<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN"> <HTML><HEAD> <META http-equiv=Content-Type content="text/html; = charset=iso-8859-1"> <META content="MSHTML 5.50.4134.600" name=GENERATOR> <STYLE></STYLE> </HEAD> <BODY bgColor=#ffffff> <DIV> Hammermaker’s corner 10.   Ari isaac.     Now that I had my first strip of glued up hammers fresh out of the = press – it was time to slice them into individual hammers. I had bought the moldings pre-sliced, just like every other hammer = maker. The slicing tool, machine, is a large guilliotine; well, not quite like the = classic French model, but reasonably hefty. The old hammer slicing variety = consisted of a casting with two radiused tracks facing each other on both insides, in = which ran roller bearings whose shafts were fixed to the overhead heavy handle = to which was bolted the 7"x4" knife. The knife was made of some special = sexy steel like o1 or a1 material. To slice a hammer from the strip of the whole = set you opened the strip so you could insert the knife between the hammer you = were slicing off and the rest. You supported the strip against a fense with = your left hand and pushed the knife handle down and away from you with your right. = The sliced off hammer would fall into a tray. To get one was a problem: = they’re not sold in stores and companies using them to slice hammers were not going = to let me have one, also, steeling was out of the question. What to do? = Remember, I was determined to make hammers no matter what the odds. It still gives me a = thrill knowing that the hammers we make are going to play music that will bring = enjoyment to someone. I had met Cliff Fowler about fifteen years earlier during my two year = stint at the Toronto Aeolian factory, where I "fine tuned" twelve pianos a day = so I could make a weekly pay of $60 or so, we were paid (1960) $1.28 per = "fine" tuning. I didn’t much like Cliff when I first met him, he was a = say-it-like I sees-it Irishman who came walking through the factory selling tools to = everyone who would buy. He was the owner of the local piano supply company called = by the appropriate name of D. M. Best. They made both bass strings and hammers = and I had, subsequently, been to their shop, they had a hammer slicing = guilliotine. I decided, in 1980 to ask Cliff Fowler to lend me his guilliotine over a = weekend so I could take it to my machine shop to make a copy. In the years since = we had met I had grown to appreciate and to like Cliff; he was a decent fellow = dealing with cheap piano manufacturers of the period who were hellbent on = wripping out magnificent hardwood forests to produce what? Trashy replicas of = something they called ‘pianos’. Piano tecs weren’t much better; Cliff = complained often about his customers’ tighwadedness and, standing at the counter = observing D. M. Best customers coming and going, I don’t think he was far wrong. = Quibbling about prices of source materials, replacement parts or grumbling about = increases in the price of quality items needed to produce a quality product, perform = a fine job, is an attitude I have never been able to understand. The proverb = about not being able to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear is, I think, = perfectly suited to professionals who drown you with hipe about the quality of what = they’re selling while strenuously objecting to pay for items, materials, they = need to purchase. Quality, in my experience, is genuine only when it applies to = both sides of the equasion. I think Cliff had a grudging respect for what I was trying to = accomplish. "I thank my lucky stars you’re blind", he told me. "or else you = would put me out of business". Or, once, when I walked into his office… "With a face like yours the least you could do is straighten your = tie". He walked around his desk, came over and straightened my tie with a warm = smile. I called Cliff with some trepedation. I was prepared for a blunt = refusal; after all, why should he let me have his guilliotine to copy? "I would not do this for anyone else," Cliff said, without hesitating = any, "but, I know you. You won’t rest until you make good hammers. I = have a spare guilliotine. Take it to your machine shop and tell them not to rush and = do a good job on your guilliotine." I paid $1000 for the one the machine shop = made for me, it was an improved version of the one Cliff had loaned me. I had = set it upand, now, with my first set of hammers I started to slice… only = to discover that the guilliotine wouldn’t slice through the felt. Nothing = wrong with the slicer, it just wouldn’t go through. I didn’t have enough = force to drive the big knife through the felt. After trying half adozen times with no success I = called on a taller, heavier, stronger friend – he couldn’t slice = through any better than I could. The felt I had had made for Isaac Cadenza hammers was = simply too dense for the ordinary guilliotine to handle. After I’d finished wripping out the few hairs left on my head I = called C to tell him of my predicament. He built me a no nonsense air cyllinder = powered slicer pushed by a 4" diameter air cyllinder which sliced through the = felt with no difficulty, hell! it would slice through a finger, bone and all with = just as little difficulty. It had taken two, three weeks to get it made but now, = finally, as long as I watched my fingers…, I could make hammers. = </DIV></BODY></HTML>