Sneaky Leaks and Wonderful Workmanship

I've been recently working on Rudall & Rose 3411, and it revealed a few things that even an experienced restorer might miss.

This flute is in essence a standard instrument of the period, cocus, 8 silver keys, repaired crack in the head (through the embouchure)

One aspect is unusual though. Note that the low C# and C keys, which on R & R flutes are almost exclusively pewter plugs, are here padded cups.

More on that later.

This flute was in generally very good condition, and not only that, it was clear that the work done on the flute was of a high standard. The head crack was beautifully repaired, except that it had failed to return the embouchure to its original shape, as the crack had just been filled, with no attempt to close it. Unusually, the crack had been filled with dark coloured shellac, something that I've never seen before, and even though there was no pinning of any sort, it had remained very stable. There were a couple of other minor and totally resolvable issues, a poorly reattached half of the G# block, and standard padding and joint problems.

The flute, even with the slightly distorted embouchure played quite well, but it was decided to try and resolve the distorted embouchure, by the standard method of pulling the head liner, clamping the crack closed, re-reaming to re-admit the liner, and glueing it in place with epoxy.  This done, the embouchure distortion was still evident, and playability had not improved.

I decided to check for other factors that might be affecting this. One the most commonly missed, although easily found (if that makes sense) problems, is what I've come to call a "Fitzharris" leak.* In essence this is caused by air being able to pass between the head liner and the wood of the head, the air entering this gap when the player blows across/into the embouchure. What makes this type of leak so insidious, is that the effects are very subtle, and it's not easy to detect by the usual methods such as the blow/suck test. In fact in many cases, even a Magnahelic leak detector will not show it.

The only reliable way to detect these leaks should be evident from watching the video here...much easier than trying to explain in words.

Finding the leak is one thing. Doing something about it is another. As with all leaks this involves physically preventing the passage of air from the bore to the outside, but in this case the location of where the leak reaches the outside, essentially at the bottom of the recess into which the protruding barrel liner goes when the slide is closed, makes resolving it a far from simple proposition.

On occasions, it is possible to solve a leak like this by blocking it at the embouchure, particularly where a gap between the liner and the wood can be seen at this point. The idea here is to use low viscosity CA glue and let it wick into the gap. It has to be said that this only works very occasionally.

Otherwise, the idea is to use essentially the same technique to block the leak from inside, the difficulty here being how to get the "blocking agent" to the site of the leak. Here is not the place to describe how this can be done in great detail, suffice to say that access to the bottom of the recess is of overriding importance.

In the case of  R & R #3411 I'm fairly certain that the Fitzharris leak was exacerbated by the crack through the embouchure. Think about it. A crack goes all the way through the wall of the flute. In an attempt at repair, the crack is filled from the outside, but if this is done with a material of too great a viscosity, even if the crack has been pinned, there is every chance of leaving a channel for air to pass between the head liner and the wood of the head at the bottom of the crack.

As I had decided in this case to re-do the crack repair, I had hoped that this in itself would solve the leak, but it was not to be the case. However, I did manage to seal the Fitzharris leak. 

The result of this was disappointing. The flute played marginally better, but certainly not to the level to which I knew it was capable, so now I began to check the whole flute for other issues.

The title of this post implies that there's more to look at here than leaks, and in fact it was in admiring some of the great workmanship on this flute that I came across another unusual problem, the solution of which went a long way to finally getting the instrument back to its full potential.                                                                       I had removed a couple of the double springs to deal with a little rust and dirt that had accumulated around them, and noticed that instead of the normal flat surface underneath the double spring, that whoever was keying the flute...stringing it in flute maker's parlance...had left the spring protrude over a little shelf or step, about 0.2-0.3mm in depth, which formed a fulcrum over which the spring could flex, the idea being, I presume, to make the action of the spring more precise.

 

Note from this image, that the springs are held in place with tiny screws, and of course holes must be drilled in the flute body to receive the screw, which is what we would call nowadays a self tapper.

Having solved the leak in the head, without any great improvement in playability as noted above, I began to look for other sources of leaks, using the Magnahelic leak detector. This device allows the user to detect very small changes in pressure, such as would result from a leaking key for example. I promise that I'll shortly do a post about this type of leak detector, how it works, and how to make one, but for the moment suffice to know that the gauge reads effectively zero if the output of air from it is blocked, as in a closed tube or a non leaking flute, and around 6-7 on an open tube or a badly leaking flute. Interim figures show a flute that is leaking to various degrees. Imagine my surprise then, when I checked the left hand ( upper middle) joint of the flute, and got a figure of 6 on the gauge! Pressing the keys down individually, which will often show which one is leaking had no effect. The keys were removed, and holes sealed with plasticene...and the gauge still read 6. Remember this was a flute that was playing down to the low C,  admittedly not very strongly. Cue some serious head scratching.

There are two other potential sources of leaks, which although rare, and most often found on low quality instruments, I have encountered before. Both of these involve what are supposed to be blind holes, i.e. they don't reach the bore. The first of these is the small hole you can see in the photo here.

This hole holds the small cork bumper which prevents the key clicking against the body of the flute, and is usually situated under the spring rivet. It's normally about 2.5mm in diameter. I've on occasions come across one of these holes which has been drilled too deeply, but given the size of the hole this usually produces a very obvious leak. This needed to be eliminated though, so Plasticene was again employed to seal these holes (the bumpers themselves having been removed) but to no avail - still 6 on the gauge. It was only after I had removed the double springs that I thought of the little holes for the screws holding them in place. Sometimes it's possible to see where a hole like this penetrates the bore simply by looking up the bore against a bright light, when the hole can be seen as a small dark spot against the polished surface, but not in this case. So I tried probing the spring screw holes with a needle, and although the G# was fine, the Bb screw hole allowed the needle point to pass into the bore.                                                                                      

Was this my leak? A small nubbin of Plasticene was soon applied, this time to great effect. I had a different flute in my hand.

Sealing this leak permanently was simply a matter of introducing some CA glue into the hole, Not to the extent that the hole was completely "filled in", letting it harden, and reattaching the double spring with the original screw.

Finally, even though sorting all the non too obvious leaks, had improved the flute immensely, I decided to bush the embouchure, which I did with some nice black horn from our local buffalo herd. This was the final improvement...the flute was back to its wonderful best.

One final observation.

Although there is at least one other flute by Rudall & Rose ( # 1418 ) that has padded C and C# keys, this one, in contrast to #1418 has obviously been modified from original pewter plugs. Here's an image of #1418, where you can clearly see the machined pad seatings under the C and C#.

What I found interesting is that this conversion of the striker plates to accept pads on #3411 has been done in a very sophisticated way. Have a look at this image...

The original striker plate was completely flat, and the seal, when closed, was formed by the taper ( normally 60 deg. ) on the pewter plug, fitting into the similar taper on the striker plate. You can see in the image, that in order to form seating suitable for a pad, that the striker plate has been machined to produce a raised edge that will form the necessary impression on the pad. Note also, that though the screws which hold the striker plate in place impinge on the machined surface, they must have been removed before the seating was machined, and replaced afterwards. It's beautifully done.

I think it came out well.

* Flute virtuoso Tommy Fitzharris came to me with several flutes that had this problem. He figured out this way of demonstrating it. Remarkably, it requires quite a bit of blowing pressure to produce the bubbles, much more than the blowing pressure when playing. Something strange is going on acoustically here.

25 Villiers St.

Attention given to the English 19th century simple system flute, has been to a great extent dominated by the firm of Rudall & Rose, and their later manifestations as Rudall, Rose & Carte, and finally Rudall Carte. (for all interested in this area, Robert Bigio's "Rudall Carte and the Art of the Flute in England" is required reading.)

There is of course, very good reason for this. Their flutes were superbly made, and as astute businessmen they remained at the head of the market from their founding in 1821 until the early 20th century. Along with the great deal of interest that collectors in modern times have shown in these instruments, and the very large number of instruments that they made, and the fact that they successfully navigated the new world of the Böhm flute, their dominance becomes less surprising and thus no surprise that some of the other makers have been ignored or neglected.

In a previous post I talked about how George Rudall set up in business in 1821 with the Scottish maker John Rose, and how before this date, as a teacher, he had flutes made for his pupils by John Willis who was one of the most important and best makers in early 19th century England. At that time I also speculated as to why George Rudall had then begun to have his flutes made by John Rose, who at the time was an unknown maker. With a little more thought I might have realised that John Willis' dates might have given a clue. Born in 1782, he died at the early age of 41 in 1823. Was it possible that Rudall was aware of Willis' potential health problems at this time? Arguing against this is the fact that the Willis workshop continued to produce flutes of the highest quality after John Willis died.

Among which, is the flute that's the topic of this post, belonging to Garry Walsh, who has kindly allowed me to feature it here.

An experienced eye would immediately place this instrument in the same group as those that Willis made for George Rudall.  The overall lines, and particularly the silver sheathed cap and foot end are characteristic. With this one though we can be sure that it is a Villiers St. product. 

But the stamp initially suggests otherwise...

...as it clearly reads.

FENTUM

78 STRAND

LONDON

1240

The mark above though, is revelatory. This is the "Villiers St. lyre" which appears on very many flutes made in the Villiers St. workshop. Not all flutes made at no. 25 have this stamp, but all that have it were made there.

The attribution to Villiers St. is, in this case, easily confirmed by the stamp on the foot which gives the game away by confirming that not only was it made in Villiers St., but was made by Willis & Goodlad.

Although it is not in the least unusual to have a flute purportedly made by one maker in reality to have been made by another, it is unusual to have both "makers"

full names and workshop addresses on the same flute.

As in the case of the flutes  made by Willis for George Rudall, the Willis stamp appears only on the foot.

In this case the stamp is that of Willis and Goodlad whose dates are 1825-1834.

The patent stamp? I have to say I've no idea to what patent it might refer. The whole area of flute patents in the 19th century requires research.  Patent stamps appear to have been thrown around like snuff at a wake in 19th century London.

As might very well be expected, this flute is a wonderful player, responsive, with a particularly rich tone, excellent volume, and courtesy of the small holes, accurate internal tuning.

The work I carried out was simply to replace the crown and screw cork which had been replaced by a domed monstrosity.

...and in case you were wondering, the Google Maps screenshot at the top, shows the very central location of 25 Villiers St. (red pin).

It's now a Prêt à Manger, and I'm beginning to wonder if there's some pattern here..

Dollard's old premises in central Dublin is now a pizzeria.

Rönnberg continued

 As I referenced in the last post, William Rönnberg is a very well documented maker largely due to an interview which he gave to Baldwin's Musical Review in 1879. I don't believe any other maker has spoken in such detail about their work, and from as many different aspects.

In looking around at what Rönnberg flutes were in collections, it became clear that not only did he make a wide variety of woodwinds, but certainly in the case of his flutes, and particularly before he began to concentrate on Böhm flutes, no two of his flutes appear to be similar. 

Here's a list of links to what appears to be in public collections, and also a couple that were, or are, for sale.

1/ What appears to be a rather fancy flute with a B foot. They claim that it's "clad in tortoiseshell", but I wonder is it just stained to resemble tortoiseshell. He was known to stain box wood, to make it resemble other timbers. Have a look here

2/ This one, about as different as you can get from the first, sold recently on eBay. Have a look quickly as these listings don't remain available as long as they used to...See it here

3/ Expand the photo on this one, and it actually looks a bit like tortoiseshell too. I think in this case, that this flute is made from Platymiscium, which can at times have that sort of pattern. Again, distinctly different. Look here

4/ Don't pay too much attention to the blurb with this sale...

5/ 6/ 7/

Finally three from the DCM in Washington DC. The first, DCM 0490 resembles to a large degree 1/ down to the unusual triple trill key.  The final two DCM 0837, and DCM 0051 are examples of his Böhm flutes. He is generally considered more of a maker of Böhm flutes than simple system.

The flute that I wrote about in the last post is in fact the only "standard" 8 key flute by Rönnberg to which I can find any reference.

Following is the full text of the Baldwin's Musical Review article. I apologise for the mixed up line spacing etc. This is due to the fact that you can't export dictated text from Word except as an image. Weird huh?

Rönnberg

 This has to be one of the more interesting flutes I've restored, both in its own essence and structure, and how it came to me.

Firstly, though, let's look at what we know about the maker, William Rönnberg.

The NLI gives the usual basic information. Here's a screenshot, a bit bendy, but faster than copying it all out:-

In fact Rönnberg was one of the best documented of makers, and that through his own words. More of that later, but for the moment onto the flute.

A few years ago, I was given the task of clearing out the workshop of a long retired woodwind maker, and selling what was saleable.  Among the 'debris' was a bag of old pieces of flutes, which on first glance appeared to be the sort of thing that all makers have - pieces which are kept in the hopes that they'll be useful someday. They rarely if ever are.

This bag, as is the fate of most such things, ended up in a box, under a bench in my workshop, where it kept company with several other similar bags, and probably a dozen one keyed Bb band flutes, in similar states of disrepair, and which were not even accorded the dignity of being in a bag.

Sometime later...at least a couple of years, if memory serves ( and to be honest, it often doesn't), I had occasion to root in this cornucopia, and again opened the bag, and glanced in. What caught my eye initially was a fully keyed foot. Despite being incredibly dirty, there was something about it that spoke to me, something unusual in the proportions of the keys and blocks.

So on this occasion, I looked at it a bit more closely, which confirmed that it really was quite unlike the English and continental simple system flutes with which I was familiar. I began to look a bit more closely into the bag, and eventually found what could potentially be the other two joints of the body. After consideration though, I decided that the lower middle was from a different flute, but had probably been pressed into use at some point to try and make a playable flute. That joint was a complete wreck, cracked through from end to end, keys missing.

For a day or two, I thought no more about it, but then I began to think that someone had really wanted to keep this flute playing, and maybe there was more of it in the bag. Searching again produced what now appeared to be the correct lower middle, based largely on the style of the keys.( and the style of the dirt! ) Now I had a fairly complete flute, in reasonable condition, importantly with all the keys present. Most importantly, a little cleaning showed that the three joints I now had were stamped RÖNNBERG NEW YORK.

There's a story told about a father who had an extremely optimistic son who wanted a pony for Xmas. The father decided to test his optimism and bought him a big pile of manure which he put under the Xmas tree ( It's a story ). Father comes down on Xmas morning to find the son digging in the manure. Son turns to father and says "There's gotta be a pony here somewhere!"

So when I realised I had all of the flute body, I, too, went digging and came up with a head and barrel which had potential, but which looked wrong  in certain aspects. One thing, though, finally convinced me that the head was right, and that was the type of wood. 

I've spoken in some of my other posts about a type of wood that has been used for flute making a lot more extensively than is generally realised. This wood is from the Platymiscium genus of trees, and I believe it may be the original meaning of grenadilla, before that term came to be used to mean African blackwood. Rönnberg himself had something to say on this matter, which we'll look at later, but for the moment I was happy now to confirm that I now had all five pieces of the original flute.

Here's what it looked like.

One of the things that initially fooled me about the head, was that the original rings had been replaced. I also eventually came to realise that the barrel, although apparently from the same wood was not the original.

Stripping the flute down showed some interesting features. The head was cracked and required the removal of the liner in the course of the repair. This revealed a beautifully even oval in the liner, the result of a very even undercut to the embouchure.

Stripping the dirt and finish from the wood, also confirmed that it was Platymiscium, as it revealed the "chatoyance" ( cat's eye) effect in the grain which is so typical of this wood.

It also revealed the care that Rönnberg took in concealing some small defects in the wood. 

Here he inset a plug to replace a knot

or small grain defect, rather than simpler fill it with shellac as was the common solution.

In close up....

And here a small chip on the shoulder also has a carefully inset piece to build it up.

Interestingly, although this little insert has the grain in the correct orientation, the plug shown above is end grain instead of the more disguiseable side grain. The flute had a heavy shellac finish which effectively made these little repairs invisible. 

Bad and all as the condition of the flute was it was certainly very restorable. The head was the really the main area of concern. Pulling the liner to fix the crack is a standard procedure, and studying and measuring the embouchure, I decided that it had probably been slightly enlarged, albeit neatly enough. I bushed it with horn.

The barrel, although not the original one - as indicated by the fact that the tenon was too short for the barrel socket - I'm inclined to think was a barrel from another Rönnberg flute. The wood was the same, and perhaps what clinched it is that the the fit between the head and barrel liners was precise. Using that tube, I made another barrel from Platymiscium. The rings on head and barrel had to be made anew, matching the existing ones on the lower middle and foot. 

Finally, the whole thing was refinished to match as closely as possible what little of the original finish remained.

Result?

I think it turned out well.

The neatness and attention to detail which I had first noticed on the foot further revealed itself when the flutes was restored. This picture of the foot with keys removed makes it easier to see them.

Note the acutely angled volcano type seatings, which are so smoothly finished. Also, most unusually, the sides of the C# and C cup blocks, are curved, a feature which I had incorporated latterly on my own keyed foot joints, but had never seen on an old flute. Ecclesiastes said it...there is nothing new under the sun. These curved block sides in unusual places are also present on the short F block, again something that I did myself. Maybe I was channeling old William Rönnberg!

Other nice details, include the way in which the springs hug the profile of the underside of the key.

Here on the long F

and on the low C#

Finally, two other innovative and rather neat design features, both also on the foot.

Normally, the linkage between the low  C and C# keys relies on the C touch overlapping the C#, so that when the C is pressed, the C # also closes. But on this flute, looking from above the two touches appear to be separate.

Take the keys off and turn them over, and you see what Rönnberg's solution to this was.

He simply extended the spring on the C# under the C touch ensuring that depressing the C closes both keys.

Since the keys are padded, any adjustment need to ensure they close simultaneously is achieved when burning in the pads.

Finally, something which I've never seen on any other flute.

Hard enough to see from the photo, the slots for the C# and C touches, don't run all the way through, but rather curve up to meet to shoulder, meaning that the floor of the slot curves up from the body of the flute to the top of the block.

Of course, a flute is more than an assembly of pieces of wood and silver. What does it sound like? How does it play?

Answer:- 

As you might expect from a flute which was obviously made with such care, it plays very well.

Remember that although dating from at the earliest 1834 (the first date he's listed as being in New York, and the flute bears a New York stamp) the flute has very small holes for the period...at least from an English point of view. From the top down they measure... 7.1, 7.1, 6.5, 7.2, 7.4, 5.5mm

Unusually for a flute with small easily covered holes, the E hole is angled downwards, decreasing the distance between it and the F#.

The sounding length is 591mm again rather long, I would have thought for, such a flute. I will readily admit that my limited knowledge of American flutes doesn't allow me to make a proper comparison. 

Suffice it to say to my admittedly sharp blow, it plays easily at 440 with a very small slide extension.

The internal tuning is also rather good. Here's a read out from the RTTA tuning app which shows that apart from the flat F# ( here played as 1234, and not in the vented fingering 1234 with either F key open which would bring it into pitch) and a slightly flat D, also standard, the tuning is excellent. In fact I've rarely seen one as good.

All in all a very interesting and unusual flute.

I referred above to the fact that Rönnberg was well documented as a maker, and this is due to an article which was published in "Baldwin's Musical Review" in 1879. (Vol 14, no 3, pp6, 7Sept. 1879)

This is a detailed interview in which Rönnberg talks about his life and work in considerable detail, and rather than quote from it to illustrate some of the points in this post, I've decided to give it in full in the next blog, along with a discussion of the various other flutes that are known from this maker.

Henry Wylde #508

 Wylde is one of those names that constantly appears in any discussion of the English simple system flute in the 19th century. 

I think it's important to realise that many of the great "flute makers" of the period never in fact made flutes.  The common pattern was for a professional flautist who was engaged in teaching - most of them were - to team up with a flute maker, to provide flutes initially to their pupils, and to the general public. 

Rudall & Rose are probably the best known example of this.  As detailed in a previous blog, George Rudall initially worked with John Willis, and those instruments, made just either side of 1820, were stamped G. Rudall, and the only acknowledgement of the actual maker was a small WILLIS FECIT (latin for Willis made it) on the foot.  Although Rose, after he went into partnership with Rudall in 1821 in all probability made some of the earlier instruments, I suspect it's more likely that his role was increasingly as a workshop supervisor, managing the production of flutes by a group of workers at different skill levels. 

We see a very similar pattern with names such as Sicama, Pratten and Nicholson in England, and Tulou in continental Europe, where these performers either had flutes made to take advantage of their popularity, or were approached by established makers who wanted to associate their wares with those of famous performers.

Wylde belongs to one of a group of makers who although they did trade under their own names, produced many more flutes for others than under their own marque.

 The flute I'm showcasing here is one of  Wylde's so let's look at it in detail.

Ostensibly a standard enough cocus and silver 8 keyed flute, a closer examination shows some details that indicate that it's a cut above the standard.  The address, 15 Newington Causeway indicates a date of 1835-36, or possibly 1832-38, but certainly the 1830s.

Firstly the wood, cocus, is a suberb example of the best quality timber, with straight even grain, and a wonderful richness and depth of colour - although this last is partly due to the finish.

All three tenons are supported at the tip and base by silver rings.

The design and working of the key slots and seatings, again shows great attention to detail.  The key slots are lined, and the double spring (of blued steel) is neatly incorporated by riveting on to an extension of the liner.

The pad seatings are beautifully executed in doughnut form, which as you can see in the image above, makes an efficient impression on the pad.  Note also the neatness of the spring rivet, and the profiling of the spring itself.

The screw mechanism has an ivory screw through a silver sheathed crown.

Ivory screws are commonly found on good quality flutes, even where ivory is not otherwise used.  I've come to the conclusion that the reason behind this is that forming threads both external and internal, with the types of woods used in flute making is not an easy task, as the fine points of the thread tend to shear off, resulting in a "blunt" thread, which is not very functional for fine adjustments. Using ivory, on the other hand, results in a strong well formed thread which is very durable.

An unusual feature is the number stamp, which only appears on the foot, and which I read as 508.

The flute came to me in fairly good condition.  There was the almost standard crack in the head, conveniently in this case, not through the embouchure.

The main problem was the severely damaged block on the foot, holding the Eb key, and the C and C# touches.

Looking from below, it doesn't look too bad...

                           

But from this angle, you can see that the block has been replaced...and badly!

So badly in fact, that there has been no attempt to provide a side to the Eb slot. Look at the angle above, where you can see that the flat bottom of the block replacement simply sticks out as far as the original edge of the slot.

This didn't become obvious until the Eb key was removed.

So the block had to be replaced, and in doing this it became obvious why the replacement block didn't have a proper side to it.  As you can see in the pic below, milling out enough material to allow a block replacement going across far enough to make a proper Eb slot means the base of the slot going through the bore of the socket.

This makes the job a little more complicated, as profiling the block to fit the socket bore couldn't be done until the block was glued in place. 

The other issue with this replacement block was that of course the slots were unlined, which they were on all the other blocks, and certainly were on the original. So this meant making new liners, milling the slots wide enough to take them, and gluing them in place.

Just a note here about the whole concept of lined blocks.  They become reasonably common in the late 18th century, contemporaneous with the appearance of multi keyed flutes.  I can't think that I've ever seen it on a one keyed flute, but not saying that it doesn't exist.  Many think that the purpose of the lining was simply to make the action of the key smoother by operating between metal as opposed to wooden sides in the slot.  I don't believe that this is the case.  My idea is that the real purpose was to prevent the block splitting at the level of the axle/pin hole, as the block liner would take all the pressure, as opposed to the wood.  Evidence is that you never see a lined block that is split at that level.

Here's the new block replacement....

...and a view showing the block liners.

One other small detail of this flute I thought unusual. The number 210 is scratched on the head and the crown, but nowhere else on the flute.

All in all, a very nice flute.

The sounding length, at 596mm is on the long side for a flute of this period. Compare 586.5 for Prowse Nicholson Improved #3929 from approximately the same date, and much later Rudall Carte & Co. 7183 at 566mm.  The embouchure measures 12.14 x 11.00, and head diameter  at the embouchure is 27.5mm.

Special thanks to Simon Waters for information on the date of this flute.

 

 

 

 

Jordon Wainright...A Very Special Flute.

 As a flute player, maker and collector for some 48 years at this stage, it's sometimes remarkable how flutes come into your life, disappear from it, and very occasionally come back into it.

A bit of my personal flute history is appropriate here.

I began to take an interest in the flute in the early 70s, but that interest was stymied by a lack of flutes. I've written before about the difficulty of getting hold of any sort of a flute in Ireland in the 1970s. There were no "official" sources.            If you were lucky enough, you knew a flute player who would sell you something, and of course, at that time not only was there no internet, there was almost no way for young (or old) players to acquire any knowledge about flutes. It was basically a suck it and see situation (OK, maybe blow it and see would be a better idiom)

 Sometime in 1975 word reached Belfast that CCÉ headquarters in Dublin were selling flutes. Myself and Desi Wilkinson decided that we'd head to Dublin, and catch the ball on the hop as it were. I remember we asked Leslie Bingham his advice, as one of the only older flute players we knew. All I can remember at this remove is that Rudall & Rose was mentioned.

At the time, Comhaltas headquarters was in Harcourt St. in central Dublin, just to the south of St. Stephen's Green. Desi and myself got there to discover that there were about 6 or 8 flutes available.                                                                          None of them were by Rudall & Rose.                                                                      In retrospect, they were all German flutes, German in the Irish sense that is, what are now commonly called "nach Meyer" instruments.

Knowing nothing, or next to it, about flutes at the time, I used whatever measure of common sense I had, and picked out the flute which appeared to me to be in the best condition. It was a very standard unstamped blackwood 8 keyed (nickel silver) flute, in very playable condition.

I gave them £40 for it...and in fact all the flutes were £40, which if you think about it was a considerable amount of money at the time. I had worked on archeological digs as a summer job at the time, and our wages were £40 a week, which because it was a Dept. of the Environment job, was considered a very good weekly wage, probably the equivalent of around €800 today. Interesting that a similar flute would probably cost around half of that today.

So this was the flute that I learned to play on...and also was my introduction to flute repair and maintenance. At the time though, all I wanted was a flute that worked well enough for me to learn to play.  And it did work well enough. 

Untill...

About 6 months later, I moved to Cork, where there was a very vibrant traditional music scene, in which I soon became deeply involved, and it was around this time that I began to feel that I was not making as much progress as I hoped, and I also, despite the phrase - " a bad workman blames his tools" being in the back of my mind - began to think that it was the flute that was holding me back. But as explained above there were no more flutes in Cork than there were in Belfast, in fact probably less.

One of the first people I met when I came to Cork was another aspiring flute player by the name of Rob Murphy. In fact the very first night I passed in Cork city was in Rob's house, or rather his parent's house.                                                            Cork people are nothing if not hospitable.                                                                It turned out that Rob had a very nice old English 8 keyed flute that he wasn't using, and offered me a long term loan of it. 

As soon as I picked it up and blew into it, I knew I had moved onto a different level. The response was so immediate, so different from the old flute. Everything seemed to fall so easily under my fingers, and it reacted so easily to changes in embouchure.

A new world.

Probably less than a year later, knowing that the flute was a loan, I had the opportunity to buy Rudall & Rose, #6315, which became my main instrument for many years, and in fact which I still have, play almost every day, and which was the pattern for my early flutes.

Rob Murphy's flute, which was an instrument by Jordan Wainwright,  was returned to him, and disappeared from my life...forever... as I thought.

In 1979 I set up my workshop, and a good few years later, I came across another Jordan Wainwright, which was left in for repair. This was a very different flute, evidently much earlier, in boxwood with brass "flap" keys. The earliest date given for Wainwright is 1822, but the style of this flute was much more akin to what would be expected from the first decade of the 19th c. or even the last decade of the 18th.

So here's the flute, ( Rob's flute) a fairly standard mid to early 19th century 8 keyed English flute., stamped Wainwright London

This is not a maker you'd come across often. Here's the NLI entry, which interestingly notes only one example of a flute by him in a private collection in England.

The date of 1853 is significant here, as it is the last year that he was operating in London and in fact  Jordan Wainright is probably best known for emigrating to Australia, and setting up as a flute maker there, which he did in 1853, which explains that date as the cessation of his London work. 

The stamp on this flute is very faint...possibly as a result of refinishing, but against that is the fact that there appear to be no repairs, that would require that level of work. Here's the stamp on the lower middle joint.

There's no address on this stamp to aid in dating the flute

Let's have a look at the flute in more detail. Although I said it was a fairly standard 19th c. English 8 key, it was also a superior instrument with some very nice features. Cocus wood and silver, it has machine engraving on the broad rings, and a very fancy finial to the screw cork mechanism.

Unusually only some of the key slots are lined. All the slots on the foot are are lined, but on the body, only that of the short F, a combination that I've never seen before. I think the key work does display a certain degree of elegance though.

Note the way the touch declines towards the E hole, allowing the finger to side down to play the D. Movement in the other direction would involve the Long F.

In a feature that we see in some other flutes from the period, there is an ivory "liner" between the wood of the socket and the broad silver ring. The function of this is unknown, and certainly as a flute maker, I can see no particular advantage to it.

The keys are hallmarked, a feature which is much less common than imagined on English flutes.  Hall marks indicate who made the item, where it was made, when it was made, the purity of the silver, and the date. Let's look at the maker's mark first...

...this is the top mark here and clearly says WT/RA

It took me a while to find this maker's mark, but here it is...

...and surprisingly, it's not the mark of a flute maker but rather that of a "flatware" maker.  (scroll across) I had of course presumed that the W stood for Wainwright, but this was obviously wrong. Flatware essentially indicates a cutlery maker, but also could indicate a maker of plates etc. 

The dates that the maker is registered also usefully gives us an approximate date for the flute and in fact the date mark ( third from the top )confirms this being the date letter for 1840.  The marks on this flute are quite worn and hard enough to read, but I see the date letter as the gothic script E as illustrated here...

Here's another view of the hallmark

I believe that the wear that you often see on the hall marks on flute keys, is not simply a matter of over enthusiastic cleaning and polishing. Because stamping a hall mark on a narrow piece of silver like the shaft of a flute key will make it spread out, it seems obvious to me that the keys were hallmarked before the final finishing and fitting of the keys to the slots was completed, and that this, more than anything accounts for the often worn look. In order to make the expanded key fit the slot, it seems logical that often some aspects of the hallmark stamps would have to be filed away.  The maker's mark on the upper key in the photo above is a good example.

This is such a different flute from the other Wainwright that I restored, that it's difficult to believe they're by the same maker, and as we'll see later it almost seems that he was consistent in his inconsistency. Regarding this flute, if there was no maker's stamp on it, I'd be very inclined to say it was by the younger Prowse.

Research showed that quite a lot is known of Wainwright in Australia. The Powerhouse Museum in Castle Hill, NSW has one of his flutes, and their site holds quite a lot of information about him. See here

This flute is a very standard 4 keyed flute of the type that is in many ways anachronistic in the period it was made, being more typical of a flute from the late 18th century. What is potentially interesting about it is the surmise that it is potentially made from an Australian hardwood instead of cocus.

The following is from their site.

"He is known to have travelled to Sydney with his wife in 1853 and by 1857 had established himself in George Street, Sydney where he worked in several premises until 1883. He died in Newtown in 1884 at the age of 86. Apart from being recorded as a musical instrument maker at various times he is also recorded in Sydney trade directories as a wood turner, suggesting he certainly had the skills to produce quality work rather than merely importing instruments and stamping them with his mark......

.......The reasons surrounding Wainwright's decision to leave London are also unclear. Whether it was the pull of a new land with new resources and the prospect of prosperity from the gold discoveries or the push of an increasingly competitive market in London is uncertain. Clearly when in London Wainwright would have seen several new developments in flute design and equally would have missed seeing many others after he left. This possibly explains why he went to Australia but continued manufacturing flutes in an older style, still using a simple fingering system. This dislocation from the English musical instrument making scene possibly suggests that Wainwright could not compete with other makers and the amount of innovation occurring in London. However, although Wainwright adhered to this older style of general design he adopted the use of new materials in Australia. This included the use of a native timber, Myall (Acacia pendula) and silver from Moruya on the New South Wales south coast. It is unclear at this stage how many of his Australian flutes were made using Australian materials but an instrument comprising them was used as his showpiece instrument for the exhibitions mentioned above."

 For me, the above reveals some interesting conundrums. 

The NLI, even the most recent edition (1993) indicates that only one flute by Wainwright is known, but the Australian site seem to indicate that many more are extant.

"Wainwright exhibited in several colonial and international exhibitions such as the 1866 Intercolonial Exhibition of Australasia in Melbourne, a preliminary Sydney exhibition to the London International exhibition held in 1861, the London International Exhibition in 1862 itself and the Paris International Exhibition in 1867. Several of his instruments both during his London period and in Australia are stamped "Patent" however, there appears to be no record of such a patent existing in either English or Australian records."

and also...

"The quantity of flutes by Wainwright in Australia is unknown. However, four instruments have been sighted with his Sydney mark although it is assumed more examples exist seeing he is listed as an instrument maker in Sydney for almost thirty years. Each of these existing instruments are different in type from the others and apart from this four key instrument in F include an eight key, a single key in B flat and a single key in F. There is also a reference to a sighting of a clarinet with Wainwright's Sydney mark. This variety of flutes is consistent with surviving examples of his London work although materials differ. These include an eight key boxwood flute, an eight key cocus flute, an eight key ivory flute, a six key boxwood flute, a single key boxwood flute in A and a piccolo."

I hope I'm reading the text above correctly in that the last flutes are from his London output? I'm in contact with the Powerhouse Collection, and I'm hoping to hear from them about the sources for their research.

So, to finish...

How did the flute, that I gave back to Rob Murphy in 1978(ish) end up back in my hands.....

Rob Murphy who was a medical student when I first met him, qualified as a doctor, and in time went to work in Newfoundland.

He was playing the flute a lot at that stage, and fell in with the vibrant trad scene in St. John's, where he met a young flute player called Michelle Brophy. Michelle Brophy bought a flute from me in 1996, and by a series of coincidences I came to know her and her husband, piper Rob Brown very well and ended up teaching Michelle flute making over a period of years. (I'm happy to report that she's now making excellent flutes)

Rob Murphy eventually came back to Ireland, where he worked as a GP in Cavan, and despite meeting him once a good few years ago, we lost touch. On the occasion that we met...it was at some musical event in Dublin... the Wainwright did come up in conversation. He said it had been sadly neglected, I offered to do it up in return for the original loan, but nothing ever came of it.

Michelle didn't loose contact though. She credited him with her development as a flute player and kept in contact over the years.

Earlier this year, knowing that Michelle was making a visit to Ireland I was able to make contact with Rob again, and for the second time he was extremely generous, giving me the flute again...for good this time.

And so after Michelle first visited Rob in Cavan, the circle was complete, and Michelle delivered the flute to me...

...and it's just as good as I remembered.

Very special thanks to the Powerhouse Collection for permission to quote their research, especially to Dr. Michael Lea for his extensive research on Wainwright and to Kathy Hackett for her help in preparing this post.