There were homemade practice pads before any other. There still are.

The first US patent for a drum practice pad was granted in 1920 to Henry Bower, a drummer and teacher who created a “drum practice device” so that drummers could practice anywhere without having to lug a drum along. There was no claim made about the practice device being quieter than an actual drum, only more portable; Bower’s design utilized a wood base, with a wool batting as a middle layer and topped by a piece of hard fiberboard, the same as was used for drum cases (and which was still used for drum cases, up through the late 1980s, when hard plastics improved enough to supplant fiberboard). The result was a practice pad with a very hard, articulate response and tone which was barely muted at all by the wool batting. Bower then licensed his design to a drum shop in Los Angeles, which then produced the pads in quantity and had distribution rights.

But drummers had made their own pads for private use before Bower got his patent. These homemade pads were essentially one-offs, made by the drummer for his personal use. 

A number of working drummers continued to make and use their own practice pads after mass-produced pads became widely available. Why? There’s no single definite reason. The pads in the first photo below represent different decades in modern drum history, from the 1950s into the early 1980s, when mass-produced practice pads were plentiful and relatively inexpensive. However, most of the mass-produced pads during this time were made with a built-in tilt, rather than flat. (Remo’s tunable pads even came with a slight tilt built into the design, which didn’t really go away until the 1990s. They also cost more than the simple rubber-on-wood pads did.)

Most drummers were still being taught traditional grip up through the late 1970s, and drums were still carried on the march at a tilt (using a webbed shoulder sling and a leg rest) until the early 1980s, when the modern drum corps movement took off. West Coast drum corps such as the Santa Clara Vanguard taught their snare drummers to use matched grip and carried their snare drums as parallel to the ground as possible. These corps inspired and spearheaded development of sturdier drum carriers with adjustable tilt so that players using matched grip didn’t have to wear a shoulder sling. By the late 1980s, more commercially-made pads were being made flat to accommodate matched grip players. 

(Incidentally, when I began learning snare drum in 1973 I was taught traditional grip. I didn’t learn matched grip until I began high school and the section leader insisted on everyone using matched grip for the sake of uniformity. I learned to use both, but whenever I sat behind a drum kit I tilted my snare drum and used traditional grip. I still play that way today, and my practice pad station at home utilizes a tilted platform so I can use flat pads on it with traditional grip. I’m just stubborn, I guess.)

Photo, L to R:

Homemade pads made and used by Jim Dinella, Don Wunn and Norman Grossman. 

The Don Wunn pad (center) is probably a 1950s Leedy pad that was refurbished with a replacement base of plywood and the rubber top reattached. Don Wunn ran a drum shop in Portland, Oregon in the 1950s, and sold the business in the early 1960s.

Jim Dinella was a music educator and professional drummer who wrote articles for a modern Drummer magazine and was a historian for the Percussive Arts Society. His pad was probably made in the 1970s and was obtained from his estate.

Normal Grossman ran a drum shop in New York City and authored several drum methods, while also maintaining a full private studio and performing at clubs around New York. As of 2024 he was reported as living quietly in New York City. I obtained this pad from Jon Singer, who was charged with disbursing his drum equipment and instruments.

Below: a practice pad made and used by Solomon Feldman, a drummer/percussionist based in New York. Made from a plywood base (which looks like it may have once been part of a utility cable spool) with a panel of leather affixed to one side. While leather is not widely used on mass-produced practice pads today, tanned leather has continued to be a responsive playing surface for drummers.**

I continue to look for homemade pads from drummers of an earlier age. I think they’re a great example of “beausage” — something made beautiful through usage, acquiring a patina that could only come from being well-worn. And in this era of mass-produced deck being made unsustainably and shipped from overseas, these old pads carry a poignancy that I really cherish.

(** Tackle Instrument Supply offers a fancy leather pad affixed to a hardwood base. At only 6” diameter and with a retail price of $75, I t’s meant as a coffee table collectible more than a serious practice implement.)

Note: depending on the age and condition of an old homemade pad, and whether or not you intend to play on it, you *may* choose to stabilize older wood by applying a thin coat of wood hardener. Wood hardener does exactly what it says it does — it hardens the wood by filling in the wood fibers. (On furniture projects, it’s often followed up with light sanding and staining or paint.) 

Working in a well-ventilated area, tape off any areas you don’t want to touch with the liquid hardener, apply a thin coat with a small sponge brush and let dry overnight. Choosing to alter and/or play on an old wood is a personal choice that can be influenced by many factors, including the age of the pad, the fame of the drummer who made it, the scarcity of that drummer’s personal equipment and the condition of the pad before altering.

I would never alter my Bower pad! It’s over a hundred years old and extremely rare, and even in better condition I wouldn’t really want to play on it. Conversely, I did make some attempts to stabilize the Jim Dinella pad because it was newer and in relatively good condition. I added a little foam on the bottom to keep it from skidding, and I stabilized a couple of joined corners with a small amount of clear glue. Again, consider all the factors and use prudent judgment.

Happy drumming.

Vintage Corner: Henry Adler adjustable practice pad, 1940s

I’ve been looking for one of these for a very long time. I had all but given up hope when suddenly this one appeared online for sale. I hesitated for a few days, then finally decided to go ahead and buy it.

It arrived in complete and functional condition.

As the photos make clear, the pad is in surprisingly good shape for being almost eighty years old.

However, the rubber was hardened and deeply cracked with age and exposure [to sunlight], and in its original condition wasn’t really playable.

After researching possible ways to renew the rubber, it became clear that the damage was too great, and I would either have to let it be or replace it.

I took a couple of days to consider my options.

Leaving the pad as is would mean that it would be relegated to a strictly historical artifact, a museum piece destined for a plexiglas glass display case and inertia.

Replacing the rubber surface would greatly reduce its historical value — and possibly its monetary value —  to collectors. But it would also make the pad playable again.

I had to be honest with myself and admit that I had always hoped to find one in playable condition. But before I took the leap, I sought opinions on fellow drum pad enthusiasts.

Most encouraged me to make the pad playable again, and after considering all the responses and my own feelings, that’s what I ended up doing.

Removing the original rubber was a slow, painstaking process. I took my time, not wanting to damage the wood underneath. I lightly sanded down the wood surface to remove the worst of the glue and allow the replacement rubber to lay flat.

Then, I selected a 1/8” thick piece of gum rubber and trimmed it to match the shape and size of the original, so that the overall aesthetic wouldn’t be too altered. I had considered using 1/4” thick rubber, but I decided on something that would give me greater articulation and also allow for a wider range of volumes without my having to hit the pad so hard. It IS almost eighty years old, after all.

I carefully glued and weighted down the rubber on the wood, let it dry and tested it. So far, so good.

Finally, because the wood was unfinished as far as I could tell, I decided to seal it with a clear coat of wood hardener, which would protect and strengthen the wood surface all around. It would also protect what remained of the decal, which shows Henry Adler’s name and the address of his New York shop and studio. (If you click on Henry’s name above, it will take you to an interview with him by Jim Dinella. I own pads from each of them now.)

(Later versions of this pad would carry a decal from George Way, who’d been licensed by Adler to produce and sell the pads. These later models also had a metal lever rather than a wooden knob, and were painted red or green like Way’s other pad offerings. When George Way was bought out by Camco, the Adler pad was no longer made. 

Here is a later version of the Adler design, sold by George Way in the 1950s. Note the sliding metal lever, and that the doors are hinged at the top rather than the bottom. (Photo still taken from Instagram video, courtesy of Michael Windish.)

Adler’s patent for this design was granted in 1950 and the pad was in production for less than ten years total. I believe mine is an early, pre-patent edition of this pad dating from the late 1940s.)

The original white “feet” were very small and one was missing. I removed them all and swapped in some  slightly larger white feet from a Ludwig pad. They tapped into the existing nail holes nicely.

The whole thing was allowed to dry outside under cover from the rain all day. When it stopped being smelly, I brought it indoors to become accustomed to the indoor temperature, and I was done.

I’m not sorry that I brought this pad back to life. I’m pleased with how it turned out and will enjoy it for a very long time.