I am a sucker for sentimentality. I have a shoebox full
of old notes from high school and every birthday card I’ve ever been given. The
writing in them fills me with pleasure and restores memories long forgotten. I’m
amazed at how a simple musical instrument can have the same effect. Judging from the
story of my great-great-grandpa’s violin, I do believe sentimentality (and hoarding) must
be inherited.
Grandpa Max would bring the violin out at Christmas, after much
begging from the children. He would tune the strings, run the bow across the
top, and play German Christmas songs.
Grandpa Max died, then Grandma, and here was grandpa’s violin. My
brother, two sisters, and I were the recipients of their possessions since my
daddy had died earlier. When it came time, the family got together to dispose
of the merchandise, tools, play toys, dishes, radios, TV sets, and clothing. Being
older and not able to play it, the rest of them didn’t want anything to do with
the violin. I said I’d like to have it because I played the saxophone and could
tinker on the piano. Since it was an auction among the family, the question
was, “What would you give for it?” I said 25 dollars. The reaction was, “Well,
it’s yours.” Grandpa Max’s violin wound up coming to our house where it stayed
untouched in the closet for almost 30 years.
In September of 2004, Grandma and I were up in east Texas in Jefferson.
Grandma took an Aladdin lamp to get an original lampshade. I noticed across the
street was a music store called Der Baskit Kase. Damn, it hit me! I went over
there and talked to that ole boy that owned the place. I saw that he made, rebuilt,
and reworked—new, as well as antique—string instruments of all kinds. I asked if
he would look at my grandfather’s violin and make it playable if I sent it to
him.
“Oh yeah, just send it to me.”
So, I put it in the box and sent it.
He called back with an estimate. First off, he said the case was no
good. It had dust mites, which attack the bowstrings. He threw it in the
dumpster. He replaced the bow hairs and all other parts on the violin he deemed
necessary; the total labor amounted to 40 dollars. He told me when he called
about shipping it back that he was going to send along an estimate on the monetary
value of this violin, as he is a licensed instrumental appraiser. What really
shocked me was this letter:
September 6, 2004
Ref: Otto Bruckner violin - 1937
Dear Mr. Ray Mickan,
A fine reproduction of Antonius Stradivarius 1716 violin. In 1964
these violins sold for $450.00 dollars. In today’s market the value is estimated
at $1,943.90. This estimate does not include a case and bow. The bow is
original of pernambuco wood and select quality and has a value of around $200.00
dollars.
This would be an excellent violin outfit for an advanced student.
Sincerely,
Don Clampett
I called him and said, “What do you mean by Otto Bruckner violin?” He
said “Well, if you would take that violin and look in the bottom of the case,
you’ll see that it’s got a card printed with the words Otto Brückner, and the u
has an umlaut, which means it’s pronounced ‘Brickner’. The date right under
that is marked 1937, and then it says „handmade copie of Antonius Stradivarius“
Germany. He said he would recommend insurance to ship it back because it is a
valuable violin. The insurance and shipping would cost 31 dollars and 60 cents.
I’m anxious to go back to Jefferson sometime. Someday, I want to take
this thing out again and really play with it because he fixed me up with a good
violin case and that told me that there was no bullshit about him. Especially thinking
back to a time when he could have told me, “Nah—ain’t worth fixin’. Do you
wanna sell it? I’ll give you fifty dollars.”
That’s the story on Grandpa’s violin.
