How I began making musical instruments
I started making wind instruments in 1975 while still in
college. I had been introduced to the recorder; and, as a clarinet player, I was
fascinated with its simplicity (no keys and no reed). For some reason I
mistakenly decided it ought to be easy to make one. I took a night course in
woodworking at a local technical college to learn how to run a wood lathe and
read Trevor Robinson's book "The Amateur Wind Instrument Maker." Very quickly I
found myself constantly trying to figure out how various parts of instruments
are made. It was a new experience for me, as I had never made anything in my
life...and I was hooked. As an orchestral string player (viola), I had read a
lot about the mystique surrounding Stradivarius and the other early violin
makers, and somewhere in the back of my mind the dream of becoming an instrument
maker was born.
I wrote a friendly introductory letter to Friedrich von Huene (designer of the
Moeck “Rottenburgh” recorders and one of the best known recorder maker/designers
in the world) and explained that I was making recorders as a hobby. He thought
it unusual that anyone would try this and said he would like to see some of my
work. I mailed him my nicest rosewood recorder and began making plans to drive
to Boston to visit his shop.
When I arrived he explained that I would need to make my own tapered reamers to
get the correct bore on Baroque recorders, and that any maker of fine woodwind
instruments needs to be more a machinist than a woodworker. His shop had several
rooms, one of which was full of about a dozen machine tools. I didn’t know what
they were used for, and I was too intimidated to ask. He showed me one of the
reamers he had made, and to me it seemed impossible to fashion such a tool. When
we got around to talking about an apprenticeship, he said it would require a
four year commitment…not something I could consider while still in college with
a new wife.
I came home partly disillusioned because I had thought recorders are made by
hand. After all, they seem so simple. Somehow the sight of all those machines
took something away from the aura I had imagined. I wasn’t giving up, though. I
took von Huene’s advice to heart, bought a metal turning lathe, took classes in
machine tool technology at another technical college, and read everything I
could get my hands on about machining metal. The metal lathe brought a new
dimension of accuracy to my work, and soon I branched out into transverse flutes
and then xylophones; again, because of my attraction to their simplicity.
After graduating from the University of South Carolina, I took a job teaching
strings (small classes of violin, viola, cello, and bass) in the public school
system and continued making instruments in my spare time. I had all kinds of
instruments lying around the house, and one day my wife said "Why don't you try
to sell some of this stuff at a craft show?" So it was that I first began to
sell my work. After teaching for a few years I found that, more often than not,
I was wishing I could stay home from school and make instruments. Now I realize
that my desire to stay home from school and play probably began during
elementary school.
I left teaching in 1980 hoping to make a living in instrument making. In 1981 I
traveled to Chicago to take an apprenticeship in violin repair at Bein & Fuchi.
At that time they were one of the larger violin dealers in the country. One day
I was watching a worker from the bow department machining tortoise shell on a
milling machine, and I realized that I felt envious. I wanted to be doing his
job. Von Huene had implanted a fascination with machine tools, and I knew that
was the type of work I wanted to do. It was also becoming obvious that the hand
work required in violin making really didn't suit me, and I left after a short
stay.
I came home disheartened, and after considering my options I contacted the
Kelischek Workshop for Historical Instruments in North Carolina. George
Kelischek told me on the phone that there was no way he would hire me, so I
asked if I could come up for a tour of his shop. We made an appointment, and I
brought with me a display case with about a dozen of my flutes. He bought
several on the spot, ordered a couple more, and hired me to make the Mylar reeds
for his crumhorns. Though making the reeds was to be my main job, I also got to
work on crumhorns, Kelhorns, and eventually ocarinas.
I lived in a small apartment in George’s basement and traveled back home on
weekends. At this point my wife and I were both thoroughly confused about where
all this would take us, so she kept her teaching job and ‘held down the fort’ as
I continued my adventures.
Thomas Kelischek, George’s middle son, also worked in the shop, and we became
good friends, often playing ping-pong or recorder duets at night.
One day George came back from a show in Florida and showed me two ocarinas he
had purchased. One was a small clay 4-holer, and the other was a wooden double
by Alan Albright. I had seen a clay 4-hole ocarina before, but I really loved
this wooden double ocarina. George immediately saw the potential market for a
wooden 4-hole pendant ocarina and set out to design one. After showing me his
initial results, he encouraged me to experiment on my own. He gave me access to
his supply of Honduras Rosewood, and in my spare time I made my first ocarinas
in his shop. Meanwhile George, Thomas and I began production (to George’s
specifications) on the first batch of ocarinas to come out of the Kelischek
Workshop. George supervised every stage, but he was already consumed with
designing the injection molded plastic windway/lip inserts that became standard
on his later wooden ocarinas.
That was in the summer of 1981. I left George’s workshop after only three months
because of the basic difference in our temperaments. Once again I felt
disheartened, but this time I finally gave up. I enrolled in a two year program
in a tech school to study electronic engineering. God only knows what I was
thinking. I just figured I had tried my best to pursue my dream and failed, so
now it was time to give in and get some kind of regular job. I knew I didn’t
want to teach, so that meant going back to school to be retrained. I loved
electronics for the first year, because I was fascinated by the mathematics, but
in my spare time I kept making recorders, flutes, xylophones and ocarinas.
During the second year, calculus and transistor theory got the best of me; and
again I was drawn to instrument making as a career. Ocarina sales had increased
to the point that I believed I could make a living at it. I gradually phased out
recorders and flutes over the next few years as my family of ocarinas began to
evolve.
Alan Albright was still making his double ocarinas at that time, and over the
next year I was able to add five different sizes of his instruments to my
personal collection of ocarinas from around the world. I studied them for many
hours, and they were my inspiration as I developed my own preference of ocarina
tone…a pure, sweet sound that speaks effortlessly with just the slightest wisp
of air.
Charlie Hind
