Lately I have received a slew of requests to repair an instrument so it may serve as a lasting memento to the family member who owned and played it, not as a performance piece.
This requires a different take on both functional repairs
and aesthetic improvements, so I thought I’d follow one recent banjo repair and
restoration job, and offer some observations on the work of making a wallhanger
playable.
We should accord some dignity to the term “wallhanger” and
the banjos to which that term applies.
The designation implies that the banjo does not have what it takes to
sound good and right without major investments disproportionate to the value of
the banjo.
Indeed, that’s the first step required in these instances:
direct and frank assessment of what the banjo is, and what it can be made to be
with some work, as opposed to what it represents intrinsically.
But the people bringing these banjos for “restoration” are
focused on what the banjo was. “My
Daddy’s banjo.” “My Great Great
Grandfather’s banjo.” “An instrument
unearthed in our attic that might have belonged to a family member, but
certainly belonged to someone in this family house.”
On 8 June 2012 a
gentleman named Sam brought a no name, factory made banjo to LBBH. The banjo was quite common in type, and still
widely available in aftermarket sales – resale value 50 – 150 dollars depending
on condition. It was in essentially good
shape. The resonators on these model would
frequently bind to the pot metal flange and distort the banjo rim, but this one
was probably stored with some care in a stable climate/humidity and the
resonator is in good shape – the separation was repairable. Actually, that’s the first clue that an old,
simple and factory made banjo means holds some value for the owner: it was
cared for, stored inside, didn’t live with the livestock in a barn, and shows
none of the rough handling signs of a banjo dumped in a dank closet or stored
in the unbearable heat of an attic.
The friction
pegs needed to be replaced to make the banjo playable; in the end, because the
neck, home made, was real thick at the peghead the new tuners had to be
countersunk. The 5th string
peg was shimmed into the neck at some point and was pretty solid so I merely
changed out the button so it would match the new peghead tuners.
The neck is
fabricated, not uncleverly. The
resonator screwed into a round dowel stick that was soundly seated but not
quite cut to the best effect; there’s a gap between the end of the stick and
the rim at the southern end of the banjo, but the setup was basically sound and
would not result in an appreciable difference in playing terms were the neck to
be reseated. I removed the metal rod
that was bent to form a tone ring, coated it to prevent further oxidation,
removed and reused the flesh hoop, and mounted a new skin – treating it after
it is dry to minimize distortions with weather changes.
This is one of
those old banjos that people frequently ask me to restore as a display item
because of sentimental value. I think these
banjos can be made basically playable – though without a neck reset the action on
most of these banjos would be too high up the neck. However, neck resets on these banjos would
probably have little effect on overall playability. I usually recommend adjusting setup with
either a new nut or bridge choice and, when necessary, neck shimming.
The fact of the matter is that these banjos and their owners
are looking for something that goes beyond this clinical sort of analysis of
what it would take to make one of these machines playable. These owners have bonded with the banjo, or
what it represents, and require something more than just a technical
recommendation on how to make this thing work again. They seem to want to know that these banjos
can be honored, as modest as they are, for what they were and what they
represented to the original owners and players who were usually relatives.
Sam sent me an email partway through the restoration
process:
My eldest son just contacted me with
interest in his grandfathers' banjo … My point Lew is that I'm so very excited
that my son would like to own his grandfathers' banjo and I am more excited
that I [now understand more about] the construction and structure of not only
the banjo but it's history. … I
look forward to seeing your finished work. I will give the banjo to my
son Lew...after I've played it for a while of course. He will be here in
August--so that should be enough time for me. I will only give it to him
with the guidance that if ever it needs repair...he sends it to you.
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