The Keyboard - Part Two

Enough fussing over the keyboard!  A few of the naturals are a little heavy and don't pop back up when I depress them, but they're moving well, so I'm not overly concerned. I expect the keys to behave when I lighten them later on.  I have to admit that it bothered me for the longest time, but it pays to read ahead. (Actually, it pays to read the entire manual before beginning.)  I had a really hard time dealing with one key in particular that just didn't respond at all. I finally decided the balance pin was the culprit, gave it a tap to line it up better, and voila! Fixed. Everything is now moving in an acceptable way.

Time to add the cherry wood sharps. 

I laid a nice, perfectly-sized, heavy level across the keys, checked the distance between the white keys, making sure they were reasonably equal. Any that seemed off a little had their sides sanded to help even up those spaces or received a tap to their balance pin. Using the level's straight edge, I set the first and last cherry tops on the keys, keeping a 1/16" gap between the front of the sharp and the back of the cutout on the naturals and visually centering them between the neighboring naturals.The manual said to clamp the straight edge down, but for the life of me, I just couldn't see it.  The level had enough weight by itself. 

And by the by, there is a front and back to those sharps!

The glue went on those two sharps and I backed them up against the level/straight edge. I left them alone for 24 hours, just to be safe. The next day, I glued the remaining sharps, again taking care to visually center them between their neighboring naturals and butting the back sides up against the level. Easy. Again, another 24 hours to dry.

Next came rounding all the edges of the keys. The manual suggested using a mill bastard file, but ever the independent one, I turned again to my trusty Dremel and sanding sponges. Lots of dust, but the naturals all look really nice with their rounded, almost beveled edges. They look as if they are a bit worn from years and years of playing.  

The edges of the sharps were simply softened with the sanding sponge. I love them!  

I plan to sand all the keys with finer and finer grades of sand paper, but I'm waiting until I roof the keys.  Oh yes, I can't resist. I'll be roofing those babies!  When I am finished with that, I'll treat the key covers (both sharps and naturals) and key front moldings to a coat of tung oil - the same oil I used on the case.

As for the roofing....

I'm not a woodworker. I don't carve. But I just have to take this extra step. This will require a little bit of study on my part and probably a whole lot of time!  Stay tuned...

The Keyboard

I actually have spent an inordinate amount of time fiddling around with the keyboard. Every key has been lightly sanded on the sides to make them all nice and smooth and the little thumbnails were glued in and shaped. I used my trusty Dremel.

With the keys all returned to the rack, I looked for any that seemed to lean a little bit right or left, causing the spaces between the keys to be uneven. A little tap to the balance pins one way or the other helped. 

The north/south unevenness of the keys will be corrected later on when I balance them. But that's a ways down the road.

To help me get a good visual, I took the name board and fall board and laid them across the backs of the keys to hold them all down equally. 

Much better.

I'll probably do a little sanding on the sides of a few of the keys to even up a couple of spaces that still need some more help.  

Next came inspecting the ends of the (soon to be) black keys.  The ends of many of them were really chewed up, almost as if termites had been nibbling away.  

The manual says to make sure the ends look good.  The only fix was wood filler. Not a very good match, but I suspect those ends won't show very much, if at all. And I'm hoping the critical eye will be drawn to the pretty cherry wood tops that will be added next.

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.

Finishing the Cabinet

For arbitrary and capricious reasons (mostly laziness, I suspect), I elected to use tung oil to finish the cabinetry.  I mostly wiped it on with a lint-free cloth.  This first picture shows the difference the tung oil makes on the wood.  Since the Flemish harpsichords I built had painted cabinets, I was totally inexperienced with finishing nice wood, so I was really surprised at how much the tung oil darkened up the cherry.

Here I am applying tung oil to the clavichord stand.

This next shot shows the various parts of the lid which are drying.  I took extra care to avoid getting the oil on those areas of the lid's frame that will be glued.  The center panel needs to float with the humidity and is not glued into place, but is simply held by the lid's frame.  Since I have no way of truly knowing if the center panel is fully dry or not, the possibility exists for it to shrink in size a little, thus exposing more of its unglued edges. By finishing the entire center panel before assembling it with the fourth side of the lid's frame, I will prevent an unstained edge from appearing should the wood ever shrink. Look at that glow!

Here's a little fine brushwork on the soundboard molding.  I stuck down two widths of masking tape on the soundboard in case I got a little sloppy.  I removed the tape very quickly after the second coat of tung oil was applied to prevent any sticky residue from making itself too comfortable on the soundboard.

Two coats did the job with a 24-hour drying period in between.  The second coat took about half the time of the first coat.  Tung oil sure stinks, but I'm really pleased with the results. 

As promised...the music desk

I've removed the butterfly hinges in preparation for applying a nice finish to the cabinet, but you can see how the desk looks sans clamps.  Next time you see me, I'll be covered in tung oil.

The Music Desk

This was pretty simple.  With the lid opened, I measured the keyboard opening, found its center and marked it on the inside lid about an inch up from the bottom.  I then measured the length of music desk, found its center, marked it.  After marking 1" up from the bottom of the lid in several places where the desk would be placed, I applied a generous amount of glue to the desk and matched the center mark for the keyboard opening with the center mark on the desk, being careful to line up the bottom of the desk with the 1" marks so the desk would be level.  I clamped it on both ends, mopped up excess glue that squeezed out, and called it done.  

Of course, it is possible to glue the desk on incorrectly, but I managed to get it right.  The stack of National Geographic Magazines was eventually piled on the center since I only had two clamps handy.  Had my life partner been around, he might have suggested Karl Barth's Church Dogmatics, but the magazines did the trick.  

From another angle:

Next step is to stain the cabinet.  I'll post a few pix as it progresses.

Over-think much?

And now for the butterfly lid hinges.  

I live in mortal fear of drilling a hole in this very expensive clavichord case and then having to fill them, only to have my goofs stand out like a sore thumb.  So installing these hinges took me a while.  I turned those suckers every which way, trying to make sense of it, trying to make them look balanced.  I even called in consultants - both of whom were equally clueless, but between the three of us, I think we got it right, even though it looks wrong.

Of course, I had to turn those hinges every which way because I didn't have any decent pictures to check my work.  Should any hapless (and equally confused) builders happen upon my rantings, I hope at least my photos will be helpful.

The hinges are attached to the outside of the spine of the case and the inside of the instrument lid, so according to the manual you have to take the hinge apart and flip one side for that to work.  I'm not a cabinet maker, I'm not a carpenter, I don't build hinged boxes on a daily basis, so I just did like I was told.  The pretty hinges were suddenly unbalanced.  Wonker-jayed, if you will.  (I just made up that word, I think.)  We thought it had to be wrong.  They reminded me of a shirt that's been buttoned up one off.  Here's a shot of the left hinge as you're looking at the back of the case (which, in reality, will be the right hinge when you're seated at the instrument).

See what I mean?  Wonky.  Yuck.  I suffer from positional vertigo (and sometimes worse), so anything this crooked doesn't help.  And I wanted both hinges to be mirror images. Unfortunately, they're going to be parallel because there's no way to do what my all-things-in-balance self wants.  So be it.  

So, now, lots of pictures starting with the hinge on the right (which will really be on the left when playing the instrument). 

To get to the point pictured above, I positioned the hinges three inches from the edge of the lid and drew circles where I was going to drill pilot holes for the screws.

Next, I tapped a small nail set with my hammer to start a hole so the drill bit wouldn't skidder (another word I just made up) all over the place.

All this was done on the spine as well.  Of course, the directions said to measure and mark the lid to make sure it was perfectly centered over the case.  I didn't do that.  I went by feel, which for me was much easier and would be far more accurate, made my marks, tapped, drilled.  Taped a little flag on the drill bit to ensure I wouldn't drill too deep.  My lid is dead on!  

We tightened down the hinges on the lid, screwed the other half of the hinge to the spine, tested for smoothness of action and made sure the hinge wasn't chewing up the cabinet.  It worked.  I don't understand it, but that's okay.  I don't understand discrete math either, and I've survived.

Not too shabby, huh?  Now, I know some of you are going to say, "Hey, you put the lid on in reverse.  That should be on the outside."  Nope.  The beautiful beveling in the wood should be seen when the case is open, not when it's closed.  These little instruments are not meant for performance.  They were designed to be practice instruments.  No one was going to see (much less hear) the instrument in a concert setting.  And when the instrument wasn't being used, it was most likely stored under a bed or somewhere else out of sight.  Fancy case as a piece of furniture not required.  Flash forward to 2013.  If you want to be authentic, you put the plain side out so that you open up with the pretty side facing you when you're practicing.  And even if you don't agree with my logic, there is actually one decent picture of the instrument supplied with the manual that clearly shows the lid attached as I attached it.  

Finally, I drilled some pilot holes for the little screw eyes that will be used with cord to hold the cabinet lid open.  I figured out the placement without too much hemming and hawing.  The cord is a piece of crap that unravels without any encouragement.  Zuckermann could save itself a penny or two and just leave it out of the kit.  I'll be buying something much more appropriate for permanent use.

Manual review for this section:  Include a lot more pictures from different angles because the written description about the hinges is clear as mother's milk, and the final look of the hinges is just wrong to my eye.  I've never seen hinges on a lid like this, but then I've never attached hinges from the outside to the inside before.  The hinges on the harpsichords were all on the outside, logical, a piece of cake.  Nevertheless, this appears to work despite being counter-intuitive to my artist's eye.

Next time I check in, I'll show the little music desk glued on.  

Back in the Saddle

Light breezes today presented an almost ideal setting for sanding the clavichord lid, which consists of five parts:  four sides which make up a frame and one center panel.  I disassembled the pieces and sanded each one thoroughly, starting with 100 grit, and then switching over to a medium grit sanding sponge block and finishing with a fine grit sponge block.  

I found a little dowel in my trusty pencil cup and used it wrapped in sandpaper to smooth up the cove moldings.  I have to say, I really love those soft sanding blocks.  Using the edge is perfect for the little carved edges of the frame.  The breezes carried away most of the sawdust.  What remained was cleaned up with a tack cloth.

The center panel is designed to float as temperature and humidity increase and decrease, so it will not be glued to the frame.  However, at this stage, I did glue three of the sides of the frame together, making sure the panel would still slide in easily.  After I varnish and wax, I'll finish the assembly and glue the fourth side of the frame in place (avoiding the surfaces where the glue will go).

  

I feel like I'm in the home stretch with the cabinet, and I guess I am.  Since I have built the stand, I don't need to bother with designing and carving some little feet for the instrument.  All I need to do is attach the music desk and attach the butterfly hinges to the lid.  Then I'll go over the cabinet once more with a sanding sponge before varnishing and waxing.  Stay tuned to hear all about it.

I'm baaack!!!

After a lengthy break which involved hunting for a new house, jumping through all the new hoops to get a mortgage, moving into said house, and trying to find some sort of part-time musical employment, life has settled down, and I actually put in a little work on the clavichord.  I'll admit to procrasination and for good reason.  Tiny parts involved, and I felt like all thumbs.  But, a simple procedure, really.  First, in order to make them true butt hinges, I had to whack the little brass darlings that hold the fallboard to the case with a hammer.  Next, I located where to place the hinges by using the blueprint.  Using an Exacto knife, I carved out a little niche on the case and the fallboard in which to nestle the hinges so they would be flush with the wood.


The manual said to use a sharp chisel which "demands care," but let's get real.  I'm not a skilled woodworker.  I have to work small and slow, and a chisel is just asking for trouble.  The little knife did just fine, thank you very much.  I then drilled pilot holes with my Dremel and the #57 bit and screwed four tiny little screws through the hinges and into the pilot holes.  I did a couple of these very successfully, but what a test of patience!  I called in my husband to help hold things steady, and while four hands and a flashlight directed under the hinge so I could see what I was doing did make it easier, it was still tricky.  When I was certain everything lined up and looked just right, I removed the hinges and put them away.  Can't slop Minwax all over the brass now can we...  Anyway, here are a couple more shots of my work.

The Stand

Just a quick post to show the clavichord atop the stand.  Ain't it purdy???

The next steps will lead to completion of the case as well as putting my artistic talents to work in creating some art work to identify me as the builder.  I'm looking forward to that!

Stand Assembly

Ah, yes.  The stand for which I fought long and hard.  It was a piece of cake to assemble! The legs, front and back aprons, and side aprons are held together with glue and mortise and tenon joinery.  After sanding the legs and apron with a fine sanding sponge, I did a quick dry run, then applied glue into the mortises (slots carved into the legs and apron) and inserted the loose tenons (little blocks of grooved wood).  When the legs and aprons are all joined up tight, those little tenons don't show.  Not being a woodworker, I'm totally unfamiliar with all these terms and methods of joinery, so I found it all very fascinating and rather gratifying to end up with a neatly finished stand where the wood pieces that contribute to its solidity are completely hidden. Very cool.  Although the manual didn't mention it, I pulled out the clamping blocks and rope that I used to make the case rim. This sucked all the pieces together very nicely.  Here is a picture of the stand with clamping blocks and rope in "dead bug" position while the glue dries.

I ran out of the Titebond glue halfway through, so I pulled out Aleene's original (and trusty) Tacky Glue which I have found to be one of the best glues on the market.  Why I ran out of the Titebond is a bit of a mystery because I had glue to spare when I built my harpsichords.  Although this bottle is much smaller than that supplied with my harpsichord kits, I am theorizing that the winter atmosphere here in Nebraska is so dry, I used more glue because it was setting up so fast!  Quite different from July in Chicago. Nevertheless, I am forging ahead with Aleene's.  I am incredibly happy that Zuckermann came through and finally sent me a complete stand after four years of patient effort.  Thank you, Steve. I am not mad at you anymore!

The Stand Arrived

Just a quick update here.  It only took four years, umpteen emails to Zuckermann, one anonymous phone call to see if their email was working, and about four months of effort from the Better Business Bureau, but I finally received a complete clavichord stand.  I did an immediate dry run to see if everything was there (oh please, dear Lord, let it all be there because I can't take much more of this), and I am happy to report that I finally have everything I need to construct a very expensive clavichord stand.  I am a happy camper.