The Great Romero Banjo Saga

How an 18 month wait became 5 and a half years

Way back in the winter of '12, my good buddy Ken, who was considering the advantages of a career as a luthier, came across a video published by The Fretboard Journal about a banjo maker and his artist wife who made some awfully nice banjos.

Even if you're not a picker, it's a pretty interesting & beautiful video

They had me in the first 2 minutes. By the time the video had finished playing, I had found their website and sent them an email:

... When I was 5 years old, I saw Pete Seeger picking a banjo on Sesame Street and I knew I had to have one... my folks however, weren't as convinced. After a few more years of pestering, they finally relented and found me a used 5 string and at the tender age of 9 they found me a banjo teacher. I've played off and on over the years, and now, in my mid 40's I think it's safe to say, I will play this thing til I die. Your instruments are gorgeous and one can really see the heart that goes into creating them. I am ready to sign up.
 

The next day, I got this reply from Jason:

Many thanks for this email - I really appreciate it. Sounds like you have a great story - we've always wanted to make it down to NM..... Right now I'm around 18 months out from ordering to delivery. I ask for a $200 (non-refundable) deposit to hold your spot in line...

I sent my deposit that day. That was February 20th, 2012. 18 months would put us in the late summer of 2013. In March of 2013, I asked him how the schedule was holding up. His reply:

We are looking a bit later than summer '13. We've been touring so much that it's set me back a bit in the schedule, but I'm doing my best to catch up. Looking at probably around late fall '13 - but if I have any changes to that I'll let you know.....

Well, late summer cruised on by and according to his newsletters he sent out occasionally, it was beginning to become obvious that 18 months was a bit more than optimistic. In July of 2014 however, his newsletter noted that he was:

Now building orders received in late 2011 and early 2012.

Hey! that's me. "Mine is coming up quick!", I thought. But then the newsletters seemed to appear less and less frequently and it became apparent that I too was being overly optimistic as this email went out to all of us on his waitlist in April of 2015 (three years since I'd sent my deposit):

Dearest patient banjo afficionado,

I’m writing to let you know I haven’t forgotten about you. We have had an unexpectedly full last few of years that have given us a beautiful daughter, a busy touring schedule, and now three duo albums to our name. It has also meant less time in the banjo workshop than I had expected, and because of that I am behind on my build schedule. We are working hard - often seven days a week - to keep up, but there is no doubt that banjos are going out quite a bit later than I originally estimated. If the time has already come when you were expecting your custom build, and you haven’t heard from me, this is why. We are a small shop (just the two of us usually) and everything we make is custom, so I know that many of you expect the time between ordering and delivery to be an inexact science. I still wanted to let you know that I'm further behind than I ever anticipated, and am very much looking forward to slowing down on touring, enjoying some time at home, and focusing on our family, property, and building some beautiful instruments.

So I really haven’t forgotten about you, and if anything the opposite is true. I look forward to working with every custom banjo client, and am excited to have more time dedicated to being in the workshop again. Please get in touch if you have any concerns or questions.

All the best,

Jason & Pharis

So I waited patiently for nearly another year. And as we were just beginning to get used to the idea of 2016, I got this message from Jason:

Hope this finds you doing well, with a great start to 2016. I'm writing to let you know that I'm getting ready to start a new batch of banjos soon, and am looking forward - after your long wait! - to including your banjo in that build. I really appreciate your patience with the extra time it took to get to your build.

If you are ready and this works for you, please take a look at my checklist at www.romerobanjos.com/checklist.html, and let me know what specs you're thinking of. We'll build up a price for the banjo with the specs, and get everything approved before building. Once we're into the build and everything has been finalized, I'll send off the final invoice to you - this is usually a couple weeks before the banjo is finished. I would anticipate your new banjo being ready to send to you in February.

If you're not ready for the build, no problem, but if you could let me know right away that would be great.

Thanks and all the best to you - looking forward to working with you on a new banjo....

Jason

Wow! he's gonna ship me a banjo in February. I opened another bottle of Vivác champagne!

I sent him an excited reply with this drawing as a template for the neck inlay: 

Well, then he started getting all experimental on me:

 Just a quick clarification…… do you want a traditional bluegrass style with the gibson style flange/resonator rest OR an open back with L-shoes with one of my small vega style resonators?

If you want the first option I might suggest postponing just a few more months. I’m in the process of developing my own Gibson style brass flange but with my own decorative cut-outs. I’m also coupling this style flange with my Bella Rose tone rings for a new “model" if you will. It will be my answer to the traditional bluegrass banjo. I’ve made many before but have always had to use Gibson copy flanges which is a big part of the overall aesthetic and I’ve been wanting to do this for years …… so I’m very excited. I’m currently working with a few machinists and hope to have the first prototype in about 6 weeks.

 let me know what you think..

What did I think? What the hell did I know... "Well, what’s a couple more months after nearly 4 years? Sure let’s go with your new model!" I dumbly said.

Well, turns out that yet again,  optimism was running rampant at the Romeros. The following month, he sent me this note:

 Hi Jeff,

 I just wanted to let you know the process of developing this new flange is taking much longer than expected. At this point i’m not sure when I’ll have a working sample in my hands. It could be two months but it could be six.

 If you want to move forward with your build using an aged brass gibson style flange I’d be very happy to work this in on my next build starting in around 3 weeks.

Very well then... we'll go with the Gibson style flange. Fine. Whatever.

On March 22, 2016 (more than 4 years since our initial communication) Jason called me and we talked for a bit about the details of what I wanted in terms of woods and finishes and tone. Pharis (his wife who does all the inlay work) emailed me about my design and what I wanted her to use for it... all brass, gold mother of pearl diamonds, brass strands or all gold pearl?

These were some of the details we settled on: Figured maple neck and resonator, synthetic ebony trim, Belle Rose tonering, Fairbanks-Vega peghead, long back strap peghead overlay, light aged brass hardware, curved tailpiece and a goatskin head. And of course the custom design inlay with brass and gold mother of pearl.

My banjo was definitely getting built now. I was sure it would be in my hands before summer! About two weeks later, Pharis sent these images of the cutout inlays before embedding them:

About 10 days later, they sent me these images of the inlaid fretboard, remarking that Pharis had done the work despite having a newborn:

The "vine" is Brass and the "diamonds" are Gold Mother of Pearl.

On May 4th, the Romeros sent an invoice. It was really more than I was comfortable spending, but I knew I would have this thing till I died and *damn* it was such a beautiful instrument, how could I back out now?

I sent a check in and then it was quiet from Horsefly for awhile, so I sent an email to ask what was up. Jason had this to say:

Hi Jeff,

Good to hear from you…… everything is great, just insanely busy. as you know we have a new baby AND are building a new house. i’m on banjos in the morning then the house till i collapse. so this batch has taken a little longer than i’d expected. I put your skin on yesterday and your neck finish and resonator finish is curing. i hope to put it all together next week sometime shipping early the following. I’m very excited to set up another bluegrass style banjo with my bella rose and skin set-up….. i’ll make recordings for the website too

i’ll send pictures of your rim soon….. it looks amazing!

Babies and housebuilding! What do I care about that? Send me my banjo already! And then the new batch of photos came, and I began to appreciate babies and housebuiling a little more:

The resonator. Stretched and stained. That's a goat skin head... I assume from a Canadian goat

This little detail (where the head is a different piece of wood from the neck) is called a back strap. It is made of synthetic ebony. He charged $225 for a detail that only I'm ever gonna see. I gladly paid it.

Most resonator banjos have a metal rod that runs from the base of the banjo up through the neck and into the head stock. Jason invented this sort of bed-post affair that attaches the heel of the neck to the bottom of the tone ring, keeping the banjo lighter and tighter. It probably affects the tone too.

Jason thought it would be a good idea to tease me a bit:

 hey jeff,

 just been playing your banjo and it sounds amazing!

 I'm planning on shipping friday….

That was May 31st, Friday would be June 3rd and I was heading down to Austin for my niece's graduation party. My banjo might just be waiting for me when I got back. I thought.

On Friday as I arrived in Austin, I got this note from Horsefly:

 hi jeff,

i just put up a few pictures of your banjo on my instagram page. it’s all together and sounding AMAZING! the skin head combined with my Bella Rose continues to please me.

 I want to keep it around for the weekend to make sure it’s dialed in and I’ll ship monday for sure!

A couple of the shots he posted on Instagram at the beginning of June 2016.

Monday, for sure he says. OK fine. I guess that's better as it means I'll be there when it arrives rather than having it sit on the porch for any length of time. Anyway, there's beer drinking to be done here in Austin to distract myself!

So yes, my niece graduated and we were all so proud and everything, and on Sunday morning, feeling only slightly groggy, I got back on the road to New Mexico. As I got home, about 8 or so in the evening, I unpacked, grabbed a bite to eat and then I flipped open the iPad to see what the emails had to say. There was an email from Romero Banjo. Subject line simply read, "Fire":

Hi Jeff
I am devistated to tell you we lost our entire operation last night to a fire and everything in it including your beautiful banjo.
I tried to call and will try again
So sorry

At first I thought this was an elaborate hoax... the background was so vivid and incongruous and the signage so oddly placed, it had to be a fake, right?

I quickly sent off a note of dismay and condolences. I mean for me it was "just a banjo", but for these guys... man. Their livelihood... gone. As well as a slew of their own vintage instruments. Fortunately, they DID have insurance and Jason told me he'd send my money back when they got their insurance check. And that once they got the shop rebuilt we'd figure out where to go from there.

The fire made the news. It clearly was not a hoax. I had not been scammed. Sure it was a disappointment after so much anticipation, but really, all along it was just an idea anyway. I really did feel bad for the Romeros... but they were all safe and they were keen to rebuild. So the hope of a fine handmade instrument was still alive.

Jason thought he would have a new shop by the fall. And he did. They received lots of love and money from all over the world.

He wired my money back to me and sent this note in late October:

hi jeff,
I sent your wire transfer yesterday. you should have it in a few days. sorry it took so long….
and  again sorry your banjo was lost in the fire. i’m sure you can imagine that i spent a fair amount of time thinking of things i could have done in hindsight….. like moving  all our pre-war guitars into the house or wishing i’d have really pushed the shipping date of all the completed banjos…. but  i had to let all that go in coming to terms with the fire.

I’m just so sorry for all the waste of such beautiful instruments and that one of them was meant for you.

j

He built a batch of banjos from wood salvaged from the fire and posted pictures of them in early 2017. In March, he sent this note:

We are up and running and the new shop is great! I am nearing the end of my "out of the ashes banjos" and will then start to work on the banjos lost in the fire. I can’t build all the same banjos in the same batch for several reasons but will build one of the 5 lost in the each batch to come until I finish them. 

 If you’re still interested in us building your banjo let me know and i can give you a rough timeline on when i’d build it, probably sometime this summer.

Of course I said YES, please. Then in early July he was ready again:

Happy to say that your banjo is coming up in my next build. I hope this works out for you? I’m so appreciative of your patience while we get up and running, and can’t wait to actually get a banjo in your hands sometime soon.

We’re on a major power outage due to wildfires right now, so I’m not starting on anything right away, but anticipate on starting around July 22 or so. When you have a minute, could you let me know your specifications - the same as last time, variations, or totally different? Anything is great….. And as with the last build, when we have everything in line we’ll do up a budget. The base price is the same as your last build…… Let us know if you have any questions.

And - if you’ve made other plans and are planning on passing on the build, no problem at all - just let us know. The other consideration is that we have our new custom flange out to a CNC brass machinist right now, but he is s-l-o-w and we’re anticipating getting the first run of custom flanges from him within hopefully 3 months. If you wanted to wait for those, let us know.

That’s about it for now. Hoping you’re well, and enjoying a great summer. Best -

jason & pharis

No to the custom flange. Let's get this thing built already! His guess of three months was accurate. As Labor day passed and September deepened, Jason sent a few photos of the new build.

Definitely a different goatskin. I think I like this one better!

Poor Pharis. She had to cut all that intricate stuff again.

Pharis sent a note about cutting that inlay again:

Thanks again Jeff. It was pretty fun to cut that inlay design again.

I told her I could just imagine all the "fun" she had.

Ha! I think I thrive on finding fun in unusual places. All good!

And then she sent a sound clip of Jason tryin' it out...

...and then a video clip:

Playing banjo 17413. Skin head on a Bella Rose tone ring and old growth submerged maple rim.

A post shared by J. Romero Banjo Co (@romerobanjos) on Sep 25, 2017 at 11:23am PDT

Then a few more shots on Instagram;

My neck in a vise!

The Michael Angelo of banjo creations!

The banjo was finally shipped off on Tuesday, September 26. Was held up in Kamloops BC for a couple of days for inspection and then finally....

My banjo was on a truck headed for Dixon....

Arrived! Safe & Sound. Beautiful in craftsmanship, aesthetics and tone. October 2, 2017. Every bit worth the wait. Now the real fun begins. Happy picking. Indeed.

The Golden Age of Aviation

So Google reminds us that today would have been Alexander Calder's 113th birthday. Which reminds me of the good old days of commercial aviation. Remember when they served meals on a plane? Remember when "stewardesses" were friendly? Remember when it was common to dress nicely for air travel? Remember when you could go to the gate to meet your visiting grandparents? 

As a youngster, I had the great fortune to spend days at airports around the country (and even one 3 day stint at Gatwick in London). My father worked for Texas International Airlines, which later purchased Continental. During the heyday of Texas International, based in Houston, we spent a lot of time flying around for free, and a whole lot more time sitting in airports waiting for seats to become available, as we were flying standby (as in free). 

My parents dreaded the long delays, but my sister and I had a blast roaming unfettered through the concourses and terminals collecting anything that had a logo on it, spotting exotic aircraft and marveling at the vast sea of costumes and funny accents.

I had a closet full of airline timetables, ticket folders and baggage claim checks. Plastic swizzle sticks, buttons and wings. When I left home, most all of that stuff got trashed. However, I managed to save a few of those things from the good old days. Including a lithograph signed by Alexander Calder in 1976 as Dallas-based Branniff Airlines was celebrating the bicentennial with the famous artists help. I got this from a friend whose mother was a travel agent. It'd be worth maybe $100 bucks today if it was in good condition, but it's stained and the corners are full of pin holes from various placements on walls.

Flying these days is not nearly as fun as it used to be. I don't know if it's because I'm a grumpy adult now, or if it's because the fun isn't free anymore…

Happy Birthday, Alex.

Update on 2011-08-05 16:52 by Tio Jeffé

Related - if you're into airports

Also Related - What happened to those airlines of yore? Very cool infographic.

Water Water Everywhere

Water, water everywhere

 Some be salty; some be fair.

 Some be oily, foul  and black

 Cries to us of what we lack.

We moved past the hour of Summer Solstice early Monday. One of the pagan holy days, the day when we move into the Cardinal Water sign Cancer, and the beginning of shorter days, this particular Solstice holds the prayers and intentions of millions for healing this splendid planet we share with so many beings. An especial focus is the water; all bodies swim through the miraculous elixir one way or another. 

Five years ago, I wrote an in-depth article about water for the website PlanetWaves.net and discovered information that made me repeatedly gasp. Remember a bit of the story that was happening then. Five days before the first day of 2005, the Asian Tsunami killed nearly 300,000 people. Horrendous water events continued through the year, with major floods devastating every continent and many islands. Britain was inundated with two C-3 events*, while China was overwhelmed with two C-3 and two C-2 floods. Fresh water was unavailable to 1.5 billion humans. 

Virtually every state in the United States wrestled with astonishing floods that year. A preposterous number, some ten trillion (give or take) gallons, of untreated storm waters entered US surface waters: reservoirs, lakes, ponds, streams, riparian areas, rivers. At that time, the Environmental Protection Agency believed as many as 850 million of those gallons were raw sewage. Ole Man Mississippi drains nearly 40% of the continental US; as much as 90% of all freshwater dumping into the Gulf of Mexico is from this huge river system. Runoff from the Mississippi was then so toxic that a “dead zone” existed far into the Gulf of Mexico.

Then came Katrina. 

Separated by a short eight months, the Asian Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina served as a sort of horrific bookends to 2005. These two catastrophes were the only two C-3 saltwater inundations during the twelve-month period and they account for nearly 98% of the destruction created by all C-3 floods that year.

Since 2005, weird flooding continues to confound us. What happened this year in Tennessee, Oklahoma, Arkansas, North Dakota is almost unbelievable and the onslaught continues. One of my most treasured places in the world, an island to which I believe I belong, sight unseen, is the Ile de Sein, a tiny scrap of rocks off the westernmost tip of Brittany. The islanders grapple with the reality that their home island may soon be lost in the continued rising of its nesting water, the Atlantic. In a few years, the place the Roman geographer Mela identified as the home of nine Sena priestesses in 47 AD may no longer exist. Gone.

Now the magnificent, the staggeringly beautiful, lush, bounteous, and utterly unique Gulf of Mexico swirls in the iridescent poison of crude oil. A plethora of news, public relations, and governmental sources estimate between 100,000 and 1,000,000 gallons of oil a day escape from British Petroleum's offshore well. And, still no real sign that the required expertise and technology to stop this ghastly pollution truly exists. 

All of this is essentially incomprehensible to us humans; the massive proportion of this reality chokes us. We're walking around in some sort of stupor, shutting down our brains and our emotions because of the overwhelming information. What the hell can we do about it? Take tiny steps in our own slice of the world.

A simple request: Join us in asking the Great Holiness, even if you prefer to call it Darwin or Reason, to spark the brilliance which will turn all of this toxic flow into something life-preserving for this splendid globe. And, take a moment to be grateful for the miraculous gift of fresh water. 

Water, water everywhere

Clearly tells us we must dare

Heal our Mother's holy sea.

As we will, so mote it be.

* Class Three (C-3) events, as designated by the Dartmouth Flood Observatory, are those which are extreme, with an estimated recurrence interval greater than 100 years; Class Two (C-2) are very large floods, with a recurrence likelihood of more than 20 years but less than 100 years.

One Very Cool Book Store

During a very cold February and March, in a dirty and very very cold north-facing garage, a small, well-insulated troupe of intrepid book slaves (as Adam deemed us) opened the garage door and rummaged through teetering stacks of boxes crammed with used books, ranging in condition from pitiful to well-loved. From the chaos came the Book Sale, Dixon’s improbably successful used book store, open every hour of every day. 

All those books belong to the Embudo Valley Library. Traditionally, when the apples were ripe, volunteers organized that massive accumulation of tomes and opuscles into the Book Sale, an orderly display on a multitude of tables, which earned the Library a meaningful pile of dollars during the Dixon Studio Tour. After each Tour weekend, the remainders were stuffed into every available cardboard box and shoved into the garage behind the Co-op. Each winter many of Dixon’s book lovers would take a moment to commiserate with Maile that some wonderful something wasn’t done with all those fine volumes. So Maile pondered and dreamt, accepted every plank and tilting bookcase, encouraged the community to wrestle this ponderous beast into submission, puzzled, and asked. Pluto aligned with Aquarius and the asking turned the key. 

Though still dusty, the Book Sale currently houses a gazillion volumes (an estimate which may be a tad inflated). The store is illuminated by donated lamps, arrayed with contributed rugs, and decorated with table and chairs (also gifts), making it a splendidly comfortable and invigorating place to visit (in very quick stops at noon during February and March). Categorized in a somewhat arbitrary manner and then alphabetized in a slightly haphazard way, forty-five sections of books await new homes. Kids, carpenters, and creatives can scratch that cogitation itch in one central location; it’s marvelously convenient. Plus, travelers can now swap maps thanks to the brilliant suggestion and prompt donation by Doug and Judy (people just love dreaming over those maps). Any book devotee or planning-stage traveler will find something to replace those she just donated, different but equally lovable, useful, and entertaining.

And, saving the best for the last, each sale contributes directly to the administrative costs of running our beloved Library. That means Maile and Einar can spend a bit more time on library stuff instead of grant stuff. They, she and he, make this all worth every sneeze and shiver. 

A Marvelously Quaint Spring

Instead of an even year, this is showing many characteristics of an odd one, right here in Dixon, let alone the rest of the world. Henry’s in short sleeves and a Hawaiian-style straw hat, without the orchids, alas, while I’m wrapped in wool and leather. Hummingbirds arrive ten days ahead of my schedule and stay. No scouting this year. Within seventy-two hours, five or six of the enslaving mites demand June’s ration of sugar water. I miss two beloveds’ birthdays and allow the cheat grass to mature because I’m lost in April.

What’s with this weather? Every day for the past week I dutifully hustled Loretta’s tomato queens to the portal for “hardening off”. Each day they  immediately languished into whining and shivering princesses. ‘It’s too cold. This wind is mussing my leaves. Ooh ooh, heat stroke!’ Yeah yeah yeah. In they come to clutter the window sill again. Then this morning blooms with true May loveliness and I’m cautiously lured outside by the siren call of the newly opened survivors. Yikes! Look at those mature forbs and grasses I need to stuff into black plastic. 

Nestled among the weeds, lies the beauty. Flax loved this past winter and gaily enhance the splendid blue floor show arrayed for my viewing pleasure, high dancers to the sedately huddled violets and proselytizing phlox. If I can teach my Manx kitty, Lince Felice, to hunt squirrel as well as she does gopher, I’ll have strawberries soon. I happily feed the two crows who help her manage pigeons.

A bank of glorious purple and white iris valiantly parade their wind-bruised petals to the three bird species that defy my brain’s classification system. Is it black-headed or black-hooded grosbeak and is that a female or a juvenile or a spotted towhee or a Bullock’s oriole or some delicate exotic blown off course by the conflagration in the Gulf? I sure do love those hot splashes of orange, whichever they may be. And my heart gladdens when I spy those tiny lazuli boys jumping into the fray for millet. 

Did you catch a glimpse of the ruby-crowned kinglet on the bird count trek this year? How about this splendiferous magpie? Our here-and-there bird braniac seeks information on a cause of this coloration and I gasp at the wondrous serendipity of a hot pink magpie visitor gracing my yard, I who burst with  happiness for the marvels of pink? I am so very lucky. 

Making Paper

Spring’s symphony lures me outside thirty times a day; sharp winds chilled by snow falling north of us chase me back inside. With the door open until the radiant heat kicks on, I witness preposterous pre-Beltane hummingbird operas. Breathy whuff whuff whuffs alert me that ravens eyeball the spilled seed from a chickadee/finch feeders and I dash to glimpse those ebon beauties. Busybody magpies audaciously trumpet imagined rudeness, repeatedly. I sit to tear Scott’s luxurious paper strips into much smaller scraps and watch spring arrive in its coltish exuberance.  

As I rearrange the shape of cotton fiber from one form of paper into the foundation of another, a call and response song swirls between my corseted, bundled-up winter self and my gamboling fritillary spring self. This whole-body unbinding invigorates me. How happy I am to check which plants need to be moved, where the weeds are already out-of-control, which birds now nest in the mulberry, how many gophers took up resident. The pile of paper awaiting tearing shrinks and the joyous duties outside increase. I catch a moment of nuthatch dance; then there’s the extravagant spilled-paint canvas of cheat grass green. My senses actually awaken. I hear, see, think, feel, and smell more vividly.

I’ve already worn my yellow mustache from dandelion tonics, seared my forehead, strained a cranky spine, walked into forgotten prickly pear, and lamented one more year with only one or two potential apricots. Loretta’s tomato giantesses lustily solicit me to dally with them outside, NOW! Cats relearn push/pull door-operating techniques and the consequences of perching on the convenient but verboten bird-catching rock. Although I’ve never seen a seed pod, the violets that Yoga Mark gave me way back when dispersed and now their tiny, lovely faces lure me low all over my yard. My body limbers in preparation for summer’s relentless demands.

It’s all intertwined. I ease into the work of summer by preparing to make paper which will appear as art about the same time I lug in my last harvest. What a treasure a gift a remarkable happenstance for me to witness one more spring in this body, in this house, in this community.