Wednesday, November 2, 2022

1950's Estey Folding Organ Restoration

Quick performance video

I've been on the hunt for an actual folding organ ever since seeing a good one in an antique store in high school and failing to buy it. They're near-perfect busking instruments, if you're willing to lug them around- they're loud, clear, full-sounding, (unlike small portable amps, it must be said,) and don't require power. They're also attention-getting novelties, which is big. I converted a small organ for this purpose in 2021, but its limited range and the pain it took me to set up had me wanting more.

 

When I bought this organ, I had already picked up a very beat, slightly mysterious, and much  older example. I figured that, since I was already planning on restoring another organ, I could get some practice before making the newer into a real hot rod.

The newer organ, an Estey, was found in a Lyndonville antique store, almost by accident. The company, located just a few hours South in the Connecticut River Valley in Brattleboro, was known for many, many decades as one of the country's leading manufacturers of reed organs.

The organ seemed post-war, based on its construction, and a little digging about the serial number online confirmed it as a 50's instrument. This was well past Estey's prime as a company, but the famed quality seemed still to be there. One major bonus of a later instrument like this one is its tuning to 440hz. The organ sported a 4-octave, C to C keyboard with full-size keys, octave-up stops for each half, and swell/grand organ levers. And it was made to fold up. Perfect.

Of course, a lot was wrong with it. Besides being filthy and creaky, it produced only enough sound to confirm that it could be made functional.

The main problem was this: the bellows cloth- the rubberized fabric surrounding the exhausters and the reservoir- had to be replaced, along with each of four valves. In an organ, the exhausters attach one to each foot pedal via straps, and serve to pump air out of the reservoir, which collapses against large springs until a key is pressed, allowing air to rush across a reed into the reservoir. The bellows cloth and leather checkvalves need to be very airtight for the system to work well.

Replacing the cloth and valves was the big job. Next to that, I decided I had to:

-Clean and wax the case

-Disassemble the case to the extent possible and replace worn screws

-Clean and lubricate the mechanical features of the instrument

-Roughly level the keys

-Adjust the action to be within normal for a piano or organ

-Work with reeds as absolutely necessary

 

Process photos:

As I got the organ, after removing the front panel. For some reason, this area was loaded with spruce needles:

Cool detail of the grand organ function. The knee lever acts on this hinged wooden slide, which in turn bumps up each door enabling air to get to the high choir of reeds, which are normally covered by a leather gasket. The right knee lever's function can also be seen, as it acts on the rotating brass rod to the right to lift the shutter, acting behind on the low choir of reeds, only:

The cheek stops each act to open one door of the high choir only. The function is of a simple wedge:

The keys are seen cut away below to make room for the slide mechanisms:

Instrument out of case:

Heavily depressed gaskets on the pallet valves leading to shallow action and uneven keys. I experimented with turning these around, but ended up switching them back for a better seal, and restored the action in a different way:

 
 Removing keys. Filthy under keybed:


Storing the stickers- small dowels that communicate the movement of the keys to the valves. They're filed to regulate key level, and need to be kept in order:

The newly clean upper action receiving new, thinner felt. The thinner felt allows the keys to drop further, and so deepens the action throughout the entire keyboard:

Cutting copies of old leather valves for the exhausters and reservoir. This organ had some interesting valve features: vinyl reservoir valves and spring-mounted, leather exhauster ones. I created new valves for my old, anonymous organ at the same time:

Making templates for new rubber cloth from the brittle, old coverings:

Transferring the pattern over to new material:

Applying card stock ribs to the finished covering:

The process of applying new bellows cloth. An exhauster is propped up, and one edge of the cloth is applied with thick hot glue. Hot animal glue is really necessary here, since it's slightly pliable, can be removed if a mistake is made, and applies quickly. I use my fingers to hold the cloth fast to an edge while it sets up. Once it does, more is added until the entire edge is worked around. The bottom edges of the exhausters in this organ are held with strips of wood and tacked, easing the process greatly:

Each exhauster is covered, followed by the reservoir. It is important to apply the valves for the reservoir before covering the exhausters, since they won't be accessible afterwards.

Setup for cleaning reeds. I drilled a block to hold each one in order, and used diluted ammonia, followed by several rinses, to wash them:

Playing with the key action and location. The pins in the nearest row are ellipsoid and can be turned or bent slightly to make changes to the key's position and relative looseness:


 Aside from case repairs, most of the project then consisted of zipping things up. Note the two cleats added to the music stand/lid along the line of a crack:

Case mode:

The sound of the organ turned out very clean and pure, unlike other, reedier organs I've played. The grand organ feature was very nice for ocassional dramatic touches or forte sections, as well as some octave displacement tricks, which are good to have around when you're playing on just four octaves. Having seperate octave stops can also be recommended; it really brings out the right hand against accompaniment if you need it to.

Unfortunately, the leather I used for the valves was a bit too thick, resulting in quiet, but noticeable, farting sounds if pumping too hard. It was drowned out during play, but annoying to my perfectionist side nonetheless.

Apart from my drive to avoid carrying tons of huge, heavy furniture around, I ultimately decided to get rid of this organ because it just wasn't exactly what I was looking for. The ease of folding the organ was more than outweighed by its weight and awkwardness- not great for taking out to busking spots. The octave stops and knee levers are wonderful, but I would gladly trade the gizmos for a smaller size. The volume also left something to be desired, which I think owes at least partially to the massive wooden case. In the future I'll be on the lookout for an Estey JJ or something similar...

5-String Baritone Ukulele Build

In Spring of 2022 I decided to build some kind of ukulele-like instrument. The plan was to do things right and end up with something much closer to an "actual" ukulele than I had come before. I would use all the right materials, including old-school hot glue, which I had on hand from recovering organ bellows.

 

I decided to build a baritone ukulele-scale instrument with steel strings and an added low A- basically a mini guitar without the bass E. In retrospect, the layout was a little ambitious, but I wanted to come out with something unique. I was very interested in owning a 5-string, guitar-like instrument as a bridge between guitar and baritone ukulele- various interesting things happen with this tuning, such as root position and 2nd inversion chords swapping places. In general, the layout would force me to think.

Virtually all of the materials, except for glue and hardware, were local to Northeast Vermont.

Ripping and joining cedar halves for the top:


  
 
Planning the bracing pattern:

Cutting the soundhole on a drill press with a circle cutter:


 
Sizing the top- that is, applying a thin first coat of glue to fill the grain. Note home brew double-boiler for hot glue:

 
Side-bending jigs. Sides were wetted down and wrapped in tin foil before going in the oven. pressure was then gently applied to shape them onto the forms:
 
 
Finished top with walnut back and sides. Pieces for the back and sides were ripped much the same way as those for the top. All were subject to hand-planing and sanding before this photo:

Since the string setup was a little unprecedented, I decided to go on the safe side with an adjustable truss rod. I cut and threaded each end of a steel rod, one end to which I peened a slightly modified wing nut:


The neck built up and ready for shaping:

Beginning to shape the neck with drawknife, rasp, file and plane:


Slots cut for the sides per the Spanish heel style of neck jointery:

Rosette creation. Trimming bent cherry strips after cutting a channel with a plain razor blade:

Joining up the neck, sides and back. The sides were glued together at the tail block first, then glued into their neck slots. The back was then glued at tail block and heel. The sides are here shown being chased around with little gussets, shown in a jar at right:

 
The neck after shaping and sanding:

A rig for measuring top deflection. A hillbilly-flavored effort to introduce engineering and hopefully ensure a just-strong-enough top. Weights were introduced to the platform and the result measured as a distance. As it turns out, the braces were overbuilt:

Top attached and binding in progress. I cut binding channels by hand with a razor blade. The fingerboard is seen with frets going in at left:

 
Fingerboard attachment. Some clamps...
 

 Bridge attachment:


Finished! Tru-oil coating. Mocked up with two strings and a saddle blank. Unfortunately, the neck angle came out very slightly wonky in the verticle plane, which I somehow missed throughout construction... not good... see what I did below...



 
The neck angle as it was would have forced too-high action- hard to play, and hard on the top. I made the difficult decision to cut into the instrument and adjust the neck. Removing the fingerboard with lots of hot water:

 
There were a few things I could have done, but I decided to cut the neck at the body, cut the neck to alter its angle slightly, and rejoin with dowels. So much for the Spanish heel:
 


The most unfortunate effect of this heavy operation was the slight repositioning of the fingerboard, resulting in the need to reshape the head slightly:


The best finished-project pictures I currently have are of the pre-fix mockup. Soon I'll take some of the final setup with strings and moose-antler nut and saddle. I also created a simple case for the instrument.
 
The uke was a success, with some reservations. I wish I had picked a less ambitious layout and built a plain baritone ukulele, or at least a 4-stringer meant for steel. Nerves about the tension led me to overbuild the neck, which isn't very comfortable to play, and the truss rod was probably unnecessary, especially if I had been able to build a 1-piece neck. The sound is nice, and the playability is so-so. I may end up swapping for nylon strings eventually, although I worry the sound would suffer. I will be building another ukulele next chance I get and no doubt applying a lot of brutal lessons from this project.

Tuesday, November 1, 2022

Anonymous Reed Organ Repair

For more about reed organs, visit my Estey portable post.

I picked this reed organ up in Fall 2021 from a guy on Lake Willoughby in Vermont, hoping to learn on it as a fixer-upper. I pretty quickly realized it was very strange in several ways.

Although I couldn't find a maker's mark or any information anywhere, I figured the organ was at least 120 years old. The fasteners, the style of jointery, the prevalence of hot glue, etc., combined with the fact that most of the reed organs I see around are pre-1900, made me think so.

The thing was in pretty bad shape. Cracked panels, broken joints, a lot of torn-out screw holes, and basically no sound at all.

 
The case didn't seem to match the instrument, oddly enough. The thin rails on either side of the above picture, which held the instrument inside, were obviously of a different vintage from either...


Also strange was the swell shutter mechanism, which was given no allowance for a knee lever by the case, meaning the shutter always remained closed. I ended up placing a hinged block adjacent to the shutter so that you could choose to leave it fully opened or closed when playing. Once the top of the action was fully exposed, I could tell that countless, mostly failed, repairs had been worked upon this organ: a huge variety of screws and gory former screw holes dotted its entirety. Also bizarre was the covering of the entire top with black spray paint, obscuring the tag that I assume had maker's info on it.

 
The gasket, which should be felt, paper, or, ideally, leather, had been replaced by some randomly-sized strips of flannel. The heart was in the right place here, but this definitely made any leaks a lot worse. Cool springs down below, too.

 
Parts organized into lower action, upper action, keybed, rail, cheeks and fasteners.

 

I didn't get around to fixing the little organ until Summer of 2022. Finding the right rubber cloth and leather was not easy. Unfortunately, I also lost the finished-product pictures for this organ, although the Estey folder that I worked on was basically done concurrently, and so the major operations look the same.

Basically, the repairs were as follows:

-Filling and/or regluing cracks and busted joints on the case

-Filling old, leaky screw holes around the reservoir

-Filling a leaky crack on the upper action

-Making up a new leather gasket

-Recovering the exhausters and reservois

-Making and applying new leather valves

-Placing new screw holes and refitting the action parts

-Roughly levelling the keys

-Tweaking and tuning the reeds to achieve playability

-Cleaning and reassambling

-Adding a hinged block to enable shutter to open

The organ, while it ended up being playable, was not a great success, mainly because I'm not very skilled at working on reeds yet. The bellows ended up working great, and while there was still more leakage than I would like, the playability was more than adequate.

The greater problem was in the reeds: many were making contact with their frames, leading me to painstakingly file at the slots until they could move freely. Often they were detuned by this and had to be brought back in line. Many were warped or had mouse urine damage. The real problem was in sensitivity- I managed to get the instrument in tune to itself to my liking, but the lowest bass reeds would essentially never play under too much air pressure, and sometimes had to be coaxed into speaking, meaning too-rapid bass work was impossible. A couple of reeds remained troublesome, and would ocassionally silence for no clear reason. The combined problems made the instrument frustrating to play. It was still fun, and the tone, it must be said, was very interesting and rich.

It was also fun to play a bit on a tiny organ of the time (whatever long-ago time that was.) The F to F range is a bit oldschool, and the shortened and roughly-shaped accidentals were fun to negotiate with. The sheer volume of repairs and other evidence of other peoples' tinkering is always pretty fascinating, as well. Hopefully the level I was able to get it to will keep it in circulation as an instrument for a while yet.

I'm glad I ended up picking up a newer Estey while I worked on this project. It was much more playable in the end, tuned to 440hz since it was a 50's instrument, and, since I had the opportunity of practicing on this one, I got to apply a bit of experience. The mystery organ ended up staying behind in the cabin when I moved out...