Repairing vintage Ludwig pads

I love these old Ludwig pads from the 1960s and 70s.

For anyone who grew up playing on Mylar heads, these are darned near perfect. The feel is the closest to a real drum without the volume. They were sold separately and were also included in student kits with snare drum and bells.

Finding one today is difficult. Model P-378 (8”) turns up more often than model P-379 (10”), but you really have to scour the online want ads for them. Ludwig stopped making these pads in 1980 or so. They offered the parts for a few more years, but then stopped making those too. Very occasionally, I’ve found a replacement head or a few tensioning nuts online, but they’re rare and expensive because the seller usually knows what they have.

When I do find one, they are very often quite used, sometimes abused, and in need of repair. Lacking a supply of replacement parts, I’ve had to make do with what’s in front of me.

The original wood used for the baseplate and internal base was very soft, probably pine, to cut down on production costs. Unfortunately, that means it’s fragile and wears with time and use. The construction is simple, and that means a worn pad can be repaired or at least extended pretty easily.

So far, I’ve been lucky. I’ve been able to repair every pad I’ve found and make it useable again. Sometimes, it’s a matter of removing pieces, cleaning them up and reassembling.

Other times, the wood baseplate is pretty beaten up — splintered and/or warped — and I have to remove all of the metal buts, reverse the baseplate and reinstall them from the other side. Doing this helps to reverse some of the effects of warping, and gives the heads of each “finned screw” new wood to bite into.

In a couple of cases, owing to lack of replacement heads, I’ve chosen to add another layer to the head. Either from the underside or directly on top, to help the head last longer. Neither approach seems to affect the sound or feel adversely.

The latest pad I found, an 8” model, came from a private seller cleaning out her garage. We agreed on a price and I got the pad home, where I dismantled it and examined the pieces.

The baseplate was pretty hammered, and one of the tensioning nuts had rusted frozen to the finned screw. In order to save this pad, I would have to carve a bit of the wood away so I could gain purchase with pliers

and hold onto it while applying a spot of oil and turning the tensioning nut. I reasoned that when I had removed the screw, I could fill in the gouge with a thing piece of wood cut to fit, apply it with wood glue, and gently poke a new hole in the spot.

After removing the final screw, I filled in the divot with the tiny piece of wood and set it in the divot with wood glue, clamping it in place. When it dries, I should be able to carefully drill a new hole, ream it to size, and reassemble the pad.

(The tape applied on the side is there to keep the wood glue from running out.)

Once dry enough, I removed the clamp, poked a hole and called it good. The screw went in easily, and held fast to the new underside.

Other enthusiasts of this make and model, most notably Rick Dior, has a full workshop of tools, so when he has to restore one of these pads, he simply cuts a new baseplate from hardwood and installs the metal pieces into the new baseplate.

Since I don’t have power tools or much woodworking experience, I tend to do repairs that are more rough-and-ready. My goal is to make these pads useable again, not museum-worthy.

After flipping the baseplate, I reinstalled the threaded hole assembly. This required some care, so I wouldn’t crack the plywood baseplate while sinking the teeth into the other side. I laid shop rags across my bench vise with the jaws open, to allow the threaded center to poke through the other side without mangling the metal. 

Then I reinstalled the thick seating washer and the little rubber feet. I also laid in some Elmer’s Glue-All along the edges where the plywood was roughly finished. The hope is the fast-drying glue will help to keep those edges from splintering further. I can color them in with black paint pen if I like. 

And voila! Good enough to play for years to come.

Meanwhile, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for replacement parts.

BONUS TIPS:

1. In the old Ludwig parts catalog from 1970 (see first photo at top), The square nut for the tuning assembly is referred to as part # P-124. If you try to look for this part today you won't find it, as Ludwig stopped making it years ago.
However, Ludwig continued making and selling their part # P-125, advertised as the Super Classic Strainer Butt Plate Part, for a number of years after that (photo at left).

Guess what? It's exactly the same part, and will fit the threaded bolt on the old Ludwig pads. And if you ask for it by the other part number and name, you may have a slightly easier time finding a few.

2. Thanks to fellow Ludwig pad enthusiast Rick Dior, I was able to obtain these black vinyl end caps that slide over the tuning nuts, thereby saving my sticks from getting chopped up during practice. 

You can find them on eBay and elsewhere, or perhaps at a large local hardware store. For this application, get the size with the 6.5mm inside diameter.

Dating vintage practice pads

Some key points for those looking at old pads:

— Brown gum rubber may have been lighter tan. The only way to verify this is to peel back an edge and peek. Gum rubber that hasn’t been exposed to sunlight will retain more of a tan color. (If you accidentally pull off the gum rubber too far, simply glue it back. Spread a thin coat and roll a drum stick across the top to spread it evenly, turn over and weight down until dry.) 

— Mass produced, or homemade? How to tell? While it’s not an exact science, it’s worth noting that in the mid 20th century, a lot of Americans still knew how to work with simple hand tools and many did their home minor home repairs. The wood finishing here is just rough enough for this to possibly be homemade.

On the other hand, lower-grade wood was reserved by drum companies for things like practice pads, and the nicer quality planks 

That said, the small matching “feet” on bottom, and the clean cut of the round rubber and the edged wood top and bottom panels, both suggest that this may have been made in a local factory for a music store to sell. I’d guess a smaller, local outfit made it because of the lower overall standard of the wood used. (Most homemade pads wouldn’t be edged, and I’ve yet to see one with matching feet.)

— The larger 9 x 7” sized pads became less common in the late 1950s, as bigger drum companies sought to streamline pad manufacturing by offering fewer models. A smaller, standardized size would reduce the material required and cut costs. 

A pad that has no label or stamp can be harder to place, but I’d feel comfortable estimating this to be a smaller-scale, mass-produced pad from the late 1940s to early 50s. Happily, the rubber still feels great to chop on.

Vintage Corner: 1950s pad from Kitchen & Company, Leeds, UK.

This was a lucky find on eBay. I knew nothing about the design or the original company, but it was so unusual that I knew I wanted to add it to my collection. I contacted the seller and asked if she’d be willing to ship to the US, and she was delighted to calculate the cost.

It arrived today.

Based on how hard the rubber playing surface is, even accounting for its age, I think the pad might have been meant for pipe drummers. I have another pad of similar vintage (made in the US) using similar rubber and it’s only slightly softer than this. The pad itself measures 12 inches across. The arms extend out beyond the diameter of the wood base, but the placement of the softer gum rubber feet attached underneath suggest the pad could be used sitting atop a standard 14” snare drum. Despite its age, the gum rubber feet are still quite soft. I haven’t yet tried this on top of a snare drum, but that’s coming.

The age of the pad is unclear, but some clues suggest at least a rough decade of the 1950s:

— the wood is beautifully finished and stained like good furniture.

— the feet are the pure gum rubber found only on pads from the early 1950s or earlier.

— the badge is made of a thin white plastic, in a shape and size and with black embossed lettering, that is very similar to the badges used on Carradice bicycle saddlebags of the same era. (Carradice switched to cloth badges in the 1960s. I know this because when I worked in the bicycle industry, my shop sold Carradice bags and I’m familiar with that company’s history. I still use a Carradice bag on my bike today.)

I’ve reached out to a Leeds-based newspaper to see if they can help me research the history of R. S. Kitchen & Company. I will keep researching and report back with whatever I can find.

This is really unusual find both for geographical and historical reasons, and I’m thrilled to have found it.

I don’t own a set of pipe sticks (nor do I a know how to play in that style), but here’s a demo anyway.

Brush pads: extremely, painfully specialized

While the specialty pads that get the most press are focused on the marching arts, there’s a subset of practice pads designed for practicing brushes on.

When I was in college, my Dad played piano bar at a downtown nightclub. Very occasionally, I’d bring my brushes with me, and Dad would pull out the Yellow Pages, open them on the bar and let me quietly keep time while he played. The opened phone book had a great surface for brushes.

And it was free.

Since then, several drum companies have produced brush practice pads, with varying degrees of success.

Here are just a few that I’ve tried:

1. Remo Brush-Up pad. Designed with input from Ed Thigpen, a renowned master of brush playing, this was essentially a stiff rubber frame with a Remo Fyberskyn surface laid over a foam rubber mute. The pad worked as advertised, and was very quiet, but sold poorly and was only in production for a few years. If you can find one for sale online today, expect to pay several hundred dollars for it.

2. Brush Up pad by One Beat Better. This was  panel of wood with rubber nonskid strips on bottom and a clear textured coating on top. There was also a partial rim so you could practice rim rolls. Designed with input by Sherrie Maricle, this was a really nice practice item, just small enough to fit on top of a snare drum. It appears to be no longer available at this writing. 

3. Ahead 14-inch Brush Pad. Basic and useful, with a rubber side for stick practice and a textured side for brush practice. It just fits on a snare drum, or on a stand or tabletop. And it’s still available.

4. Attacktile by Evans. A recent entry into the market, this is an Evans rubber practice pad, based on MDF and topped by a rigid, textured layer. The playing surface is nice for brushes, but for some reason Evans chose to make this pad in a ten-inch size — not really large enough to practice full brush strokes. Also, the rigid surface has shown evidence of coming away from the base after a month or less of use, showing that the adhesion may need some more work. With adhesion improvement and a 14-inch size, this might be a really nice brush pad, but in my opinion the design needs some work.

5. Percussion Practice Pad by Pete Siers. Siers, a drummer and drum teacher, designed and made up a batch of these pads from Formica tile and at this writing is selling them online. The pad fits on top of a snare drum, but is also rigid enough to sit in a stand or on a tabletop. While the shiny side is the one intended for brushwork, I’ve found that the underside also works for a slightly different feel and sound. I recently acquired one of these and like it a lot. 

If the price of a brush-specific pad seems prohibitive — and I can’t blame you — you can look around for an old phone book. Or, since those are getting a lot harder to find in the Electronic Age, a 14” square or round of corrugated cardboard also works very well.

History lesson: the first Remo practice pads

The very first plastic drumhead was introduced to the market by Marion "Chick" Evans in 1956. It revolutionized drum heads overnight, leading the drum industry away from calfskin heads into a new age. Belli followed up very shortly after that with heads from a space-age material called Mylar, which proved wildly successful. Remo's heads were branded “Weather King” because they were nearly impervious to changes in temperature and humidity.

Belli founded a company around the new technology and along with drum heads, he began producing practice pads to show off the potential of the new material. These two pads date from 1958 and 1961, respectively. (Remo’s web site has a neat little timeline where you can see changes in the company logo, dated by year. It’s helpful to collectors in dating historic Remo products.)

The earliest Mylar heads were a tiny bit thicker than the tunable ones that followed. Still very resonant, but not quite as floppy-flexible. Stapled into the wood frame and stuffed with some kind of muffling foam that literally disintegrated with age so that now, they are just annoyingly loud. It feels like Formica if Formica had more give to it.

By 1963, the pads would become tunable, with metal rims, tuning screws and replacement heads — perhaps an early foray into sustainability, though no one was using that word in 1965. The late 60s saw plastic rims replacing the metal rims. This version of the tunable pad was the very first drum pad I learned on as a kid. I played that pad from 5th grade through my second year of college and three replacement heads along the way. While numerous other pad designs have supplanted the Remo pad, that pad is still in production today and literally millions of kids are still getting their start in drumming on one of those. It holds a dear place in my memory, and in my pad collection.

#knowyourhistory 

#sharethetradition 

#practicepads

Should I write a book about practice pads?

A friend suggested I research and write a comprehensive book about the history of drum practice pads.

It's an intriguing idea, especially now that I'm retired and have time.

It's also a daunting idea, because of the amount and kind of research required for such a book to be "comprehensive."

The last time I researched and wrote anything as thoroughly was a college term paper about Percussion Instruments in the Ottoman Empire. The course was a graduate-level course in Ottoman history that the instructor invited me to take for undergraduate credit (to be applied towards my certificate in Middle East Studies). The grad students had to submit a 50-page paper and oral presentation at the end of the term; as an undergrad, my paper could be 25 pages. I was fascinated and signed up for the class. The paper could be on any topic related to the Ottoman Empire. Eventually, I decided to write about Ottoman period percussion instruments and their influences on Western music.

I had contacted the Percussive Arts Society for help with my research, and while the respondent couldn't offer anything concrete, he invited me to send him a copy of the paper when it was finished. I told him I'd send him a copy if I got an "A" on it.
I struggled with the finer points of research and documentation, and wrote a 25-page typed paper, for which I gave an oral presentation in class. My oral presentation included demonstrations of modern percussion instruments that took their designs and uses from their Ottoman precursors.
I got an "A-" and sent the guy at PAS a copy.

A month later, the same fellow contacted me and asked if I'd give permission for the paper to be included in an upcoming issue of the PAS journal Percussive Notes. I was surprised, but said yes.
Two months later, I received two copies of the printed journal in the mail. I gave one to my instructor as a thank-you.

My instructor informed me that my paper had been published in a peer review journal. I had no idea what that meant. His mildly jealous graduate assistant explained it to me: "You got a scholarly paper published in an academic journal. Other academics -- people with graduate degrees, university professors and the like -- who subscribe to that journal can read what you wrote and offer comments and reviews of it. Undergrads don't generally get their papers accepted by peer review journals!"
I hadn't known such a thing existed. I was amazed and even a little proud of myself.
My professor was so tickled that he tacked a photocopy of the published article to the bulletin board outside his office.

That was the first and last time I ever worked so hard on a research paper, with citations and footnotes and everything.
I don't think of myself as an academic.

But the idea of writing a whole book on a topic, and especially researching it all, somewhat terrifies me. Which is a good sign that it's worth considering.

I don't yet know how to proceed. I don't yet know if it makes sense to try and create a printed, physical book; who would buy such a thing in the age of computers and e-readers?

But I am pondering the idea seriously. Feel free to reach out and tell me what you think.

Future Vintage: Matoon practice pad

Chris Mattoon is based in the mid west and tours with a couple of different bands. A student of Bernard Purdie, he became interested in making drums and percussion accessories while still a student, and went on to create his own company of custom made drums.

For awhile, Chris made beautiful practice pads from machined aluminum and gum rubber. Small (3" in diameter) and very portable, they were meant to be used on a stand or a knee platform. For a short time, he made them out of both plain aluminum and also with custom drum wrap finishes. They were highly desirable by drummers and collectors, and in production for only a few years.

I recently acquired this one from Reverb, complete with a knee platform.

It took some time for me to warm up to it, but now I enjoy its portability and response. The small size forces me to work on accuracy, and I like that too.

These pads sold new in the mid 2010's for anywhere from $100 to 150. Today, they are rare and might sell for as much as $200 depending on finish and condition. I got mine for $75 because the gum rubber was starting to show a little yellowing and age, but it still plays nicely. I store it with another mini-pad on top of it to minimize the exposure to sunlight, which is a good idea for all gum rubber pads.

Chris no longer makes these pads, preferring to focus on teaching, touring and making custom drums by request.