Symphonies & Scorpions: Tools (and Tricks) of the Trade
WELCOME! THIS IS THE FOURTH DAILY INSTALLMENT OF SYMPHONIES & SCORPIONS: AN INTERNATIONAL CONCERT TOUR AS AN INSTRUMENT OF CITIZEN DIPLOMACY. I INVITE YOU TO READ THE ENTIRE BOOK, ONE DAY AT A TIME, FOR FREE, OR YOU CAN PURCHASE THE BOOK IN ITS ENTIRETY, IN PAPERBACK OR KINDLE, HERE. ENJOY!
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Tools (and Tricks) of the Trade
Sunday, April 13
After breakfast, I call Ronan to see if there are any breaking developments. He tells me the orchestra is still in a holding pattern.
In the meantime, I need to make sure that the fiddle I’ve decided to travel with is good to go, which is not as simple a task as it may seem. My gem of a violin, made by the Neapolitan maker Joseph Gagliano in 1785, is at the moment lying like a patient etherized on a table, dissected into myriad body parts while undergoing painstaking restoration by the Salt Lake City luthier, Peter Prier, and won’t be ready until the end of the summer. (Sadly, Peter passed away in 2015. His restoration of my Gagliano was his final project.) My “second” instrument, which I’ve had since high school, was made by Ansaldo Poggi, one of the greatest 20th-century Italian makers, but is currently on the sales block and unavailable. My modern Cremonese violin, a very fine instrument that I commissioned by the accomplished luthier Niccola Lazzari when I lived in Italy in 1998, has a wonderful sound—yes, the legendary Cremonese sound—but I’ve never gotten totally comfortable with its proportions. Even a fraction of a millimeter here or there can cause a left-hand injury, and I don’t want to risk that, especially on tour. Then I have a terrific “No Name” violin that I found in an antique store and had been restored by Mr. Prier, which various experts have postulated was made in the late 19th century in Germany, Italy, or England—take your pick.
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My Terry Borman violin
After careful consideration I’ve decided to travel with an excellent instrument I commissioned from the American violinmaker Terry Borman in 1992. Terry has become recognized as one of the best contemporary makers, and I’m fully confident it is up to BSO standards. One of its strengths is its adjustability to varying climates with no discernible drop-off in quality or ease of playing. I’ve broken in a new set of strings I put on the Borman a few days ago. We’re good to go.
A few days prior I had visited Tim Stephenson, yet another fine Salt Lake luthier, and one of a handful in the field who makes both high quality bows and violins. Years ago, he made a bow for me, a beautiful copy of my rare Francois Peccatte, one of the great 19th-century Parisian makers who, unfortunately for future generations of violinists, died while still in his thirties. I needed Tim to rehair the bow, as the hair had worn out over the course of the year and wasn’t grabbing the violin strings with adequate friction. Tim gave me a choice of Siberian or Mongolian stallion—no, this is not the stage name of a Russian male stripper. One type of hair is grittier, the other smoother. And don’t worry. The hair is cut from the tail; the horse feels no pain. I decided upon a little of each.
A second consideration in the rehair was the change of climate. Going from Salt Lake City, a desert climate, to more humid tour destinations tends to make the hair stretch. Bad news. When that happens, it makes the bow feel like a limp noodle. No matter how much you tighten the screw at the end of the bow you can’t get the hair taut enough. The solution was for Tim to cut the hair about a ¼-inch shorter than usual. That should do the trick.
Since 9-11, nothing about traveling with instruments bigger than a piccolo is easy, but who wants to hear an orchestra of piccolos? Some airlines won’t let you carry instruments onboard, citing size restrictions, even though federal government regulations require them to do so. Sometimes overzealous TSA and airline gate agents give you a hard time…just because, it seems. There are nightmare stories of priceless instruments being mishandled, confiscated, and broken for no valid reason.
Customs agents are the newest members of the Make Life Difficult for the Musicians club. Because violins and bows used to be made with some substances from plants and animals that are now rare and endangered, and are consequently banned for import or export, special documentation is needed to transport instruments from one country to another. For example, the protective tips of old bows were traditionally made of a fraction of an ounce of elephant ivory. The stick of the bow is made out of pernambucco wood grown in Brazilian rainforests. The eyes on the sides of the frog of the bow are often made from mother-of-pearl. Parts of both the bow and violin are ebony or mahogany.
It all makes for a mammoth obstacle course for official transport of instruments internationally. Speaking of mammoths, believe it or not, mammoth bone is a readily available replacement for elephant ivory on bows. Could mammoths have become extinct because Neanderthals were overzealous violin bow makers?
Whether or not this theory is correct, musicians have been wandering minstrels since time immemorial, and the US government has been working with the AFM (American Federation of Musicians, the national union to which most American symphony musicians belong) to hammer out comprehensible, streamlined regulations. The Boston Symphony has tried to remain ahead of the curve with this ever-evolving work in progress, and notified us that they will take care of the morass of international paper work for any musicians who put their instruments in the orchestra’s traveling instrument trunks (as opposed to carrying them on the plane themselves). As the instrument trunks are as solid and secure as Fort Knox, that sounded good enough for me. Nevertheless, I’m making damn sure I have copies of the certificates of authenticity handy that Terry and Tim provided me when I commissioned the instruments.
With all that foresight and preparation, it seemed the BSO had taken every necessary precaution to avoid any major disasters. Nevertheless, we almost had one.
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