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I've been doing a restoration diary on each machine that I restore as part of its history. While corresponding recently with Matt on his VVXVIII case restoration, I happened to think that some of my experiences with my C-19 might be applicable to his project as well as others. It is a diary of a long restoration (and also a big chunk of my life). It was also a real learning experience for me. It's old news, but maybe it can point the way for others...

EDISON C-19 RESTORATION PROJECT DIARY


It all started when my Dad had a heart-attack at the end of September in 2003. My eldest brother, the cash-register collector, came down from Lakeport, California to visit with Dad in the Hospital. (I lived near to Dad in Covina, California.) At dinner one night, my brother mentioned that he'd seen a derelict Edison disc machine in a little antique store in the Ukiah area for $50. Now, I've always wanted an Edison Diamond Disc machine, so I found myself saying "If you go by there again and it's still available; get it for me." Now, to his credit, he tried to describe all of its faults. Most of the damage was peeling veneer from damp storage, apparently. In my mind's eye I pictured re-gluing the wood in one day, stripping the cabinet the next day and finishing on day number three.

Anyone familiar with the vagaries of old phonographs, raising a family and Murphy's Law will guess that things happened in a very different time frame than I had pictured.

One day in April 2004, the Edison Disc machine mysteriously appeared in my driveway. I got lucky and my brother's cash-register collecting friend drove it down to me on his way home. (A 10-hour trip on Interstate 5.) Up to this point I had no idea what model it would be. I hoped it might be a C-150 Sheraton at least, but really wanted a C-250 Chippendale. It was almost as good; it ended up being a C-19 Chippendale. It was rough, however. Very rough. It was somewhere on the border between "parts machine" and "kindling". Anyway, there it stood in my driveway in all of its rotting wonder.
The cabinet had several issues. It had been stored in damp conditions. Veneer was peeling on all sides. Chips of it were missing altogether. Since floor models are nothing more than plant holders, the top had the typical peeling veneer and stains. The machine looked as if it had been transported upright in the back of a pick-up truck with the lid facing the wrong way. The back panel that the hinge screwed into had been broken off and poorly repaired with nails.

The frieze was delaminating with several pieces missing. The casters were rusty and mashed from the cabinet being dropped. The bottom of the cabinet was a mass of warped, delaminated boards. The joints were coming apart and the entire machine had racked slightly to one side. The front bottom brace had been nailed with large round-headed brads. About two inches of the back left foot was missing due to rot. Oh, and it stunk. Not just slightly musty old phonograph smell, but real strong Phono-Stink.

It was missing the grille, both lock escutcheons, cabinet knob, cabinet door stay, laboratory model medallion, three out of four upper corner decorations, all but two of the record dividers and both numbered wooden record ID strips.

Perhaps I should have run away. If I had been looking at it in an antique shop, I might have passed it by - fast. But there it was. In my driveway. All 150-plus pounds of it. (Actually I don't know what it weighs, but it's real heavy.) The die was cast. And anyway, it needed me. If it were going to be anything but scrap or junk it would be me that would pull it through. Besides, I always wanted a Chippendale Edison - right?.


Round One.


After pulling off all of the hardware, the first order of business was to stabilize, realign and glue the cabinet. The bottom was warped beyond repair. A trip over to Arroyo Hardwoods in Pasadena corrected that in the form of a new Mahogany plywood bottom. While I was there, I bought a sheet of Mahogany veneer for the Dutchman patches to replace the missing bits. It had a paper backing that made it too thick, so I was obliged to soak off the backing before use.

I was lucky that my father-in-law had given me a set of clamps. I carefully removed the brads and nails, and then glued and clamped the framework. I'll admit to using a few countersunk finishing nails for a little insurance. The damage to the hinge area required polyurethane glue to span the splintered gaps with screws for strength. Once the frame was stable, it was time to re-create the rotted foot. I used a wood consolidant and WoodEpox to resculpt the foot. It's great stuff as it accepts stain and is very strong when cured.
Through the summer of 2004 I searched out the needed parts. Particularly critical were the wood cabinet parts, which needed to be stained and finished with everything else. Initially, I had planned to cut out my own grille in Mahogany Plywood. John Nangy at Phonographs.org was kind enough to give me a tracing of the grille as well as the needed corner trim. After about two numbing hours messing with plywood and a jigsaw, I changed my mind about making my own grille.

After some phone calls and too much money changing hands, I became the owner of a hand-made repro grille. Upon closer inspection, I realized that it was still too roughly executed to be convincing on the finished machine. Finally, I did what I should have and got a salvaged original off of ebay. I also found Carsten Fischer on ebay selling record dividers. He managed to get me the balance of the missing pieces with some to spare. I started in on stabilizing the veneer and patching in the new pieces. Then stuff happened.


Round Two.

I didn't come back to the project until the Summer of 2005. Much life happened in the interval. Lots of family mortality (my Mom, one of my Brothers, etc.) and other changes. I needed a break, so I took some "selfish time" and tackled the C-19 again. The first order of business was to finish the last of the veneer patches. Although Carsten had sent me an entire top section including the frieze, I really wanted to retain as much of the original piece as possible. Operating under that mad train of thought, I cut out replacement sections of veneer by using onionskin paper "rubbings" (taken from good parts of the frieze). I tried using a utility knife, then I switched to an exacto knife, but then I finally went back to my favorite standby: plain old single-edged razor blades. They're the best tool ever. I buy them by the 100.

Much of the veneer work was glued-up with liquid hide glue. I used wax paper as a release paper so the clamping blocks wouldn't stick. Little by little, the cabinet became complete. As the Summer drew to a close, it became obvious that my media business was in serious trouble. I was on the wrong side of a shift in technology. I ended up closing up my office at the end of 2005 and freelancing at another facility for a lot less money. (Ouch.) Needless to say, the C-19 had to wait.


Round Three.

As things began to warm up in the Summer of 2006, I felt it was time to get back to work on the C-19. (It was taking up quite a bit of real estate in my garage in its disassembled state.) It was time to address the finish. The outside finish was badly checked and blackened. If the veneer had been OK, then I would have taken a shot at cleaning and re-amalgamating the finish. Unfortunately, to hide the veneer patches, the outside would have to be stripped down to the wood and re-stained.

The inside finish was not quite as bad, but that wasn't saying very much. It was still quite dirty and checked. The damage to the hinge area in the back of the machine required a fair amount of filler to replace missing wood. So that part had to be stripped and re-stained as well. I bought an Edison reproduction decal for the inside of the lid just in case I couldn't save the original. I got lucky in that with careful cleaning, sanding and application of alcohol, I was able to save the inside of the lid and all of the other inside surfaces. The finish turned out to be a beautiful red mahogany. That was the finish I had to match. I had been reading discussions online about using Mohawk's aniline dye stains, so I decided to give their red mahogany stain a try.

I used a 50/50 mix of lacquer thinner and alcohol for a stripper and many pads of steel wool. One of the trying aspects of stripping is that sometimes things become unglued. I had a little re-gluing on some of the veneer patches. Finally, all was anchored down and sanded using 220 grit sandpaper. Next came the staining.

Aniline Powder Stain can be used as either an alcohol based stain or as a water based stain. Mohawk sells something called "Aniline Reducer" for initial dissolving of the powder, but I suspect that Denatured Alcohol could be used just as well. The directions called for one to five ounces per gallon of solvent (or in my case warm water). I used one ounce (2 tablespoons) to make an initial ½ gallon. (One side note; the stain needs to be strained through a coffee filter or a big wad of cheese cloth to get out undissolved powder crystals.) On a trial piece of wood, that dilution was way too dark. I then added water to make it a whole gallon. While still dark, that seemed to be about right. Aniline dye works very fast. In order not to have nasty overlap marks, I had to work very quickly before things dried. (Big panels are real difficult with a small brush.)
The other problem is that as it dries, it changes color. So one has to remember what it looked like while still wet. The red mahogany also showed it blueish component when it dried. I wiped-off the excess after leaving on for a minute or two. I used it as a water stain so that the stain wouldn't move around as I painted on the acohol-based shellac. In practical application, the stain did tend to move anyway as I applied the first couple of coats. The other thing about using a water based stain is that it tends to raise the grain of the wood, resulting in having to sand more. The more sanding resulted in more opportunities of "breaking-through" the color stain. This had to be touched up using some stain mixed in with white shellac on the bigger areas down to using a Sharpie marker on the smaller areas.

I wanted to use traditional shellac to finish, so I got some Zinnser amber shellac. That wasn't necessarily a mistake, but putting on a thick initial coat was. I found that I had gone well past the point of using grain filler. If I wanted it smooth, all of the grain would have to be filled with the finish. That meant that I was in for way more coats of finish and a lot more sanding. The other problem was that I was doing thicker coats with a brush, rather than thinned shellac applied with a pad. This meant that I had a very much longer drying time. The finish had to be a certain hardness before I could sand it. The way I was working, that meant stopping work for 1 or 2 weeks every so often so that the shellac could cure. BUT, one great attribute of shellac is its ability to seal-out nasty smells. By coating all surfaces, I was finally able to stop the Phono-Stink!

To Be Continued...

Round Four.

Actually, round 3 kind of slowly rolled into round 4. When the weather turned colder and wet, I shifted my focus from the cabinet to other C-19 matters. When he sent me the record storage dividers, Carsten recommended that I tape down the curling edges of the dry leatherette so that they wouldn't damage paper label Diamond Discs. I was cocky and assured him I had a plan. No tape for me: Nuh-uh. I would use archival glue and my secret weapon: my wife's book press. (You know: that thing that Uncle Fester uses to cure headaches.)

Using wax paper as a release and two boards I tested my theory and was very satisfied with the result. Each re-gluing took about 4 or 5 hours to dry. I soon realized that I would have to go on a schedule if I wanted to complete the job of re-doing all 72 dividers in a reasonable time. So, workdays yielded 4 dividers a day and weekends maybe 12 or more. My advice to someone now would be to find good tape and take Carsten's advice.

The casters look like they had been in water a long time and were mashed-in. My guess is that the machine had been dropped on them from a little height. I took a couple of afternoons to de-rust and hammer them back to approximate shape.
Other rainy day projects centered around disassembling and cleaning the motor. The Diamond Disc motor was a new experience for me. It had a higher degree of complication for one. In some ways it was more elegant, in other ways not. I held off pulling out the main springs until it was warmer and dry enough to spread out into the driveway. A phone call was to put that day off several months.


Round Five.

I found myself taking charge of a very elderly cousin of mine who had no other family and deepening dementia. (If you have been in that situation, you have my sincerest sympathy.) It wasn't until the beginning of 2008 when I was able to come back to the C-19. The first order of business was to pull out the mainsprings to clean and re-grease.

While the springs were unbroken, they were caked in hardened, nasty, and slightly rusty old grease. Out they came for their bath in Lacquer Thinner with a vigorus polish up with 0000 steel wool, followed by another dip and wipe-down. Back they went greasing with black moly grease very slightly thinned with gear oil. I must say that these were the strongest springs I have ever worked with. It required considerable effort and a couple of rest breaks with me leaning on the half-wound barrels with all of my weight. My advice is to do this on a day when you are well rested with people nearby to help you if needed.

After the springs were back together, it was time to pay attention to the reproducer. Upon close inspection, it was pretty clear that the diamond stylus was chipped. A call to George Vollema yielded a new stylus & diaphragm and some gaskets. As I was about to tackle the rebuild, I noticed that I wasn't getting freelance jobs anymore. The Writers strike was on and people in Television Post Production (including me) were just sitting around. Months dragged on. I started looking outside of my field for work. Anything. My Dad died in August, the economy tanked very soon thereafter. I'm sure you have your own stories.


Round Six.


With the prospect of possibly having to sell-off everything (no unemployment insurance), I tackled the remaining tasks of finishing the C-19. Since I was broke, instead of re-plating the reproducer body and turntable in gold, I opted to try for a respectable clean-up. The reproducer body looked much better after stripping off the dirty old lacquer in a bath of lacquer thinner, followed by a new coat of lacquer. The turntable wasn't as easy. It was very rusty. Since only the edge really showed, I finally decided to go ahead and use gold paint. (Hangs head in shame.) The original felt was present (albeit dirty with moth holes). I tried a technique that I came up with for another restoration to preserve and patch the original felt. This is discussed in another thread:

http://forum.talkingmachine.info/viewto ... 162#p17162

Anyway, with some final adjusting, polishing and waxing the machine was finished in December 2008.
I'm pretty happy with it. If I had to change anything, it might be the darkness of the stain. Today I'd probably have used a stain diluted by half again. It would be an alcohol base instead of water, and I'd have built up the color in a couple of passes, perhaps even making the first coat of shellac, a stain and shellac mix. I'd have used thinner coats and used black grain filler. I've done that on subsequent machines and had great results.

It is now 2013. I'm well and happy. (I wasn't really unhappy before, but things did get a might depressing at times.) I finally got going in a new career in 2011. We've muddled through and I still have the C-19.

Was the restoration worth it? I suppose it depends on what you want out of a machine. From a strict financial point of view, the answer is "no" - very "no". Today, a C-19 in decent original shape can be had in the neighborhood of $350 to $450 - quite a bit below what I have in my project machine. From an enjoyment standpoint, the answer is "yes". I play it often. It sounds good. From a learning aspect, I'd say very, very "yes". I couldn't imagine a better education in restoration. And working on a machine is way cheaper than psychiatric counselling.

David Teti told me that Edison's mahogany cabinets were dyed yellow before the mahogany stain was applied.

Very nice restoration and a fascinating read. Thanks!

That was an amazing story of determination and perseverance. My hat's off to you. Jerry Blais

Regardless of a machine's rarity, it's the ones like this that you really appreciate. The ones you've invested a piece of yourself in. Congratulations!

George P.

Thanks for posting this excellent, detailed restoration diary. I have a lowboy Chippendale that is half-torn apart (was in a flood) in my garage as a 'sometime' project. Your story is an inspiration to take it on again.

It looks great! I always have a place in my heart for people who turn basket cases into things of beauty. I always had to do the same, all my machines were derelect too.

Martin, I'm refinishing a C250 (brown mahogany) that's been on the back burner for years. The veneer delams and trashed shellac are peanuts compared to your project! Enjoyed your diary. Downright motivational.

Thank you, everybody for your kind responses. The real benefit about doing this to a common machine in this condition is that one doesn't worry too much if it gets screwed-up.

-Martin

Here are a few pictures that I had given up hope finding. Murphy's Law dictates that I find them now.

Here are some "Before shots":

While fixing the peeling veneer and frame, I had the cabinet upside-down. Detail of rotten foot. Detail of rough sculpting of foot. Before shot of bad bottom. Glueing new bottom. I'm including them now to be complete. Thanks again!

- Martin