Double Bass Terrifying moments in working?

[Henri Gross]

I'm currently an apprentice of a fairly well-known bass maker, and the other day he asked me to put a new string on a bass that came into the shop. This bass was the 1620 Maggini, and honestly, it was the most terrifying moment that I've ever had. It got me thinking, what other scary stories do you have of personal terror in shops? For this thread, let's keep it instrument-related, and not about bad customer experiences.

I'll start:
Other than the Maggini, I had to number label some key-levers on a Harpsichord that was going out to a very important customer. All I had to do was write numbers on the wood, but I was still absolutely terrified. I'm pretty sure it was because of the pressure of the job, just because it was so important, but it's still really weird to me that it was scary.

 

[GretschWretch]

Not terror in the shop, but terror on the job. In the mid-nineties I had a restaurant gig with a guy playing a nine-foot grand piano and a robo-drummer. I and my DB stood in the curve of the grand. The piano player had a heavy touch (think Jerry Lee), and every forty-five days or so he would break a string -- and almost always it was a heavy bass string. One of those snapping behind you is a sound you never forget.

 

[Don Hergert]

I've fallen off a stage in a barn gig about 15 years ago, and I don't drink so I couldn't blame it on that. I was sitting on a crowded stage playing a squareneck Dobro, and one of the legs of the chair fell off the stage, I fell backwards and hit soft dirt while still basically in the chair, holding the Dobro high in the air so it wouldn't hit the ground. I survived, nothing broken but a little sore, embarrassed but not enough to stop playing. I watch my chair legs pretty carefully on stage now.

I have worked in luthier shops where other instruments were built or repaired, fortunately no serious accidents but lots of potential with heavy tools like lathes, planers and joiners. One of the shops built banjos, and as a quality test the shop owner would randomly grab a banjo rim and cast it high into the air about 30 feet to see if the glue joints were holding. They'd crash to the ground with a thud and bounce three or four times. Then we'd examine them. Usually they broke at the wood, not the glue joints.

 

[robobass]

When I played for the "Bronx Opera" there was no room for me in the pit, so I had to be extreme stage right. All alone. When the first performance would begin I would feel like this. It really taught me some skills though!

 

[Jake deVilliers]

I'm currently an apprentice of a fairly well-known bass maker, and the other day he asked me to put a new string on a bass that came into the shop. This bass was the 1620 Maggini, and honestly, it was the most terrifying moment that I've ever had. It got me thinking, what other scary stories do you have of personal terror in shops? For this thread, let's keep it instrument-related, and not about bad customer experiences.

I'll start:
Other than the Maggini, I had to number label some key-levers on a Harpsichord that was going out to a very important customer. All I had to do was write numbers on the wood, but I was still absolutely terrified. I'm pretty sure it was because of the pressure of the job, just because it was so important, but it's still really weird to me that it was scary.

That attitude gives me hope that you will be a very good luthier! The kids that don't appreciate the importance of their work will never go any where.

 

[james condino]

When I was a high school kid working in the local music shop, we had a standing policy: anybody who finds a reasonable looking garage sale instrument for $25 or less, buy it and the shop would refund you. They'd put it in the backroom and wait. When a customer came by to pick up a repair, if there was anything in the garage sale pile that looked close from a distance, we had a special cue. They'd call me over the intercom to bring the instrument to the showroom counter (usually some kind of guitar). Someone else would ring the telephone just as I was coming in the room. I'd yell out, "I've got it!!!!!" and run towards the phone, guitar in one hand. Strategically timed within vision of the customer, I'd take a huge false trip and land on the guitar, smashing it all to pieces while the customer would see it all and flip out. We had to be careful because some folks would lose their $%!& and not be able to calm down when they realized we were all on the floor laughing so hard and they had been pranked...

 

[robobass]

I don't think anyone's going to top you James!

 

[RCWilliams]

while its no exploding guitar, several years ago an older gentleman came into the shop and was going to pick up his violin after some repairs. I wasn't there at the time, so this is a bit second hand. The customer was a cantankerous sort, at any rate, one of the guys from the shop went out to assist him, as I understand it the man said something like "so I suppose you want all my money", reaching inside his jacket to get his check book. The young man assisting him (who was known to occasionally get lost in the clouds), misunderstood what was said apparently as he immediately set off the panic alert on the security system ran into the work area and evacuated the shop. The police showed up to find a very confused old man standing at the retail counter, somewhat annoyed.

It was an unusual day.

 

[bolophonic]

I was working at a mailbox/shipping store in Chicago about 30 years ago and one day a giant mafia goon came in looking for the boss. I paged the guy and he called me back while the bad dude was standing next to me and the boss told me to tell the guy to kiss his grits and hung up.

So the dude starts talking like, maybe he’s going to turn the boss’ problem into my problem to help drive the point home for everybody to understand the situation more clearly. So I dialed 911 and put them on speaker phone and the dude left. When the cops arrived, they simply told me to tell the boss to pay what he owed, which of course I had done when we were on the phone.

 

[David Potts]

I worked for many years with Neil Brawley (Curtis Graduate circa 1974, pupil of Roger Scott). He told me that he also used to work for a luthier in Philly whose shop was upstairs. For a lark they stripped a derelict old ply bass and, given the right moment, launched it out the shop window onto the sidewalk below much to the shock/horror of the passers-by.