The Cashies Rescue Banjolin

This is a strange one. I caught sight of this little thing in one of local Adelaide content creator Wade DankPods’ recent videos. He, like myself, is a surveyor of second-hand stores for specimens of beauty that fit our respective hobby niches, although he makes videos out of his trips to the almighty Cashies. In his most recent outing, he pointed out this thing hanging on the wall in the Prospect branch, curious as to what it was, and it immediately caught my eye.

This little thing is a banjo mandolin or banjolin for short, and they are a bit of a rarity these days, or at least uncommon. What’s more, most of the banjolins I’ve seen in the states have open-back style bodies and if they were closed-back, still use full-size ~10-11inch banjo heads. This mystery banjolin has a full wooden closed-back, and a tiny ~4inch natural skin head, making it look more like a scaled-down banjo, as opposed to a banjo with a tiny neck attached.

Example of an Open-back style banjolin with full-size head

Example of an closed-back style banjolin with full-size head

I had quite an internal debate about whether or not to buy this little number. Extraneous factors in my life at the moment make it so acquiring more objects is not exactly a wise decision. Nevertheless, I saw potential, a neglected vintage instrument, and no name on the headstock which not only meant a mystery to unravel, but a decent price at the till.

I decided to stop by the Prospect Cashies and just have a look at it while I was already out hunting for cheap old microphones. Initial inspection proved to be promising, with no more damage than could be seen in the photos online. The tuning machines were incredibly stiff from corrosion, and the red dot seen in the listing photos was not hiding any obvious faults.

A$150, which is generally above my threshold these days, but the A$900 bouzouki hanging next to it made me feel a lot better about it. And it came with the original case!

Now I’m feeling much better about my expenditure, but there was one more surprise waiting. As I’m placing the case in my car the sun hits it at the right angle for me to see writing in decades-old permanent marker. A name, which takes me a few seconds to decipher, but I can’t believe it when I do. Craig!

Extremely faint Craig

Enhance! (Maybe?)

Now this is weird, I happen to see this in a video, the video happens to be filmed in the city I’m in, I happen to fit the target audience for such an uncommon item, I go there to buy it and it happens to already have my name on it. That’s a lot of layers of happenings.

Anyway, after getting this back to the studio, it’s time to do some investigating into what exactly this thing is.

Banjo-mandolins or banjolins emerged alongside many other resonator-bodied instruments in the late 19th and early 20th century as a way to boost instrument volumes prior to electric amplification. Banjo heads along with some kind of wooden or metallic resonator design were an approach towards this, along with resonator guitars which exclusively used metallic resonators.

Additionally, in the era before recorded music was commonplace, smaller-scale parlour instruments were quite popular as in-home entertainment, especially for the majority of families who couldn’t afford a baby grand piano. Tenor guitars and banjos, ukeleles, and mandolins were perfect to have in the corner of a room for a party or family gathering. Before music stores ever sold vinyl, they sold the latest pop hits on sheet music to home musicians.

During this period mandolin orchestras and banjo bands were very popular around the world as large community ensemble groups of one instrument family or the other. This moment in history can be observed as recorded in composer and instrument manufacturer Samuel Swaim Stewart’s ‘Banjo, Guitar, and Mandolin Journal’ which ran from 1884 to 1900. (http://hdl.handle.net/1802/2586)

While it would be nice if this little $150 wonder was from 1890 or even 1920, I very much doubt that is the case. Let’s get back to figuring out where and when this thing is from.

Based on my research on google images and the mandolin cafe forums, this appears to be a copy of the banjo-mandolins produced by British companies like G. Houghton & Sons and John Gray & Sons in the 1920s and ‘30s, even down to the style of case.

1920s era G Houghton & Sons banjolin with case

I say copy because there are no identifying markings on the instrument besides the numbers 3 4 9 stamped into an area of the fretboard above the last fret, likely a production number. I have yet to find an exact match online, yet there exists a huge variety of features between examples, some of which can be found in our example here.

Certain features, however, I can find no example of online, like the design of the string saddle, there are a few that are similar, but none that are exact. The saddle/tailpiece is also fairly roughly shaped and has evidence of being worked by hand, not a mass-produced piece.

I cannot find any examples online of similar-style banjolins with these cream-coloured bands around the body in the positions they are in.

Another feature that I cannot find on any examples from my cursory research is this green nut, which is one feature that leads me to believe that this is not a truly vintage 1920s piece or at least not one produced in Europe. It’s plastic.

But it’s not a modern plastic. In fact, I think that this is a casein (galalith, erinoid) nut, which is an early plastic made from cow’s milk. Casein plastic was invented in 1893, and was a popular material up through until the 1940s when oil-based plastics began to take over, and WWII rationing limited milk supplies for large scale manufacture of the material.

Nevertheless, casein would continue to be used for its particular properties in certain things like costume jewellery, buttons, pens, and instrument parts.

Now we’re moving into total speculation territory, but bear with me

Starting around 1908 Australia, at this point in history flush with cattle and producing milk and beef like crazy, began exporting powdered milk protein to Britain and the U.S. for plastic production. (http://www.austbuttonhistory.com/australian-button-history/federation-to-ww2/)

That being said, domestic production of casein products in Australia did not begin until 1939, which would seem to fly in the face of the start of Allied rationing efforts, but rationing was never as strict in Australia as it was in Britain or the U.S. (https://www.awm.gov.au/articles/encyclopedia/homefront/rationing , https://collection.powerhouse.com.au/object/240409)

As a result, Australian domestic casein plastic production continued to a degree, servicing local demand for plastics during the war period.

Remember, full speculation mode, but I believe that this green nut indicates that this is an Australian domestically produced copy of a British import banjolin, produced sometime in the 1940s-50s.

It could be from the late ‘30s, but the lack of any other examples from that period with such a vibrantly coloured nut, suggests to me that most nuts of that period were either truly bone, or attempting to visually imitate bone.

Furthermore, it seems to me that this nut is not a first-choice material, even for a budget instrument. Instead, it seems to be more of what was practically available at the time, in the colour it was available in. If it is casein plastic, production in the ‘40s or early ‘50s would align with the beginning of domestic casein plastic manufacturing, and limitations on imports from trade partners.

We know it is the original nut because it has areas that have been painted over with the original lacquer. Also, the production numbers 3 4 9 stamped in the fretboard indicate a production run of under 1,000 units, a much smaller run for this size and quality of instrument than would normally be produced by a larger manufacturer for export.

Okay, let's stop speculating and get down to fixing this thing up.

As can be seen in the product photos from the Cashies website we are missing some strings, and the strings we do have are a lost cause. Besides some staining the head is perfectly fine, still somewhat flexible, and the bridge is in surprisingly good shape.

I began by cutting off the old strings, setting the bridge aside, and giving the whole thing a quick clean with a damp rag. I was very ginger when attempting to clean the head, using very little moisture and force, and didn’t manage to have any real effect on the stains. Oh well, I’m too afraid of ruining the head to do anything more, so it will keep its established character.

After cleaning everything and letting it sit for a minute, I gave the fretboard, headstock, and damaged areas of the body a very light wipe-down with some polymerized tung oil, providing a bit of a protective layer, but not enough it impact its original appearance at all.

Wiping down the fretboard I discovered perhaps the most egregious damage to this instrument, the absolute butchering of these few frets. This could have happened after the instrument was sold, an attempt at a repair that went too far, or it could have happened during initial manufacturing as the file marks are very similar the the work marks shown on the tailpiece earlier, interesting. These frets will rear their ugly heads later.

Mill file on frets? Very naughty.

I then began working on freeing up the tuning machines so they could actually spin freely again. I used a brass brush dipped in WD-40, and worked each machine head back and forth until they would spin with minimal effort, wiping up the remaining WD before it could eat up the finish.

Before

After

Finally, it was time to get some new strings on this thing. I went with a light set of strings, (10-34) because I wanted to keep tension on the old banjo head as low as possible. When restringing a mandolin, or any instrument with a free-floating bridge, I always start with the outermost two strings to set the lateral position of the bridge and intonation as setting those two correctly will put all the other strings where they need to be.

I began on this endeavour not knowing that what would follow would be the most painful string change I’ve ever done. This tailpiece saddle thing is an absolute menace, I can’t even describe all the ways in which this is a terrible design.

So many harsh bends.

In the end, I needed to use a screwdriver to hold each string on its little post, and a capo at the headstock to hold the string at that end while winding it up with whatever free appendage.

Before changing all the strings, however, I needed to adjust the bridge to get the string action down to a playable level. This involved a lot of sanding the bridge down and testing the string height, sanding some more and testing again. After getting it to a point where I was happy, almost completely shaving the legs of the bridge down, I could put the remaining strings on and start to tune it up.

Big gap.

Sanding.

Small gap.

Now this isn’t the first time I’ve worked on a banjo, but it is the first time I’ve done a bridge adjustment on a banjo head. One aspect that I was not expecting, but should have, is the fact that with string tension pushing down on the bridge, the head will sink in a little bit. This caused my slick bridge adjustment to turn into a real hot-rod wicked-fast bridge job, with way less string height than I was planning on. Luckily, I stopped sanding when I did, because any further would have made the instrument unplayable.

Baby gap.

And here it is all dressed up!

Now, those butchered frets do impact a few notes, making them unplayable, which is a bummer. Otherwise, this little thing plays pretty great! I did tune it a whole-step below normal mandolin tuning, as the stress on the banjo head was beginning to worry me, but it sounds great and appears to hold its tuning fairly well. I don’t have the tools to fix those frets with me, but I would love to be able to fully correct that and have this thing play perfectly again, or maybe better than it ever has.

In the end, the origins of this thing are still a mystery, but that’s okay. Just like the bass in the last post, I’m just happy that it gets to live a little longer, and that I could be a part of helping it along.