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"Many violins carry a label, 'Stradivarius,' on the inside, and this is what gets so many people excited over their possible ownership of the real thing. This simply means that it is a copy (reasonably good or otherwise) of the famous violins, but not by the master. Whether it is a faithful copy carefully made by hand, or one put together in assembly-line fashion in some big output factory like the one in Mittenwald, Germany, the violin making capitol today, an experienced woodworker can soon tell even if he does not 'hear' one note from the other. But many old violins, and those with other labels bearing names of masters like Carlo Berganzi, Klotz, Stainer, Chanot, Villaume and Banks can be rebuilt into valuable instruments—here is where I come into the picture. I pick up old violins and see how close I can come to producing a really good violin and price it accordingly.

A member of the Austin, Minnesota, fire department, Lawrence Dewey works irregular hours and thus finds time to indulge in this highly specialized manifestation of his favorite hobby—working with wood, especially good wood. It was his commendable reputation in this field that once prompted a friend to take his violin to him to be repaired. This happened about twenty years ago and served as the genesis of Operation Stradivarius. Dewey admits that he could probably do a better job on this friend's violin today with the knowledge he has accumulated through practical experience as well as through study and investigation.

THE THRILL of working on the fine wood of his friend's violin so intrigued Lawrence Dewey that he soon found himself asking other acquaintances and his relatives if they happened to have old violins in their attics or around the house some place. Many did and were willing to sell them for as little as $5 or $10. As he learned more about remaking violins, Dewey scouted secondhand stores, attended auctions, watched for advertisements in collector's and antique magazines, and talked with everyone he could who knew anything at all about violins.

Dewey doesn't hesitate to strike up a conversation with anyone with a violin. "I just happened to see a Mexican field worker carrying two violin cases down the street in Austin," he recalls. Anyone else would probably have thought the fellow was on his way to play for a Saturday night shindig, but I approached him and it turned out that he wanted to sell both instruments. I gladly paid him his price, which was less than I had dared to dream for, and put this down as my lucky day. Both were pretty beaten up violins, but one did have pearl insets in the tail piece and in the pegs. Both had possibilities because they were old, the backs quarter-sawed and made in two pieces, not cracked, and were fairly heavy.

The sources of old violins are still the same, and many of Dewey's Sundays are spent tracing down the whereabouts of a violin. As word gets around of the excellence of his work, his plan for improving the violin, he has no trouble in either buying or selling.

Like Aladdin in his sales call to give new lamps for old, Dewey would be glad to trade you a new violin for an old one. It is an axiom among violin makers and players that their instruments must be tempered for rich, mellow tones, and aging in a case would not produce the same effect—it must be played. The violins remade by Dewey improve with a few months' playing, and they are not at their prime immediately after he has worked on them although they were old, tempered wood when he began on them. Then, too, the violin making realm has not escaped streamlined methods, volume sales attempts, and production for effect rather than love of detail. Most low-priced violins made today are not of the same good wood as those of yesteryear but are likely to be of coarse-grained wood which has been artificially aged and will never produce proper resonance. Because they are made of the thinnest wood it is impossible to scrape down or regraduate their measurements to the specified charts. Older violins are of heavy wood and offer enough to work on for proper matching graduations.

Besides discovering one that is old or carrying a label denoting it to be a copy of a master, Dewey likes to find a violin that has a back made of two pieces of quarter-sawed maple. Here lies the explanation of why he does not try to work with Japanese made instruments. They have one-piece backs, and the wood available in Japan is not responsive to the requirements for good tone quality. The top is most desirable when of fine-grained wood—mountain grown spruce, preferably. The violins made in Italy from its native wood have all the natural qualities demanded of a good violin, and this is one of the factors in making that country the source of fine violins, the locality that produced many master violin makers and genuine masterpieces. Fancy pegs, inlaid with pearl or with carving can carry a higher price because of hand work involved, but these appeal to collectors rather than musicians for they add nothing to the tone. Dewey says that after a little experience in examining, anyone interested in woods can learn to evaluate this type of material.

IT SEEMED obvious to Dewey that if the very pinnacle of his ambitions was to make superior violins he must find out what made the masters' creations that way.

It was comparatively simple to find out about the features that made the identification of a Stradivarius—the scroll, the angles of the carving of the head and other apparent details. But the most important basic requirement of a good violin as with anything else built by man from a house to a wooden whistle, is the initial scale, or relationship of measurements of the whole thing. If this is right the details can be worked out afterwards. But where does a violin worker get such a scale or plan?

"I wrote several book companies," related Dewey, "before I located what has come to be my 'bible,' 'Violin Making, As It Was and Is,' by Edward Heron-Allen; (This book is now listed by William Lewis and Sons, 30 East Adams, Chicago 3, Illinois. Other useful books available are listed at the end of this article.) In addition to historical and theoretical information, this book contains plans to scale for different masters' violins for each different year they were made. Experts like Stradivarius, Guarnerius, Amati and others varied their plans different years. It might have been only ¹/24 inch here or perhaps ¹/32, but it changed the tone of the instrument and perhaps the combination of different measurements was more desirable.

Later on, Dewey discovered another handbook on Stradivarius violins which also helps him in learning the exact measurements of these perfect instruments. This one is "You can Make A Stradivarius Violin," by Joseph V. Reid. Actually he rarely makes a move with his scraper without consulting either one or both of these text books, but he does acknowledge that he has a chart of measurements of Stradivarius, Guarnerius, Amati, Berganzi, Klotz, Stainer, Chanot, Villaume and Banks. This shows fractional measurements for these makes for each part.

"When you keep your ears cocked for violin information it is amazing what you pick up." Dewey says, "I heard about an old violin maker, a really good one who didn't live too far from Austin, so I went to see him and talk shop."

The old man was so favorably impressed with Dewey's serious interest in making violins that he offered to let him copy his measurement chart. The fact is that conscientious makers are concerned over the future supply of good violins for now it is predominately an old man's art and not enough younger men are following the apprentice method of learning expert violin making. In the past, violin making was learned only by apprenticing and such information as is included in the charts was passed on by teacher-to-pupil method. Many processes were never let go to another so when the master died the method was lost to the world.

STARTING OUT with a violin he has bought from a second-hand store—say, for $5, Dewey first removes the top and checks the general pitch by balancing the top on a cork at the position of the sound-post and stroking the edge with a regular violin bow. The sounding-post is such a vital part that it is often called the "soul of the violin," and adjusting this for the desired tone quality amounts to raising or lowering it. Each instrument presents an individual problem, and reference to his text books as well as experimentation help Dewey to carry out this important step.

"A pair of violin maker's calipers is the most used tool I have," Dewey says. "You can get these and other tools you'll want from violin maker's supply houses such as Lyon & Healy, Wabash at Jackson, Chicago 4, Illinois or the Wurlitzer Company, 120 West Forty-second, New York 42, New York. The calipers are used to make accurate, minute fractional measurements such as ¹³/16 inch, or ⁵/32 and sometimes ³/32. The minute I get a violin apart I start checking the slope or graduation of the top and the bottom of it against my charts and plans. If my pick-up violin conforms closest to the line and the details seem more nearly like a model of a Stradivarius made in 1716, then I set out to achieve a graduation of the curve of the top and bottom of the master's chart for that 'edition.' "

Obviously, the top and bottom must be worked down from the same pattern. Readjusting these measurements is done with a violin maker's metal scraper and this is most meticulous work. A single stroke may take off too much, as painstaking woodworkers will know, or since the scraping down is done on a curve, an unchartered move may split the wood and a top or a bottom is lost to posterity. Constant checking and rechecking of measurements is necessary and it is painstaking work, but the stakes are high. Accurate regraduation is the major factor in pushing the $5 violin into the three figure class. An expert job with proper adjustment of parts has yielded Lawrence Dewey a violin for which he is justified in asking, and getting, from $100 to $200.

In gluing the top and back to the sides, Dewey uses a special violin glue purchased from one of the companies specializing in such supplies. He warns against anything that is not specifically prepared and recommended by reputable concerns. It is an acknowledged fact that the formula used by a master varied with each man, but from a practical standpoint this Austin master depends upon the quality of a high-grade, prepared product. He must heat this glue in a double boiler and he then applies it to a small section at a time as it sets up almost immediately. Clamps are necessary to hold the parts in place after gluing. Since he uses as many as fifty he has made these himself by cutting small wooden spools (about 1½ inches in diameter and one inch long) and putting one on each end of a four-inch bolt, backed by a matching round of leather on the violin side. Placed on the glued section and tightened by a wing-screw, he allows the glue to set up to forty-eight hours. Thus Dewey can guarantee a glue job and be sure he is safe.

Pegs and holes must be adjusted and from his same source of supplies, Dewey ordered a peg cutter which is an instrument which operates on the same principle as a pencil sharpener. The accompanying tool, a peg reamer, trims out the hole and it looks something like a metal pencil with a tool handle. With these two instruments he is able to fit the peg and hole so that there is no rubbing nor any slipping,

THERE ARE about seventy parts to a violin and all must be in proper position to produce a tone that is going to justify the upped price. The conventional handling is shown in the text books constantly referred to by Dewey, but many players have particular requests and if the violin is being rebuilt for one person Dewey must find out what the individual wants before he works on the violin. Most women, for example, want a narrow finger board. In the case of Dewey's oldest son, John, the bridge has to be raised higher than usual to compensate for the great force with which he comes down with his bow arm. This compensation produces a mellow, pleasant tone rather than a harsh one resulting from a heavy stroke.

Varnish for violins is a study in itself and there is much information available on making your own. Again, Dewey relies on reputable supply houses for his needs. However, he has adapted some practices based on his experiences—some disastrous, some most gratifying. He never completely removes the varnish as a precaution against destroying the aged effects of the original filler. He uses a prepared cleaner before applying the seven coats of oil varnish, and each one of these is rubbed down with rotten stone, an abrasive, before the next is put on. He does this job in a dustless room and waits for advantageous weather conditions (little humidity, for example).

Cracks are the greatest hazard that can beset a violin. Only an actually splintering accident is more detrimental. Dewey never buys a cracked violin with the plan of rebuilding it. He buys it only for some particular part such as unusual tail piece, decorative pegs, etc. However, many parents bring him cracked violins used by their children and insist the crack be fixed. He has done this very satisfactorily by cutting down the top edges of the crack and gluing tiny pieces of wood at right-angles on the underside. This holds, but does nothing to enhance the tone of the instrument, and comes under the heading of "emergency treatment."

"I know men who keep busy repairing cracks, gluing, refinishing, adjusting pegs, bridges and other parts," says Dewey, "and it is an active business especially where there is a strong music program in the schools. They may run an advertisement for their services in the daily paper, tie up with local music stores, or work through the music instructors and get all the work they can handle in their spare time.

"But I am not competing with these fellows—I like to call myself a reproducer, with very high, probably unattainable goals; anyway, I find myself engrossed in seeing how close I can come, and I am showing more results all the time."

DEWEY CURRENTLY has on hand about twenty violins. He does not offer them for sale to anyone until he is satisfied his regraduation work, adjustments, and finishing are the very best he can do. This is his advertising program. He has entered an exacting business and he intends to turn out the same kind of workmanship whether the violins are for playing purposes or collections.

Through his habit of buying old violins, consulting with those concerned with them—music dealers, teachers, individual musicians, violin makers in his vicinity, Dewey's light is far from hidden under a bushel. Nor does it take a detective operating from supply houses he patronizes to figure out what he is doing, and scouts from these places, constantly on the prowl for good violins, are regular visitors here.

"Why some parents expect their children to produce music on a bad violin is more than I know," Dewey asserts. "When I have a parent-customer I feel real good about it because I am sure a student with a good violin will keep a lasting interest in playing that instrument. Then, too, many adult musicians are amazed at what they can do on a properly graduated violin once they try one. Even a symphony violinist couldn't produce on some of these 'cigar boxes' some people are trying to use today."

Nor are all of Dewey's violins sold for playing purposes. Many people with an interest in music in general collect violins and some of his may be "items" for such collectors. By the mystical method of exchange of information practiced by this group Dewey has become a supplier for these antique collectors. For example, he came across a Norwegian-made violin that has a carved dragon head. This is a, beautiful piece, and he has been offered as high as $300 for it. Another he still has not let go of is a double strung violin, a genuine Handwinger. The lower stringing is intended to resound and give the effect of two violins being played. This is a valuable item and should bring him around $200.

BOTH OF Dewey's sons play violins, and John, who was concert master in his junior high school orchestra, has a lot to say about the desirable tone of each violin. Mrs. Dewey plays a reworked cello and the other son one of his father's masterpieces. While they have the opportunity to tryout all the violins their father has on hand, the boys find each one has a certain character, and they use the same one until the personality of another appeals more to them. Textbooks on violin making recommended by Dewey are:

"Violin Varnish and How To Make It," by George Foucher.

"Violin Making, As It Was and Is," by Edward Heron-Allen.

"Violin and Cello Building and Repairing," by Robert Alton.

"The Varnishes of The Italian Violin Makers," by George Fry.

"You Can Make A Stradivarius Violin," by Joseph V. Reid.