A MAKER OF PIANOFORTES
How John Brinsmead walked from Devon to London and made a fortune.
Mr. John Brinsmead, as a lad, was a farm boy, plough boy and cattle minder. He came to London without capital, and has since made over 50,000 pianos, a great reputation and a fortune.
The personality of John Brinsmead, splendid among worksmen, the head and fine flower of his craft and maker of perfect pianos, is a study that does one good to consider.
He is eighty-seven; he has worked with his hands since his earliest boyhood; he walked up to London from the West Country when he was twenty; he set himself to learn the true inwardness of every particle of pianoforte construction; he started in business on his own account before the late Queen came to the throne; he has made 50,000 pianos by actual account; after 75-years of labour is still the highest authority in the world on "voicing" of the instrument he has made a life study, still an expert workman, still an unerring judge of timber, still referred to by every member of his staff in every point of difficulty, still an enthusiast in his work, still planning further improvements. It is a record to be proud of!
His First Pocket Money
John Brinsmead was born in 1814, the year before Waterloo, in the village of Weir Gifford, which is by the banks of the rushing and romantic river Torridge, between Bideford arid Torrington, in North Devon.
The Brinsmeads had been established here for many generations, as a long line of tombstones in the village churchyard testifies, and seemed to have always belonged to the farmer and small trading class. John's father was no exception to the rule. He was a farmer and lime-burner, and as soon as the boy reached a suitable age he became eager to help his father in both occupations.
While still very young, Master Brinsmead formed the idea of borrowing one of his father's carts and driving into Torrington every morning for the purpose of fetching coals, which he retailed to the villagers, to his own exceeding profit. His exceptional energy also found an outlet in another direction. A large quantity of limestone for his father's kilns was obtained from Cauldy Island, near Tenby, on the Welsh Coast, immediately opposite Bideford. Young Brinsmead was a clever boatman, and he made frequent voyages in a sailing boat from the Torridge to Cauldy for this purpose.
Sheep Farmer Too!
In one way and another, the youngster earned a respectable amount of pocket money, which he judiciously invested - in sheep! As soon as he had accumulated a sufficient amount the boy bought a sheep, which he turned loose on the adjoining downs. His purchase thus cost him nothing for "keep", as. the downs were common land. From time to time he bought other sheep in the same way until eventually he found himself possessed of a useful little flock of sixteen.
Unfortunately young Brinsmead's prospects as a flockmaster were suddenly dashed to the ground; the whole of his little flock was stolen, and with it went all his youthful savings. The blow was disasterous, for in those days there were no police, no telegraphs, no means of recovering live stock, which was always in danger of being driven off by wandering thieves, unless constantly watched - and that in the nature of things, was not always possible. The boy felt the loss of his sheep terribly, but to this day he attributes to this sheep-farming venture the fact that he subsequently became a wealthy man.
"Directly I had saved enough money," he says, "I bought a sheep with it, and then, when I had got enough saved to buy another, I invested that in the same way. That got me into the habit of saving money, and I have never given it up."
Keeper of Cattle on Exmoor
When he was twelve years old, young Brinsmead was removed from the school at which he had been placed at Torrington; and the next twelve months, as his bent then seemed to be towards an agricultural career, he spent on an adjoining farm. Here he learned to plough, and so on; and before the end of the year he was placed in charge of the cattle on Exmoor, and other wild and desolate parts of North Devon. The desire for a farmer's life soon passed off, however; and the reason was not far to seek. With the years of adolesence came the yearnings of the craftsman; the desire to create things; the craving to evolve the thing that can be seen and handled overcame and superceded the mere selfish tendency towards the acquisition of material possessions, and the striving towards a fuller and more ardent life, began.
Pianoforte Making via Cabinet Making
After he had followed farming for a year, the lad was entered as an apprentice to a cabinet maker at Torrington, and here he spent the next six or seven years. The work was hard for his day commenced at six, and seldom finished until seven at night -or thirteen hours later - but the youth delighted in his work, and rapidly mastered his trade; so that long before his "time was out," he was an expert workman. He had abundant energy in those days, and thought nothing of a thirty mile walk; indeed his first visit to Exeter, which was thirty-six miles away, was performed on foot, after a long day's work. During the term of his apprenticeship, he formed the design of going to London and starting in business as a pianoforte maker. He was led to this resolve by two reasons. In the first place, his intimacy with his uncle and cousins had given him a love for musical instruments; and, secondly - doubtless in consequence of similar experiences - his elder brother (Henry - born 24th May 1812) was already established in London as a maker of pianos.
He Walked From Devon to London
John resolved that he would do as his brother had already done before him, and in the year 1835, while William IV was still King, he walked up to London, from his home in the little West Country village, with his cabinet maker's tools in a basket on his back, and went into a pianoforte factory as a journeyman case maker.
The trade, as a distinct trade, was new to him, but within six months this novice of twenty-one was earning twice as much money as the most experienced man in the factory, and was able to put aside not less than thirty shillings a week. John was probably the only man in the factory who saved anything at all, for in those days case makers, as a class were a terribly drunken lot (although for what reason it is impossible to say). The bulk of their earnings was spent in drink, and here young Brinsmead had the advantage all round, for he was exceedingly temperate, although not a total abstainer, had no expensive habits, enjoyed the rudest of health, and was a perfect glutton for the work he delighted in.
An Unsatisfactory Partnership
In the days when John Brinsmead started in London, the case maker made every part of the case, from beginning to end, so that he had the opportunity of becoming thoroughly grounded in the work. So well did he succeed that he was soon passed on to the more difficult work of making sounding boards, in the manufacture of which his firm is today supreme. Having perfected himself as a master of this particular branch of his craft, he entered into partnership with his elder brother (Henry), to whom reference has already been made.
John undertook the responsibility of making the cases and sounding boards, while his partner occupied himself with the finishing of the instruments. John stuck closely to work, while his brother, finding that he had such an excellent partner, became lax in his attention to the factory and devoted himself to his favourite study of the theory of music, and to lecturing, of which he was also very fond.
Naturally enough, the brothers were in danger of falling out, and one day things came to a climax in consequence of an unhappy remark let fall by the senior to the effect that the junior had been taken into the partnership merely as an act of grace, and because he was a younger brother. "Besides," he added "the work you are doing is not so important as mine!"
Young John was much too high-spirited to put up with a remark of that kind without resentment. He had made it his boast that he had never played second fiddle to anyone, brother or no brother, and he resolved to terminate the partnership forthwith.
"I thought we were partners," he said, "I'll never stop in partnership with anyone if I'm not his equal; I'd rather be a journeyman!" and he put on his coat and left the premises forthwith.
"Now," said this youth of twenty-one, "I've got health and strength, and I wont give in until I can make a piano better than any other living man!"
A few weeks later John Brinsmead started business in Windmill Street, Tottenham Court Road, with a staff consisting of himself, one man and a small boy, and from this small beginning sprang the firm which has since become world famous.
Honeymoon by Coach
In a few months the new business was sufficiently established for the cautious young countryman to feel justified in marrying the girl of his heart (Susan). They took their honeymoon to Dover by coach, and thence back through Canterbury, and settled down, on their return, at the factory in Windmill Street. Here they remained for about three years, by which time Mr Brinsmead had saved enough to buy the lease of larger premises in Charlotte Street, close by, and behind the house he built larger workshops. Subsequently, an additional factory was taken in Chenies Street, on a site now occupied by flats.
When this accommodation proved inadequate, some few years later, Brinsmead bought the freehold of an acre of land in Grafton Road, Kentish Town, where the present extensive factory - which includes no fewer than 33 workshops, besides vast timber stores where timber is kept on an average for five years before it is 'used,) warehouses, etc - was built.
Over thirty years ago the sale rooms of the firm were removed to Wigmore Street, as the demand for central West End showrooms became more and more necessary, and a few years since, on a fresh lease being obtained, the whole of the premises were rebuilt as they stand today.
A Fire and a Misfortune
This huge success has not been gained, of course, without many ups and downs. In 1850, when Mr. Brinsmead was working night and day in preparation for the Great Exhibition of the following year, and his Charlotte Street factory was crammed with valuable timber and partly-completed pianos, the entire establishment was burnt to the ground. The blow was a terrible one at the time, and nearly crippled him. His reputation stood high even then, however, and the rest of the trade rallied nobly round him in the hour of his misfortune, supplied him with timber and other necessaries, and helped him over the worst with such good result that when the Exhibition came, he was able to carry off the first award for his pianos.
He suffered another dire misfortune in connection with a timber business upon which he once embarked. Mr. Brinsmead is one of the finest judges of timber in the World, and he formed the design of starting a timber business, largely for the benefit of one of his sons. The business was placed under a manager, as Mr. Brinsmead had no time to devote to it himself, and the manager absconded, leaving his employer heavily involved. On this occasion, also, Mr. Brinsmead's friends rallied round him, and he was able to extricate himself with all possible honour from the difficulties in which he had been placed through no fault of his own.
From a book written in 1905 called "How Fortunes were made"
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