Blacksmith’s Banjos Sold Around The World LINDA WILLIAMS Bedford Co. Correspondent BEDFORD (Bedford Co.) Bob Rock is a household word among Bedford County farmers. Today, few people work at blacksmithing as a trade. Bob Rock is proof then; is a great need for his trade. Without his exper tise, a lot of farm machinery or tools might have to be thrown away. He’s been making tools for 58 years. Even major agricultural tool dealers, like John Deere, send people to Bob when particular or unusual parts are needed. Recently, Penelec was delight ed to find a real live blacksmith still at work. “We were able to get knives sharpened that we would have otherwise have had to throw away,” says a spokesman. At 84, he’s not about to retire. “I know most people consider re tirement around the age of 65,” Bob comments. “But, I don’t plan to quit until they start digging a hole.” It’s difficult to visit Rock with out having customers or visitors interrupting. Some slop by to have a tool fixed or a part for a machine mended. He’ll take lime to fix a Rock’s special handmade banjos Include hand-paint ed Indian paintings by local artist Rita Popellsh. wagon for a little boy or just to chat with a farmer on a rainy day. Bob is well known among Bed ford County farmers for his “Rock wagon,” and his thriftincss ex tends to creating some tools or knives out of scrap steel. In more recent years, his fame has spread to the world of music. Bob can play the banjo, and, in 1960, he began making them to sell. Today, he has banjos all over the world including seven in Ire land and five in Norway. Bclicvjng in keeping things simple. Bob keeps his orders un der a rock and his paid receipts fastened together with a clothes pin. He never advertises. Ho doesn’t have to, orders pile in much faster than he can fill them. Rock remembers the first time he ever heard banjo music. Grow ing up in a log cabin near the farm where he lives today, Bob had gone to Lut/villc with his father for groceries. Someone was play ing a record of banjo music and, he couldn’t gel it out of his mind. “l kept it in my head lor the next couple of years,” he recalls. “And, finally made my own in strument. That banjo was fashion ed from a lard can lid, some shav ed out wooden pegs, and dynamite wires were used for the siring.” Rock played the instrument completely from memory. It was in the 1950 s that he got serious about playing a real banjo and set out in search of a good instrument. Packing up his wife and son, Bernard, he headed for Boston, Massachusetts, where he wanted to buy a Bigler instrument from the factory. He was disappointed when, upon arrival, he discovered the factory was no longer making a five stringed instrument. “We were ready to leave,” he recalls, “when my son looked up and saw a banjo for sale in a music store, it was second hand, but was a good instrument. Some lady had played it on the radio.” Bob bought it and came back to Bedford County to help start a siring band which played for square dances and fun events at Camp Sunshine for the next 14 years. Then an old friend, Ralph Karns, began pestering Rock for his banjo. He sold it and ordered another for himself. Growing impatient wailing for the new instrument to arrive, he decided to make his own. It was such a success, he wished he wouldn’t have ordered one. When it came, his wishes were increased. “It was just a piece of junk,” he says. “It was such poor workmanship that I just stuffed it under a bed and left it there. Se veral years later I sold it for 575, which was much less than I had paid but I just wanted to get rid of it.” It didn’t lake long for word ol Rock’s banjo to spread. An owner of a local store stopped by to sec il she could buy it for her son. “I told her n wasn’t lor sale,” he remem bers. “But she persisted. And, I decided il I made one, 1 could make another. “Then," Rock recalls, “some one saw that banjo and came to me for another. It just kept growing that way.” Somewhere over the next few years, he did find lime to create an instrument for himself which is quite special. The neck is fashion ed from walnut and the drum from sassafras. His special banjos known as, “Big Chicl,” include an Indian painting designed by a lo cal artist, Rita Popchsh. “She docs excellent work,” Rock says. “She’s an asset to my banjos.” The heads of the banjos arc always made from a special type of plastic. “ They uscid to make them from calf skin,” he com ments. “But no one wants them any more.” Rock’s final touch is to decor ate the neck with abalonc inlays. Lancaster Farming, Saturday, January 12, 1991-811 Bob Rock playing one of his banjos “The cost of abalonc has increased so much in the past few years that it’s almost getting prohibitive,” he says. “When I started making ban jos, it was SB5 a pound. Now it’s more than S3OO. “The quality of the music de pends on the lone rings,” Rock comments. “I’ve tried making them from steel, brass and alum inum. Aluminum seems to work the best so that’s what I’m using now.” Rock attends banjo rallies. The man he considers to be the best banjo player this country ever had, Lloyd Longakcrs, saw the Rock banjo and wanted one. When that order was complete, he continued to place orders until he owned a total of five. Rock has squirreled several in struments away for his great grandsons. This was after furnish ing his son and two granddaugh ters with banjos for a country music group which they have es tablished. Some of the wood for these family banjos came from the Chinese chestnut tree Rock plant ed on his farm more than 50 years ago. He has also used wood from butternut and walnut trees grown on the farm. Bob continues to play with a lo cal group of string musicians. They entertain at nursing homes and senior citizen events around the county. Rock says playing the banjo is easy for him because his fingers have hardened from years and years of blacksmithing. Not one to neglect his physical health, Rock runs on a regular ba sis. Several years ago, he had to leave his car at a g.trage about five miles from his home. When the mechanic offered him a ride home he declined. “No thanks, I’ll just run home,” he remember saying. “No one believed I actually Htcmesfead c foies meant run,” he laughs. “Were they surprised when I took off down the road at a near trot.” He docs admit to shortening his work hours in recent years. “I used to always work until midnight,” he says. “But recently I’ve been quit ting about 9 p.m.” Bob also finds time to care for his wife who is seriously ill. He would like to find more hours in the day to do some work with his metal detector. “I guess I should just stop talcing orders,” he says. “Because once I have an or der, I always feel I have to fill it. I always keep my word.” Only six days of his weeks are filled with work. On the seventh. Rock rests. “It’s a promise I made to myself a long time age,” he re members. “I had a good job at a local quarry. They asked me to come in one Sunday and I explain ed that it was against my princi ples.” Well, they told me that princi ples or not, I would either come to work on Sunday or not work I chose the latter and started m> own blacksmithing business. I’ve never been sorry.” For a time Rock’s son, Bernard, helped his dad with the black smilhmg. “Then people started bringing him radios to be fixed,” he remembers. “Bernard didn’t know much about radios, but he fixed them anyway. Then, it was television ” It wasn’t long after that that Bernard realised how bad the tele vision reception was in Bedford County and he, a friend, and his father started the first television cable system in the area. It was Bob who climbed the trees to string the wires for the system. “I was the only one who wasn’t afraid,” Bob laughs. “I was the monkey in die group.”
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers