Jigs and Assorted Pins

It took two brains and three hands (four if you count the pliers), but the hitchpins, balance pins, felt punchings, and backrail felt are now in place.

The balance pins were easy enough.  We needed a small piece of wood to make a jig.  A piece of Robert Shields's handcrafted (and signed) furniture came to the rescue.  A small block of wood fell off the bottom of this cabinet and we realized it was the perfect size for our needs.  Isn't it a great cabinet?

The little block of wood measured 5/8" which was the exact size I needed.  We drilled a hole through it with a #30 bit which allowed the balance pins to slip through easily.

 

So this musician turned work worker learned that "jig" is more than a dance form.

Next, we tackled the hitchpins.  This was far trickier because they're lined up very closely together.  I had already drilled the holes, so it was just a matter of tapping these little darlings into place.  They needed to be tapped to a uniform height, so we marked the needle-nose pliers with masking tape to show us where 5 millimeters' distance would be. Since these pins are very close to the wall of the case, we felt very clumsy and all thumbs, but we got it done with the help of the nail set used upside down.  We felt we had better control using it that way.  I held the nail set, and my husband did the rest.

Because the needle nose pliers are tapered, we just measured the point at which the height of the pliers was 5 mm and marked it with tape.  When the hitchpin was level with the top of the pliers, we knew we were at the proper depth.  It was a jig of another sort, I suppose.  Here's a shot of us working on the pins on the backrail.

And here is a shot of the pins all in their proper places in the bass hitchpin rail.  As you can see, the wood got a little marred in the process, but I believe that when the strings are in place, it won't be very noticeable.  Down the road, I may decide to refinish those spots before I string.  I'll just have to see how I feel about it.

My third hand was gone when I laid the black backrail felt.  Again, it seemed like I had ten thumbs, but by wedging the needle nose pliers against the balance pins while the nose of the tool held the little 1/2" nails in place, I managed to get five or six nails tapped into the cloth using the wrong end of the nail set once again.  The little red felt punchings went on the balance pins, and this day's work on the clavichord was done.

 

Keywell Label

The word "label" in the instructions finally hit home.  My wheels grind slowly...

I had a couple spare Avery 22809 labels.  They are a fun shape, and the texture is like a laid linen, so one was pressed (get it?) into service.  Using Avery's online template service, I found an acceptable design, filled in my name, location, and description of the instrument, and then added a small picture of myself.  Now when the instrument is discovered in some dusty old junk store by a wise and wonderful keyboard musician of the future, s/he might notice something hiding beneath the keys.  Closer inspection will reveal all my info with a very small picture of me, the builder!  I thought it was a unique, albeit 21st century, touch to my little clavichord.  Check it out!

The Box is Complete!

Who knew that finding a 1/2" knob would be so tricky?  I searched high and low at every local place you can imagine:  antique stores, Menard's, Lowe's, you name it, I was there.  No dice.  Or rather, no knob to my liking.  After expanding my search to online sources, I finally found a suitable knob at MyKnobs.com (but of course) - a perfect little burnished brass thing that was just the ticket at $2.73!  What a bargain!  I placed the order.  Shipping was $7.95.  

Wait.  

What????

Here's the little knob:

And here's the box in which it came!

Okay, so the knob ended up costing $10.68.  Here's a news flash to MyKnobs.com:  You can put that little 1/2" sucker in a small padded envelope and mail it First Class for under $3.00.  I swear, the bigger the company, the dumber they come.

Anyway, I drilled a hole in the center of the box lid, measured the screw for length and then cut it off with a cutoff wheel on my trusty Dremel, and voila!  Here it is!

How stinkin' cute is that?!?  I did have to trim the lid a smidge to get a perfect fit, but it was no big deal.

All that is left is placing my identifying mark on either the nameboard or on the inside of the instrument close to the hitchpin rail.  Since most builders did the latter, I believe that's what I'll do as well.  Pix to follow.

So, I'm finally at the point of No More Excuses (unless you count my piano students, my kiln adventures and orders, and a backlog of mysteries on my Kindle).  It's time to move on to the guts of the instrument.  I better get after it before Daniel Silva's new book comes out in July because I will be unavailable until The Heist has been devoured and thoroughly savored.

Fiddling with the Box

I wanted to line the box with something that was not permanent; something that I could remove if I changed my mind or wanted some variety, or could be replaced if it became soiled or tired looking.  The idea I came up with was to somehow adhere a fabric liner to the box.  I wandered Hancock fabrics and waited for something to call to me.  Here's what I found!

  

To stick the fabric to the inside of the box, I chose Aleene's 2-Sided Adhesive Sheets.  Since the inside shape of the box is a little tricky, I cut paper templates and cut the fabric to match the shapes, making sure I had at least 1/4" of fabric to turn under and create clean edges.  The adhesive sheets are very thin and extremely sticky and are holding the fabric very nicely. 

Here's a picture of the finished liner with the tuning hammer stored inside.  

Yes, it's totally out of character for the instrument, but it's my little secret.  With the lid in place, no one will know about it except me.  Using old, yellowed music might have been a better idea, but I wanted something a little softer.  Fabric made sense.  Besides, I can always change it in a heartbeat!

I'm now on the hunt for a little knob to put in the center of the box's lid and did actually come close while digging through drawers of hardware odds and ends in an antique store located in Omaha's Old Market area.  "Close" is the keyword.  Looks like I'll be ordering something off the Internet.  Stayed tuned.