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Searching for a Cello

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In 1984 Des won a coveted post as the Montreal Symphony's associate principal cellist. He realized it was time to retire Mellow Yellow: He was on his way to the big leagues, and Mellow Yellow wasn't up to that level of play.

Des had $15,000 in contest winnings to use as a down payment, and with that grubstake he went cello shopping in New York. At Jacques Francais, a large instrument shop owned by one of this century's most venerated violin experts, he spotted a chocolate-brown cello. Made in Turin, it was designed by Antonio Guadagnini, a descendant of G.B. Guadagnini II, who was reportedly Stradivari's pupil. Today, a G.B. Guadagnini cello can fetch half a million, but cellos by Guadagnini's descendants cost less. Jacques Francais's Guadagnini -- a mere 119 years old -- is considered "modern" and was priced at $40,000.

Des took it home to Montreal for a long test-drive, the extended trial period that's standard operating procedure among cello buyers. Instrument sellers know that a musician won't buy until he gives an instrument a good workout in a concert hall with listeners he trusts. Not only do instruments sound different in such a large space, they sound different to the audience than to the player. Italian cellos, for instance, sound bright and scratchy directly under the ear, but to an auditorium listener, their tone is rounded and focused.

Des loved the Guadagnini's richness -- a huge improvement over Mellow Yellow. After three weeks, he phoned a dealer at Jacques Francais and told him he was ready to buy. Excited, the dealer asked Des the price of the instrument.

Des hesitated and for some reason fibbed: "I'm not really sure. I don't remember." He remembered perfectly -- $40,000 is a lot of money.

Back on the phone, the dealer gave him the store's asking price: $35,000.
Silently, Des did the math. The first salesman at Jacques Francais had tacked on $5,000 more than the store's actual asking price -- perhaps, Des thought, because he had looked young and inexperienced, an easy mark. Des vowed never to be taken again.

Des's career continued to prosper. In 1991 he became the Houston Symphony's principal cellist. The job was both prestigious and satisfying: He got to work with conductor Christoph Eschenbach and to lead one of the best cello sections in the world. But the chocolate-brown Guadagnini didn't seem up to the task. Des began to notice the darkness in its tone, the muddiness that didn't allow him to achieve the effects he wanted. It wasn't enough anymore to have an Italian cello; Des wanted one of the old Italian cellos, the best of their kind.

Realistically, he aimed for the tier slightly below the pinnacle. Even superstars can't afford the most expensive instruments: Yo-Yo Ma, for instance, owns only one-third of the Strad he plays; a consortium of banks owns the rest.

Four years ago Des connected with a Maryland dealer who'd acquired a 1786 Lorenzo Storioni cello made in Cremona. The instrument was numbered 1,019, but only six others like it still existed. A paper trail traced its ownership back to December 8, 1945, the date of its earliest known certificate of authenticity. Des thought it had an unusual, beautiful design. Covered with a red-brown varnish, its maple sides had a small curl. A plain scroll adorned its neck, and its top was crafted from medium-grain spruce.

When testing a cello, Des relies on a handful of listeners, people he trusts to assess how the instrument's voice sounds in the concert hall. One of those listeners is Peter Shaw, a violin restorer and the owner of Amati Violin Shop near Rice University. When Des and other cellists in the orchestra are trying new cellos, they usually go to Shaw. He's happy to tinker with the instrument a little to make it sound right: He can change out strings, reposition the bridge, maybe even adjust the inside sound post.

To Shaw, it seemed only appropriate that Des should play an old Italian cello. Shaw estimates only 10 percent of Houston Symphony string players perform with "modern" instruments such as Des's chocolate-brown Guadagnini. More than 80 percent, he figures, play on pre-1880 designs, and about 5 percent own a rare Italian violin or cello that dates back to Italy's golden age of violin making, the era between the 17th and 18th centuries that produced the master, Antonio Stradivari, and others nearly as good.

What makes antique Italian instruments so special remains a mystery. To the trained ear, their sounds are noticeably colorful and open; they possess a core that's not too focused; they're able to project. Other old cellos simply aren't as good: Antique French cellos tend to sound bright but nasal; antique German ones sound sweet but soft.

Some musicologists say the secret lies in the varnishes, some of which were concocted from oil thinned with wine, with a little bee glue mixed in. Others believe Stradivari carved the belly and the back with a special touch. One legend had it that old masters knew how to tap live trees to find the most resonant wood.

The scientific community persists in putting Stradivari's designs under a microscope, but Shaw prefers to explain their magic in architectural terms. "There's not one single element that makes a great violin," he says. "It's a combination. If you're not 100 percent on a few details, you still have a good violin. The better you do in all of them, the better the instrument."

The Storioni dated from that magical period, and to Des it seemed like a contender. He brought it to symphony rehearsals of the opera Der Rosenkavalier. But finding a stringed instrument is a bit like finding a mate: A good pedigree helps, but it's more important that the musician and the instrument be compatible. Des's gut told him the Storioni wasn't right. It didn't respond to his vigorous style of playing. He feared he might eventually break it.

But even as Des was deciding the instrument wouldn't work, the cellist who sat behind him was falling in love. Bob Deutsch, a friend of Des's, loved listening to Des's solos on the Storioni. Bob hoped Des would buy it, but he could tell his friend wasn't that keen on it.

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