



Two events occurred over the past year that have mitigated my progress on the instrument. The first involves the jacks. I had been deliberating about whether to make them or purchase them from Norm Purdy, a world-class jack maker who lives about three hours south of me in Eugene, Oregon. First, I attempted to make them. When I realized it took a lot more focus than I had been giving it, I decided to simply purchase them from Norm at $5 per jack, which would cost me something on the order of $625. I consider this a great investment, even though the client paying for the instrument is me.





Then, I had an extended conversation with master builder, Owen Daly , who convinced me it would be in my long term best interest to make a set so I would, in Owen's words, "know what to look for when purchasing them in the future." So, it was back to making jacks, which involved using a tongue punching jig Owen had loaned me, figuring out how to line things up, making miniscule cuts with chisels, etc. It was overwhelming and, frankly, still is. But I continue to learn something new every day while I finish that elusive first set.





The second event was a business decision centered on making a high quality MIDI keyboard that provides a pluck/tracker touch that can be, for lack of a better term, turned on and off by moving the keyboard. This keyboard can control any music software that accepts MIDI ON/OFF signals. I had written the MIDI encoder software, designed the printed circuit boards, completed multiple three-dimensional CAD drawings over the course of the last year, and started making the first prototype when I hit a crossroads.





Like you, dear reader, I have experienced several watershed moments in my life. Moments in which a binary set of options were presented and I, in my infinite wisdom, chose the wrong one. I have many examples I will not bore you with here. As I was in the shop trying to figure out where to store wood and parts and pieces and keyboards, I realized my heart was just not in the MIDI work as much as I thought it would be. Sure, it's fun discovering new ways to do things and to create a dedicated microcontroller and to work with PCB design software, but, ultimately, it's not what I want to do. Maybe someday, but not right now.





So, the MIDI work goes on the shelf indefinitely and I'm back to making harpsichords full time. Of course, by "full time," I mean when I'm not completely exhausted from the day job and distracted by honey-dos and the exigencies of everyday life (this crazy virus-that-shall-not-be-named thing notwithstanding). It's harpsichords or bust at Tortuga Early Instruments Worldwide Headquarters moving forward. Watch for more posts here as I reengage in what I truly love and what started me down this path in the first place.





Another event that is heavily influencing how I approach work in the shop is the recent acquisition of a 1985 Zuckerman XIV single manual harpsichord kit. Holy cow, I didn't see this one coming. I received an email from Owen a couple of weeks ago that read something along the lines of "Hey, I know a guy who's been talking with a guy who has a Zuckerman kit I think you might want to take a look at." He was right. I ended up purchasing the kit from a nice gentleman who was managing liquidation of his stepmother's estate and it now sits in the shop taking up more room than the Ruckers because it came with all parts, including the stand (yeah, I said that in one breath).





Owen thought it would be a great idea for me to build a kit AFTER I finish the Ruckers. The thing is, the previous owner did not assemble a lot of the instrument, so there is a ton of work left to do on it. Sure, all parts are cut, yet it's in pretty rough shape from sitting on a living room floor for 35 years with several parts stored on the top, which has bowed a bit. I may not be able to salvage the keyboard and I will need to make new upper and lower registers, as well as three sets of jacks - it's an 8'/8'/4'! I'm fine with this because soon I will be a jackmeister. But first...where to put it?





IKEA sells harpsichord kits?!?

Roubo supports Zuckerman



When I picked up the kit, I was feeling a little under the weather and have not felt entirely well for the better part of the last three weeks. No, it's not the virus-that-shall-not-be-named, but I still feel a little squiggy even today. At this point, I'm simply taking stock of what I brought home. I must say, as a former archaeologist, I do feel a combined sense of trepidation/hesitancy/sadness/horror that I will be putting the thing together. I feel as if I've entered the back rooms of a museum and found all the artifacts of the kit intact. It has, at least to me, enormous historical significance, so what better way to honor the Zuckerman organization and what it has meant to so many people over the years, right?





When I do begin building it, I will start up another blog to track my progress, which I assume will be significantly faster than what I've demonstrated here. I'm still learning lessons on a nearly daily basis, but I've been pleased to see that I understand more of what Owen talks with me about and that I can now look at a harpsichord more critically (not in the sense I'm criticizing the builder, but, rather, with a more informed eye) and I like how that feels.





In the meantime, it's back to jack production for the Ruckers. I'll be posting on a much more regular basis here, so please come back early and often.





Until next time...

As you know, it's been far too long since I've posted here. I've been, in a word, sidetracked with another project and have kept my commitment to neither the instrument nor you, my dear reader. Please accept my apology. Now...an explanation.