and also experimental aircraft builders, and  that it bent like a dream with heat.  Laminating two layers of the 1/8" ply would give me a finished thickness of 1/4".  It would give me a nicely protective shell.



Now that I had figured out my material for the shell, I had to figure out my process for making it.  I did some searching on the web and came up with a website by Steve Kirtley, which is dedicated to vintage musical instrument cases.  In addition to providing histories of the companies, Steve provides examples of case repair and outlines how to make vintage inspired case.  The arching of the top of the case was especially puzzling and intimidating to me.  Initially I was thinking of using a vacuum press for this step, but a skateboard making friend assured me that a vacuum press would not provide adequate pressure, that I had to use a male and female mold with lots of clamping pressure.  Steve shows his process for doing this on his site, making a mold for arching the top, using particle board for the positive part of the shape, and using plaster or Paris to cast the negative part of the mold.  The thing I really love about this process is that it does not require any fancy woodworking equipment, other than a bunch of large clamps.  It is relatively low tech, but beautiful, from a craft perspective.

Die for arching the case top

Clamping the arch into
the case top.

Gluing the shell together on the go bar deck.

Finished shell

I contacted Steve Kirtley as I was working on the shell.  I had many questions for him the further I dug into the project.  I was wondering about materials, hardware, process etc.  Steve suggested that I post the questions on a Facebook group that he started, Vintage Musical Instrument Cases, and suggested that the open forum could help me through the process.  As things came up, and as I completed different stages of the case, I  posted photos and questions on the group and everyone was supportive and helpful.  It was a great resource for me and I thank everyone there for their input.  I especially thank Steve for being open with information and resources.

Finished case exterior

As I got the shell together, my thoughts started moving on to the upholstery.  I had a little experience from relining cases, but in the scheme of things it didn't add up to much.  For the exterior, I was looking for something that matched the material on the old cases.  I ended up getting some upholstery material from a local fabric store.  Initially I tried to adhere the material using contact cement, but I couldn't take the fumes and it was causing my material to curl up into itself.  On Steve's advice, I switched to using a water based contact cement.  The fumes from this were minimal and it really worked great for adhering the material to the shell.  In hindsight, and on Steve's suggestion, I will use Tolex material in the future.  It's made for this application and has several advantages over standard upholstery material.

Butterfly hinge

Old style latch

After I had completed the exterior I had to find the hardware.  I found some nice butterfly hinges on ebay, similar enough to the old style ones.  I opted for more traditional latches over the drawbolts which are used on more modern cases.  These were a bit of a challenge to find, but I found some that work well enough from G&G Quality cases, who manufactures cases in Los Angeles for Fender.  G&G also has nice handles for a good price.  They're not the cool old style banana handles, but they are good looking leather handles cost half the price of a banana handle.  It worked well enough for my prototype.  All of the hardware is attached with split rivets.  There is a definite learning curve on the proper way to use a split rivet.  Again, I turned to Steve Kirtley's site, which offers a nice illustration of how to use them.

Finished case interior. 

For the interior of the case I opted for purple flannel, which was the material used on the majority of vintage cases I have.  I really like the look of the purple, and prefer flannel over crushed velvet, which I've had some problems with in the past, imprinting into my varnish finishes. An upholsterer friend warned me that flannel was going to be a challenge to work with, that it would show every crease and wrinkle.  He said this was the reason that most of the companies used crushed velvet or "fun fur", because these materials were much more forgiving than flannel.  I'm never one to back down in the face of a challenge, so I went with the purple flannel.  It was challenging to work with, but with the help of an iron and my wife, it was very doable.  There is certainly room for improvement, but I'm very glad that I used the flannel and will work to refine my technique on future cases.

So I have successfully finished my first case.  For me the process was nearly as satisfying as building a new guitar.  I really enjoyed deconstructing the old cases and figuring out ways to work through each challenge as it presented itself.  Overall I'm quite happy with the way that it turned out.  There is some definite room for improvement and I look forward to refining the process, and finding the best sources for material and hardware.  Economically it may not make the most sense in the world, at least at this point.  But, having ruled out the custom cases that are available, and as stock cases get harder to come by as companies further standardize, it makes more sense for a guy that doesn't make "standard" stuff, to make his own case.  I know of few guitar builders who are satisfied with the cases that are available to them, and I encourage them to give case making a try.  It's certainly not easy and requires much dedication and persistence, but in the end it is well worth the effort.

During this whole process I was reminded of a story the great archtop builder Bill Moll once told me.  He was growing frustrated with his case maker who he had worked with for years.  The lead time kept increasing on the cases and he was getting bumped for bigger customers.  He voiced his frustration to the case maker who's reply was, "If you don't like it, make your own cases."  Bill, not being a guy to back down to a challenge did just that.  He now makes some of the best cases in the business, for his guitars.

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