At the end of the long gravel driveway, in a building adjacent to the farmhouse, the tails of horses no longer attached to their owners twitch next to the skeletons of violins. On a shelf across from the tails rests a book titled "How to Rehair a Bow," the masters thesis of Harold Evans, southern Indiana's sole violin maker.\nEvans Violins, 77 N. Sewell Rd. -- the store run by Evans and his son Michael -- fulfills the needs of a large niche of the Bloomington music community. But in telling the story of Evans Violins, it's impossible to separate the shop from the story of the musical family that runs it.\nThe smell of sawdust hanging in the air of the shop is nothing new to Harold Evans, who spent his childhood watching the workers in his father's shop build cabinets, doors and windows.\n"I was always fascinated by woodworking," he said. "It's amazing what you can learn when you're a little kid."\nEvans, 54, started playing the violin when he was 10 years old in his Minnesota public school. But as his skill improved, he outgrew his violin.\n"There are only certain levels you can go to with your own technique if the tools aren't supporting you," he said.\nEvans decided the best way for him to get the quality instrument he wanted was to build his own, since very good violins are also very expensive.\n"I was a bit naïve," he said laughing, "but it had always been one of my dreams."\nOpus 1, Evans' first violin, took him three years to create while he was an apprentice under a master violin maker — but learning the craft was only half the battle. Evans had to amass the necessary tools and pick out the perfect wood for his dream instrument. \nScattered around the shop are Evans' tools, which look like they might have come from a Dr. Seuss illustration. His favorite part of the process of creating a violin is "bending the ribs" -- wrapping a wet piece of wood around a metal oval.\nThe European wood Evans selected for Opus 1 made his fantasy of a dream violin into a reality. He played on that instrument professionally for more than 30 years. In fact, he played it so much the varnish has worn off of certain spots.\nMichael, 23, chimes in: "Each piece of wood is different, like snowflakes. You can have two violins made using the same techniques, even wood from the same part of the tree, and have two violins that sound different."\nBoth father and son said the wood has a huge impact on the sound and tone of the instrument. \n"You're always looking for that better sound," Harold Evans said. "Everybody's striving for that sweet sound."\nMichael said the more you play an instrument, the more fine-tuned your ear becomes to different qualities of tone. To demonstrate, Michael played Opus 1 and then plays the same music on Opus 2, the second violin Evans made. The difference is so slight that it's almost unintelligible to the untrained ear.\n"It is subtle, but the violinist can hear it," Michael said. "Each violin has its own personality, like each person has its own personality."\nViolinists may be able to tell the difference between the tones of two violins but can't quite put that difference into words. The Evanses throw out words they commonly use to describe tone: Bright. Mellow. Sweet.\n"How do you describe something that's subjective?" Michael asks rhetorically.
The family orchestra\nEvans decided to open his own violin shop after playing professionally in the U.S. Army Chamber Orchestra in Fort Meyers, Va., for three presidential administrations -- Nixon through Carter -- and playing in the orchestras for musicals. He knew it was time to leave when the musicals became more rock oriented, a transition of which he wasn't fond.\n"I didn't want to lose that feeling of loving to play," Evans said.\nThe shop and the family prospered in Virginia. Evans also started an orchestra in which the family played, with Michael on violin and his 16-year-old daughter, Jewel, playing cello.\nThen, things began to change. Michael moved to Bloomington to study violin at IU, and Jewel outgrew her music teachers and was in need of new instructors.\n"That's when I had a brilliant idea," said ElizaBeth, Evans' wife and another violist. "We had two houses, a business and an orchestra, but we should move to Bloomington!"\nMichael sighs. "I told my friends my family followed me to school."\nBut when the family moved, business followed Evans to Bloomington as well, as Evans said some of his customers from the East Coast couldn't stand the thought of someone else rehairing their bows.\nWord of Evans Violins spread until Evans had a steady stream of customers wanting instruments made and repaired. It quickly became apparent that the low-key farm life Evans anticipated was not going to happen as swiftly as he had hoped.\n"I wanted to mow grass and retire," Evans said. "But I was almost forced to build instruments."\nWhen Michael graduated from IU last spring, he joined his father at the shop because he wasn't interested in a symphony job.\nEvans thinks for a moment. "Maybe my kids will be partners someday."\nMichael snorts and looks skeptical. "Maybe."\n"I'm very proud my son wants to be in business with me," Evans said. "It's nice to know the shop won't disappear if I dropped it."\nNow that the shop has two workers, Evans said Michael is boss, a role to which his son is slowly adjusting.\n"I'm still getting used to that," Michael said. "To me, he's still the conductor."\nBut whoever waves the baton, business is booming. Evans estimates he's made over 100 violins at $15,000 to $25,000 apiece, depending on the model. Plus, there is a steady stream of instruments in need of repair.\nEvans said it takes about 150 hours to get a violin to the "white stage," which means pre-varnish. Varnishing can take many months depending on how dark they want the instrument to be. The darker the customer wants it, the longer it will take, since each layer has to dry and be rubbed down.\n"When you're a repair man," Evans said, "people want their instruments repaired yesterday."
Pitched to perfection\nEvans, or a member of his family, depending on the instrument in question, plays every instrument before returning it to its owner, a practice he said is unusual among those who repair. Evans said while it's not necessary to play before giving an instrument back, it helps to check the instrument's ease of playability.\n"Is that how you would describe it," Evans asks Michael, "ease of playability?"\n"Yeah," Michael said. "Although it also has a lot to do with how well it's adjusted."\n"True," Evans said. "And that's what we do, is help make violins easier to play."\nWith Michael now in charge of the shop, Evans has time to concentrate on his tractor and split wood. Eventually, he would like to see his family play together more often and would like to start an orchestra in Bloomington similar to the one he ran in Virginia. But Evans needs a manager to help him.\n"I'm really trying to find a kindred spirit," he said. "Someone who loves the music I enjoy playing. I need a general manager who loves Handel and Bach. More than anything, I'd like to resurrect my orchestra."\nBut whether or not the family orchestra ever makes an encore performance, the family business will continue to thrive.\n"Some may call it a dying art," Evans said of his craft, "but I don't think so."\n-- Contact staff writer Kathleen Quilligan at kquillig@indiana.edu.
