In 1969 I became the bell tuner at Taylor’s, stepping into the role as the previous tuner prepared to retire. As the name implies, the bulk of the work—around 95%—was establishing the first five notes of a new bell using tuning forks with resonator boxes that filled an entire wall. The tuner would machine the bell in precise places to lower the “partials” so that each note sat in the correct musical relationship.
When a new bell had to blend with older bells—sometimes a century old—the notes of those bells were recorded on tape during the initial inspection. Back in the tuning shop, we played the recording, established each partial using the forks, and often drew a graph correlating weights and frequencies to determine how best to improve the older bells and incorporate the new one. Our tuning books—A6 in size but 2 inches thick—were identical in form to those first used around 1900.
The remaining 5% of the job involved specifying the plates screwed onto the strickle, known as a “crook”—a tool resembling a bishop’s crook. Sets of three plates determined the inner shape of the bell (the “core”), influencing the notes “as cast”. The outer profile was the standard Taylor shape, scaled appropriately to form the cope inside its cast-iron case. We recorded the strickle settings, weights, and as-cast notes in a large “Crook Book”, which contained a page for every bell size.
In 1977 Paul Taylor, then aged 63, was preparing to semi-retire, and I was invited back to become his “sorcerer’s apprentice”. The role was entirely different from tuning, and Paul—who was a genius and the last of the Taylor family involved in the foundry—patiently taught me what I needed to know. On the rare occasion he felt I was taking too long to grasp something, he would exclaim “Bloody hell, man!”, relight his pipe, and start again. I was soon given the title “Bell Master”—a little premature, perhaps, but it looked impressive on correspondence. Paul died suddenly in 1981, leaving me without his incomparable knowledge, guidance, and friendship.
After Paul’s passing, I began researching the history of the foundry: the origins of the tuning forks, the design of the furnaces, and the construction of the tuning shop. This meant delving into the “copy letter books”. Before carbon paper and typewriters, replies were written in special ink and copied overnight through a laborious system of tissue paper, damp blotting paper, and pressure. Paul allowed me to take a few of these fragile volumes home, and turning the pages carefully revealed a trove of information.
I discovered that once Taylor’s learned how to produce bells capable of perfect tuning, they needed a tuning shop adjacent to the works. True to form, the Taylor family’s impatience meant the building, along with its overhead crane and a 15-ton tuning machine, was designed, ordered, and completed within six months. The correspondence included several urgent letters—and even a telegram—chasing the delivery of the tuning machine and its dimensions.
The books also revealed the uncertainty surrounding “Great Paul”, cast for St Paul’s Cathedral in 1881. John William Taylor himself wrote letters attempting to discourage the commission, as such an enormous bell posed significant challenges, especially since it would be a “maiden” bell that couldn’t be tuned. It had to match the note of the existing 1878 Taylor ring of twelve. Despite the difficulties, the bell was successfully cast, housed in a newly manufactured case and core plate—and produced exactly the right note. A great relief all round.
I left Taylor’s in 1988 after ten rewarding years and kept all my research notes. Over the years, and later while living in Spain, I continued to gather material, returning to the foundry in 2015 and 2016 to complete further research with the idea of turning it into a book.
Publishing has changed enormously over time. Before the year 2000, producing a book was a demanding and uncertain undertaking. The advent of digital “print on demand” systems finally made it possible for authors to publish specialist or niche subjects without traditional barriers. With the layout and editing skills of my wife, Jane, I was able to assemble the manuscript and bring the project to life. The result was my book, first published in 2017 and updated in 2021—intended as an accessible and enjoyable read rather than a technical textbook.
By Mike Milsolm
This book can be purchased from The Loughborough Bellfoundry Trust Shop (Call 01509 638 500 or email info@belltrust.co.uk), or Amazon online.