Harp Column Blogs: Samuel Milligan

No matter how hard he tried, my father simply couldn't manage to get very far ahead financially.  This in spite of all the virtues--he didn't drink or smoke, and was an indefatigable and compulsive worker.  He was able to provide all the necessities, but certain expenses were not even to be considered, such as a pedal harp.

I had a Clark Irish harp, for which Papa paid either fifty or seventy dollars--I can't remember which--both amounts stick in my mind after all these years.  This may not sound like very much money, but it was a considerable chunk out of Papa's resources.

Naturally, I dreamed of owning a pedal harp, and I wrote Lyon & Healy for a catalog.  It was just after the Second World War, and they had not yet printed one, but had managed to produce a price list on the cover of which was a picture of the newly introduced natural finish Style 15.

It was gorgeous, of course, but cost the staggering amount of $995.  (To get an idea of prices in those days, note that a gilded 23 cost $3,950.)  I treasured the picture but the actual possession of a pedal harp was to remain a fantasy for some time to come. 

I went to school entirely on scholarships and played school instruments up until my senior year, when I was able to affaord a used (very used) pedal harp.

A MATTER OF EMPATHY

All this being so, I could understand the situation of Basel Sara, whose postings on the Harp Column Forum indicated that he was in the same potition that I had been in at one time--ready to make a living playing, but with no possibility of affording an instrument.

So I was pleased when I learned that Carl Swanson had taken Mr. Sara's situation in hand.  This was without Mr. Sara's knowledge, by the way, since Carl meant for it to be a surprise.  Looking for a suitable instrument, Carl mentioned his search to Bill Grant, the local harp technician here in New York.  Now it happened that a lady on Long Island had a harp that was derelict.  She told Bill that she didn't want it, and if he didn't take it she was going to trash it.  Bill had no use for it, but mentioned it to Carl.

The harp had indeed seen better days.  Carl rebuilt the action and Venus harps installed a new sounding board, all at no cost.  About that time I heard about the project from Bill and called Carl to offer to help in some way, possibly with shipping costs.  He said that a more pressing need was extra strings, which I was happy to supply.  Several harpists also donated music for which they had duplicates or else figured they would never get around to learning.

Please note that my gift was my own idea.  Had Carl asked for something, I would doubtless have refused.  I choose my own charities, and have a knee-jerk reaction against special pleadings of any ilk.  Carl, too, chooses his charities, and it should be noted that at no time did Mr. Sara importune him for anything whatever.

THE 8th DEADLY SIN--SEEING EVIL WHERE NO EVIL EXISTS

On learning what we had done, a totally officious friend of mine who tends to leap to wrong conclusions (invariably based on inadequate information), announced that we had been the victims of a scam.  I explained that none of this had been instigated by Mr. Sara, and that after 75 years on this planet, I have a fairly good idea how scams work.  (Morever, AARP is constantly telling those of my generation what to look for in this regard.)

"Nevertheless," my friend said, determined to have the last word, "you shouldn't have sent the strings."  At that my indignation boiled over and I pointed out pretty tersely that it is MY money, and that I will spend it where and how I choose without advice from him or anyone else.  He apologized, and I apologized for snapping at him and so we resumed what has over the years become a pretty tenuous friendship. 

Anyhow, shortly after Mr. Sara received the harp, all those who made the gift possible received very nice letters from him thanking us for our contributions. 

After that, when I next saw my officious friend, I derived a nasty bit of pleasure pointing out the obvious.  Con artists grab the money and run.  Con artists do not write thank-you letters.

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

Let me add that my own dream had come true a bit earlier in 2003 when I bought a nice used natural finish Style 15.  Great little harp.  Good, powerful, focused sound throughout, totally silent action and a joy for portability.  Visually, it has a bang here and there, but then, so do I.  Let me add that I got it for a bargain price--slightly more than ten times what that model sold for when it was introduced in 1946.

Brooklyn, NY July 18, 2007 

A local harpist who recently bought a new harp called me to ask what she should use to clean her bass wire strings when they eventually "get dirty."  I told her that I had no idea, since I don't clean my wire strings.  Long before they might need such treatment, I throw them in the trash where they belong.  (Recycling bin, actually.)

Because no cleaning can ever restore the original brightness of sound.

String sound, particularly that of the compound wire strings, is a very complex affair, in that there are several pitches involved--the fundamental, which the ear most readily hears, plus many upper partials, all the way up the harmonic series which add brilliance to the fundamental.

Now while these wire-string partials are not very audible, they also reinforce the sound of the upper octaves.  For example, if I play a III-C, it will cause an upper pari ial on the VI-C string to vibrate slightly in sympathy, adding to the resonance.  And since the III-C pitch is found in the partials of other wire strings, they too contribute reinforcement.

NO PRESENCE

If you would like to hear how much the wires contribute to the rest of the harp, try winding a piece of cloth through them to prevent them from sounding, then play on the unmuted octaves.  A large part of the resonance will have disappeared, leaving the sound lifeless.  The sound has no "presence," as Laura Newell used to say. 

But those partials on the wire strings disappear with age, and no cleaning will ever totally restore them.  Partly because dirt and tarnish are only parts of the problem--once strings are put under tension, the deterioration of the sound begins.  So as the wires age, the harp loses brilliance.  Of course, it happens so gradually that we fail to notice it and only when replacing the wires does the difference become obvious.

Moreover, new wires contribute materially to the audibility of the instrument, something that the orchestral harpist might take into account when battling the trombones to be heard.

Anyhow, forget cleaning.  It's a false economy.

DO AS THE FRENCH DO

Both Grandjany and Salzedo were examples of French thrift, in that neither spent money needlessly.  Yet Salzedo changed the wire strings completely in September, before the concert season began, then changed the upper five wires, G to C, again six months later.

Grandjany totally restrung the whole harp, top to bottom in September, plus new wires and new first, second and third octave guts shortly before any recital or concert, depending of course on how old they were.  (Not only do new gut strings sound better, having had no time to become false, but are less apt to break in the middle of a concert.)  But there's little need to replace September's strings in October, wire or  gut.

All this restringing was a matter of regular maintenance for both these men for one simple reason.  It was important that they sound their best in public.

TAKING CARE OF MY FRIENDS

I agree. I only keep one pedal harp these days, but I replace all the wires twice a year, to assure my harp being at its best and brightest and making me less likely to endanger my immortal soul by cursing the hapless trombone players.  I redo the top three octave (all gut) once a year and the topmost strings (down to I-F) twice a year.

I have two lever harps--a Swanson (five wires) and a Lyon & Healy Lyric (ten wires). The wires are changed once a year on both.  The upper strings (all gut) get changed whenever I feel that they are about due, which is to say whenever I start having some breakage.

Am I extravagant?  No.  I dont think so.  The harp is a very important part of my life--in fact, it rather defines me as a person--and so deserves the best care that I can afford.  In a way my harps are my good friends, and good friends are entitled to the finest, I think.

Consider this.  The harp is a tool for making music, and any craftsman worth his daily beans and hamhock knows the importance of keeping his tools in the best shape possible. 

Remember--a harp is no better than the strings that are on it.  Moreover, I paid thousands of dollars for the instruments, and I wouldn't insult them (or my audience) by letting the strings get ratty. 

Brooklyn, NY

July 4, 2007

Many harpists are unaware that the Gabriel Pierne Impromptu-caprice used to be available in two versions--the original "concert" edition and a somewhat simpler "salon" edition which made the piece available to the less advanced player.

(It should be noted that the salon edition was done by Pierne himself, and is not a simplification by someone else.)

I recall going to a recital in the late 1950's where a young lady played the salon version and played it quite beautifully.  For what I heard was a harpist presenting a piece within her capabilities, and playing it exquisitely, rather than plowing through the concert version and possibly making a hash of it.  So I got in line after the recital in order to thank her for her performance.

As it happened, just in front of me in the receiving line were two whispering harpists who were snottily putting down the recitalist for having played what they snidely called the "baby" version.  Of course this did not stop them from effusively congatulating the recitalist a few moments later--"So beautiful, my dear," and " I did so love the Pierne!"

Their smiling hypocrisy was so appalling that I could have fallen through the floor in embarassment and shame.  Especially since the recitalist was so appreciative of their compliments.

The experience taught me two things.  First, I learned that a piece is not increased in value by being more difficult.  In fact, clarity and elegance are often easier to achieve when the music is uncomplicated.  (Ravel's Pavane de la Belle au bois dormant is a fine example of this.)

Secondly, I learned that some people are not to be trusted.  If someone constantly indulges in mean-spirited gossip, I can pretty well be certain that as soon as I am absent, I will probably be the next victim in line for a hatchet job.

Now this doesn't mean that we should not comment on a program at all.  But the criticism should be constructive, not venomous.  And above all, I must remember that my own playing is not made better by a vicious put-down of your playing, and may be, in fact, thinly disguised jealousy on my part.

I have no idea whatever happened to the young lady who presented the recital after she left New York.  But as to the other two, after years of letting everyone within earshot know what rising supernovae they were in the harpistic firmament, they amounted to nothing in the end.  Perhaps they were so busy being destructive that they didn't have time to practice enough. 

And as we all know, it's very difficult to set the world on fire if your matches are damp.