He tightly clutches paper in his grasp,
a claw, arthritic, taut. Exotic
woods
are window-lit in gold, sienna, pitch.
For days on days he sits and
sands, shapes, shines
so slow and careful; then with glint in eye
he turns
to show the delicate, distant
and silent fire of closely crafted work.
The
clutter - tools, wood-shavings, chests - submerges
the floor in flesh-warm
fuzz. The room slides on
the back's and sides' deep polished glow as
he
spins it slowly in his hands, split-nailed
and hardened, tithe for
fifty years. "G'night,"
he grumbles, gruffly turns away to leave,
to close
up shop for dinner, Tuesday night.
John W. Ward, Jr., 1973
Used by permission
NOTE: As I read this I can see my Dad so clearly
there in his
shop working on those instruments.
This describes him so well.
In a letter from Mr. Ward, dated 8/27/96, these comforting words were written to Mother - - "As the word of Seth's passing makes its way through his - and our - musical-family, a number of these musical-family members are sharing their recollections of Seth and his legacy. As always, the most eloquent among these is Dan Rissel, the big bearded twelve string player from Maine who Seth referred to as "the Mountain Man," perhaps in part due to his hermit-like existence and perhaps in part to his considerable physical stature. Dan's letters are always a pleasure to receive and are as much a literary and spiritual experience as they are communicative of news. Dan concludes his most recent letter with comments on Seth. Please feel free to share this with other members of the family."Mr. Rissel's comments: "And finally, this morning from JChard the news of the passing of Seth Summerfield. In truth, I had inferred the details of his condition such that I ceased some time ago to think of him as being here among us, that he had some while ago passed on into legend. What I have to say about him is short, unequivocal, and I need only say it to you: For a long time I had a hard time accepting the phrase "good, Christian man" in anything but an ironic way. I had seen too many people with God on their lips who were out for themselves, and being overtly religious seemed to me to be almost hypocritical by definition. Seth was a whole other ball of wax. His God was on his lips and in his fingers and in his heart. The beautiful things he made, the wonderful things he said, a life dedicated to music, and craftsmanship and honest work in the eyes of the Lord. His song is sung in every note of the instruments he made and all the joy of everyone who ever hears them. It is impossible for me to imagine a more profound or fulfilling legacy; for those of us who knew him, he becomes a hero in the old sense of the word - - now he belongs to the ages."
Dan Rissel
In November 1999 I received these kind words from Mr. Dan Rissel: "Dear Ms. McCracken, My old friend John Ward has forwarded to me a letter in which you ask permission to use a few lines I wrote on the occasion of the passing of your father. You may certainly do what you will with them, with my blessing and my thanks. About 1974, I was just out of college, and had only been playing the guitar for a couple of years, and I was very much influenced by the music of Gordon Lightfoot, particularly his 12-string guitar. John had shown me his Summerfield guitar earlier in the year when I was visiting my brother at Princeton, and I was so taken with it I asked John to inquire if your father would consider making me a twelve-string. Through John, Seth expressed some interest in the project, he had never made one, but thought it would be something he'd like to do. The wheels were set in motion, I sent down a deposit of a hundred dollars, John picked out the woods, and I never thought anymore about it. A few months later, I was informed that the body was all built, and it was time to start talking about particulars. I drove down from Maine to Hampton, and it was then I met your father for the first time. We designed a guitar of singular beauty, a vine of life on the neck, mother-of-pearl everywhere, my initials in pearl at the bottom of the heel. But more importantly, I established a friendship with your father that lasted a good many years. I was a commercial fisherman, and he was as interested in that as I was in his experiences in the mines. We both loved the outdoors and music, and when I travelled a good deal more than I do now, I was never in Tidewater but that I would park in the back, walk by the arbor, and spend the afternoon with him in his shop. Despite almost forty years difference in our ages, I considered him a good friend, and one of the great people I have ever met. The twelve-string guitar remains the most beautiful instrument of its kind that I or anyone I've ever shown it to has ever seen. Because of its fragility, and my rough-and-tumble lifestyle, with woodstoves and such, I leave it for safekeeping with John in Hampton, where it is part of his collection of spectacular musical instruments, along with a Summerfield six-string and banjo. John's a great musician and plays the guitar on stage which I regard as a great gift in that many more people can see and appreciate what I consider to be a miracle of hand-craftsmanship, and without even knowing it, bask a little bit in the glow of your father's light; I know it still shines for me. If there's anything else I can do, please feel free to contact me at any time, I do have a few pictures and things, but I daresay you have plenty of those already. Until then, I remain Yrs in Peace,
Dan Rissel"
On May 26, 2002 I received the following kind words from Mr. Robert Phelps:"Since I don't know exactly who will receive this, here goes!
I spent many months trying to cajole Seth into helping me build the guitar that I had made in my mind. I met a young man while standing in line for rolling Stones tickets. We talked about guitars and which ones we would own if money were not a concern. At the end of our meeting I had a new motivation to have another try at Seth. Finally he relented. I was working in the shipyard during my off time from school. He invited me to come over and we talked about the project. On many occasions "momma", Mrs. Summerfield would bring us something to drink or eat or call on the intercom that made me feel a small part of the family.
During the time we were working on the body of the guitar some six weeks into the process there was a flood and we found that once removed from the jig, it cracked. That was # SMS 39 dated Oct.71 and signed "Hand made by Seth Summerfield Oct. 1971". Once that had happened Seth abandoned # 39 (I still have the unfinished body as a decoration in my home) and #40 was not started, My guitar became #41 which I proudly play and enjoy on a regular basis. My High School friend John ward having seen my instrument decided to have Seth make one for him. Sam Fairchild also ordered one as a result of my fabulous instrument. Bill Gurly was also a neighbor, had a Banjo made.
I kept up with Seth and made many visits to the "Shop" and used to park my Yellow Jaguar E-type behind the Church as to avoid that driveway. Many a tour bus like Bill Monroe's stopped by and music played late into the night.
I moved to Florida to follow my flying career in 1995 and didn't see Seth after. I will always enjoy the memories of our time together fondly. He was a truly wise and generous man with his time and advice. I had my father ( Judge W. Robert Phelps, Jr.) assist him with his black lung troubles, although he failed to meet the disability tests.
Please remember me to "Momma" and see if she recalls that jag convertible. If a list or registry of Summerfield instruments exists I would like a copy to get the clan together.
With warmest regards,
Robert Phelps
SMS # 41, 6 string flat Top Guitar
Please share with family who might be interested."
On July 28, 2002 I received these kind words from Mrs. Louise McPeeters:"I just found your homepage dedicated to Seth Summerfield. I love my guitar made for me by your father and it has brought music to thousands of children in the years of my teaching. I dearly remember the time spent in his studio as he let me pick out the rosette and wood for my guitar. I had just had my guitar stolen in Norfolk when I was tutoring at a local school and as fate would have it I found your father. What an artist he was. It was his 36th guitar.
Thank You,
Louise Longley McPeeters"
On January 15, 2004 I received the following kind words from Mr. Sam Fairchild:
"I knew your father well. I was unaware of his passing -- I had been out of touch with the Peninsula for nearly 20 years. I was saddened to find out over the internet.
I was always struck by his remarkable ability to teach me with few words. We met when I was in my early twenties. I was looking for a firm piece of ground onto which to plant my feet, and he shepherded me to that ground. In retrospect, I find his many lessons enduring and meaningful. For that I will always be grateful.
I am also grateful for the two guitars that your father built for me. The first, Number 50, was built in 1976. I ordered the instrument from Seth, and carefully made a whole series of progress payments. Little did I realize that he was also teaching me how to manage my money. I spent many hours in the workshop, watching his careful, studied work as he luthered the instrument. It was magical. In many ways, your father's motions reminded me of a ballet of movements. We would chat away as he worked, me doing most of the talking, him doing much of the listening. I found him to be a remarkable listener. The physical results: an extraordinary six string which over time has mellowed in tone and darkened sweetly. The non-physical results - a cross-generational friendship that bolstered my self image, my self worth, and my value framework. You see, I was a stutterer at the time, and your father was one of the first persons to accept me fully in spite of that impediment. When I played the guitar and sang, my speech was as smooth and umblemished as one can imagine. He called Number 50 "my voice." And so it became so. I cherish that guitar, and play it often. I cherish even more his influence, and remember it often.
Even more remarkable an instrument, though, was Number 51. I ordered this guitar from your father in 1977. I asked for a plain and simple one since I could afford nothing more at the time. He smiled and said OK, and proceeded to build it. I would stop by sometimes to visit, and he would chuckle and tell me that progress was slow, but he was getting there. It was strange, but he would never let me see that particular work in progress.
In the time period between Number 50 and Number 51, I had taken intense speech therapy lessons, and my ability to communicate had improved markedly. He was quite excited by that change, and was uncharacteristically animated in talking about it. I felt quite proud of my achievement, and even better that Seth was so excited by it.
Finally, Seth called one day and said the guitar was ready. I ran down to the bank to pull out the final payment and drove down to Hampton from my home in Newport News. He ushered me in, sat me down, and told me to close my eyes. When I opened them, I was staring at the most beautiful guitar I had ever seen. The head, fretboard and back sported some of the most beautiful mother of pearl inlay I had ever seen. It was clear that he had made this one as a labor of love, and I was then, and remain, deeply moved by his gesture. I can still see his grin. It is, simply put, my most treasured physical thing!
My other treasures are my wife, Linda, my daughter, Elizabeth and son, Sammy. Elizabeth is 14 and Sammy nearly 11. Elizabeth plays the clarinet, trombone and the piano. Sammy is a drummer. Linda plays the radio, skillfully. I play the piano, guitar, banjo and the violin (although I have not picked up the latter in nearly 20 years.) I also sing in the church choir. Elizabeth is beginning to learn to play the guitar, but I bought for her a Martin Backpacker guitar for that purpose. After she is able to play the complete Nora Jones Songbook, I'll let her play from time to time on Number 50. Playing on Number 51 will have to wait for much longer!
Your website got me thinking about violins again, and I am interested in the possibility of acquiring one made by your father. Any guidance on that would be so much appreciated.
I have looked at your family on the website, and must say that they are a beautiful bunch. I know Seth was proud of all of them.
Well, sorry for making this so long-winded. I am glad that I came across your contact information, and wish you and your lovely family the best in this New Year.
Much blessing. Sam Fairchild"Thank you Mr. Fairchild, Mr. Phelps, Mr. Ward, Mr. Rissel, and Mrs McPeeters
for taking time to send these comments. What a blessing they are to our family!
Wayne Coffin and Dad
Wayne Coffin, Dad, and Dan Rissel.
These are two "killer twelve-strings" Dad made for Mr. Coffin and Mr. Rissel.
Thank you, Mr. Ward, for these photos, taken around 1975.
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Graphics courtesy of...
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