Early Keyboards in Israel: Reportage from the Field
“Hi, Alex, looking for challenge?” Zami’s voice is full of friendly intrigue. “Then write down a phone number!”
I’ve known Zami Ravid, an Israeli collector of musical instruments, since the early 1990s; four different keyboards from his collection have passed through my workshop.
The challenge was to correctly tune an old cimbalom given as a present to an eighty-year-old female resident of Jerusalem, who learned to play it in Hungary when she was six and had not touched it since then. Instruments of this kind have always been rare in Israel, and during the late 1990s, the Internet did not provide easy access to information on their tuning. Of course, encyclopedic sources could be found, but I had already devised a plan of action.
Upon my arrival, I questioned the owner about songs that she might remember to play. I was lucky; among the tunes—most of which were of Hungarian gypsy origin—was a Hebrew melody Yerushalayim shel zahav (“Golden Jerusalem”), which both of us knew. Then, I asked her to play it as though the cimbalom were in tune. She succeeded in doing that, and I noticed the strings’ positions that corresponded with certain notes from the melody and the accompaniment. The scale sequence and octave division in both the treble and bass sections of the instrument were completed, in general, from the first attempt. Much later, however, I checked this topic through the Internet, and one of the suggested options was indeed very close to my tuning plan.
This exotic story serves as just one example of unique professional challenges we meet in our careers, not routine problems. Challenges, however, also await us in more ordinary circumstances, as we will see below.
The following pages will contain some general notes on early keyboards in Israel, and several selected stories from my experience of their restoration in the last twenty years.
A working space
A maintainer and restorer of early keyboards in Israel can cover a range of different instrument groups. There are, first of all, harpsichords of historical building and of revivals. The latter were brought by newcomers in the early 1960s; others were ordered from European builders during the 1980s, when a trend demanding authentic performance reached the country. Many educational institutions—music academies, universities, and conservatories—acquired historical harpsichords, spinets and virginals during that period and the following decades. Above eighty instruments of this kind are presently located in Israel.
Reed organs (harmoniums), brought to the Holy Land in the nineteenth century by missionaries and left for decades without maintenance, have now become rather exotic features of households. Some of them have been under my care. In churches, however, these instruments have finally become obsolete; either pipe or electric church organs have replaced them all.
Small pipe organs (positives) acquired by several music institutions in the last two decades serve continuo goals. They all are in playable condition.
Early pianos have been represented until now by four period square-pianos, only one of which is in playable condition, and four fortepianos of historical building.
Local problems
There are two problems regarding early keyboards—first of all, harpsichords—in Israel: hamsin and irregular maintenance. The first problem is caused by a weather phenomenon specific to this geographic area. Fifty days a year (hamsin means fifty in Arabic), a southern wind from the desert brings a heavy combination of temperature, barometric and humidity factors; people suffer from headaches, and frames of paintings are bent. Likewise, string instruments become out of tune, and a harpsichord soundboard may receive a wave-like shape seen by eye. After several years, such repeated events may cause unconvertible damage to the soundboard. Most historical harpsichords with a string length of c'' close to 36 cm (for soft iron stringing) or 38 cm (for steel wire stringing) become seriously damaged after only fifteen years. Though this problem has been resolved in recent years due to the prevalence of air conditioning, the lasting solution of the problem is reducing the general string tension—that is, tuning the instrument half a tone lower, and building by this occasion the transposing keyboard, if it is not already constructed. This routine operation stabilizes many instruments and keeps them in tune.
The second problem, however, is much more serious and caused by a human factor. Many local harpsichord owners generally do not take the necessary steps to maintain their instruments. Several times, I have been called to evaluate a harpsichord that has not received a maintenance check in ten to fifteen years, though an overhaul was needed and the maintainer’s name on the small sticker was almost unreadable.
Combinations of these two problems, to varying degrees of seriousness, create the range of my “routine practice.” Sometimes, however, there are no routine situations, as described in the following pages.
A reed organ
Zami Ravid knows to excite me each time he calls. This time, there was a small reed organ, harmonina, which he brought from France. My task was to rebuild the completely destroyed bellows.
Harmonina, an invention of Alexandre-François Debain, a mid-nineteenth century French builder, is a three-octave, foot-pump harmonium that works on the rather rare pressure principle.1 Regarding the bellows, there was indeed little physical information left to study. For hours, I sat opposite the bellows to investigate them, as I attempted to follow the hypothetical technical thoughts of the original builder. In other words, I was calculating how I would build—from the beginning—bellows of that particular shape and size.
The next day, I devoted my time to searching for the appropriate materials—cardboard, thin leather, tappets—in different Jerusalem stores and workshops. Then, for the following two days, I completed the project, step by step (Fig. 1).
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| Fig. 2. Restored harmonina |
The final touch was to correctly place colored tappets onto the bells, in order to appropriate the external design of the receiver part in the front side of the instrument. Other parts of the reed organ were in quite good condition. Except for cleaning the voices and other minor repairs, no work needed to be carried out. Harmonina, according to its builder’s concept, was designed as a melodic keyboard to be placed in front of a piano keyboard, so that the pianist’s right hand might play a melody with it, while the left hand performs the piano accompaniment. The octave span of the instrument, hence, was the same as in most contemporary pianos, i.e., 165 mm. The harmonina (Fig. 2) is presently working and being exhibited at “Zami's Music Box” Museum, Metula, Israel.
A square-piano
The earliest keyboard I repaired to playable condition, as it remains now, was a square-piano built by Baas, Paris, in 1800 (Fig. 3). Dr. Myrna Herzog, a specialist for Gamba, has recently possessed this instrument. In 1972, Johannes Carda restored the piano, having replaced the strings and dampers for new ones based on the initial design. Since then, the instrument has neither been played nor maintained.
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| Fig. 3. Square-piano “Baas” |
Of course, there were many regulations and other repairs to complete, but the most important and essential points were as follows:
1) choosing an appropriate pitch;
2) bringing into order the quantity of pedals and their correct functioning; and
3) protecting the bottom parts of the pedal mechanisms during transportation.
The original pitch of the instrument was certainly unknown. When it arrived at the customer’s house, the pitch was approximately a'=380 Hz. The string length of c'' was about 32 cm. The range of possibilities, therefore, might be set between a'=420–460 Hz. The currently accepted pitch for early fortepianos, a'=430 Hz, did not meet ensemble realities in Israel; a possible tuning to a'=440 Hz would perhaps be dangerous because of the soundboard's condition and the age of the instrument. The solution was a'=415 Hz. After one month of tuning the instrument at that pitch, it became stable.
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| Fig. 4. The new scheme of pedals |
The four originally designed pedals were capable of the following stops and functions (from left to right): piano, sustain, lute, and bell. The bell was missing, while the rest were complete. After some hesitation, we decided—together with my customer—to cancel the right pedal, and to arrange the rest in more a convenient order for use, from left to right: piano, lute, and sustain (Fig. 4.).
To protect the bottom sections, I added two square beams rounded off by sides, so that the square-piano might be easily pushed into and pulled out of a minivan.
A revival harpsichord
One of my customers, an amateur whose living circumstances did not allow him to purchase a historical harpsichord of normal length and keyboard compass, asked me to prepare a revival harpsichord “Ammer” (8' + 4"), so that he could play a Bach Allemande, the first bars of which include the low B-flat. I started to work on changing the keyboard sequence and planned to insert a BB key instead of f'''; I was also requested to build a transposing keyboard.
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| Fig. 5. Reconstructed “Ammer” |
When I finished the ordered modification, my customer suddenly discovered that this Allemande also includes the low A. He asked me then to insert additional two low notes (instead of the upper D-sharp and E). I had to insert an additional bass string for each register, to move the jack guides by one position, to build a new portion of the key frame and to change the pitchone tone lower. The c'' length then became 36 (instead of 38) cm. I did not even change the steel strings for soft iron, though I did change the plectra (of only 8') from leather to Delrin.2 The instrument, previously painted by Jerusalem artist Julia Lagus, is displayed in Fig. 5.
A historical harpsichord
When I receive a call regarding a harpsichord of symbolical value, I usually investigate the situation immediately. Several years ago, I discovered a Mitchell one-manual French instrument of the late 1970s. I have known William Mitchell, a harpsichord builder, since the mid-1990s. He is one of the most knowledgeable harpsichord experts I have ever met. There are at least five Mitchell harpsichords located in Israel.
The instrument was stored inappropriately, and its condition was really deplorable. I decided to elevate this instrument, modest by its exterior look, to a better condition more appropriate to its noble essence.
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| Fig. 6. Taskin's damper shape |
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| Fig. 7 Mitchell-Rosenblatt harpsichord |
The process of designing a new look, ordering parts, and carrying out the necessary works required about one year. I had to replace a section of the strings in the short octave for those of another width in order to obtain more equal sound. I changed neither the original—narrow—space between the neighbor strings, nor the rarely used damper shape designed after Tascin's model (Fig. 6), i.e., the features provided a maximal plectra length (6.5 mm), very soft damping, and resonance from the inactivated register. The transposing keyboard (a'=415–440 Hz) received an additional position at a'=392 Hz. The new lute buffs made of soft felt now function on the rear 8' register. New legs, a music stand, moldings around the case, and a rose on the soundboard substantially enriched the exterior. The lit painting, a night panorama of old Jaffa made by Safed artist Masha Orlovich, lent the instrument an authentic nuance, being a “local motif” characteristic for lit paintings of keyboard instruments during the Renaissance and Baroque periods. The “last cord” was a name board with the two names of the builders. The instrument is now in the condition visible in Fig. 7.
Fade out
“Hi, Alex, looking for challenge?” The clear voice of Natalie, a red-haired harpsichordist, is full of friendly intrigue. “My spinet…”
I have to go, and my readers will not know what kind of experience is waiting for me this time. However, you already know that even though we do not seek challenges, they are waiting for us, for people whose everyday lives are so closely connected to previous centuries.
For restorers of musical instruments.
1. For details on this principle, see: A. Rosenblatt, ‘A Keyboard Instrument in a Photograph. A Reed Organ at the House of German Clergy in Jerusalem: Meditating on a Photograph from the late 1920s,’ FoMRHI Quarterly 114, November 2009, p. 12.↩
2. As an example of an “unconsidered human factor,” this story may provide information for determining how to handle complicated cases regarding rebuilt musical instruments. For such a case, see: A. Rosenblatt, ‘A Keyboard Instrument in a Museum. A Rebuilt Italian Harpsichord at the Metropolitan Collection (NY): Restoring a Chain of Events’, FoMRHI Quarterly 115, March 2010.↩
