In the late spring of 1980, I happened to be visiting a local teaching studio in Bethesda, MD. I had an informal contract to repair and maintain their teaching instruments and had recently finished an exact copy of a 1954 Hermann Hauser classical guitar, which I had brought with me for the purposes of impressing my clients and possibly finding a buyer. To my surprise, the studio’s manager, after declaring that my instrument was one of the best Hauser copies he had ever seen, suggested that I show my new treasure to Bill Weaver, the violin man who had recently moved in next door to the Ellsworth Music Studios.

Well, the rest is history. I had, of course, visited the Violin House of Weaver in downtown DC many times, picking up wood and supplies and chatting with Joe Wallo, one of the Weaver shop repairman. My experience with the very esoteric and mysterious world of violin making at the Weaver’s shop was always imbued with the atmosphere of a very sophisticated and elite clientele who, it seemed, had just walked straight from the most famous concert stages in the world into the front room of that shop.

Bill Weaver’s new shop in Bethesda was an entirely different experience. The young man who came out from around the counter to meet me and examine my instrument was a bustling, jovial fellow with the goodhearted gleam in his eye that belied his lifetime of heard-earned expertise and cool and appraising respect for the work of another craftsman. Within a few minutes, Bill had deftly admired the finer details of my instrument and explored it’s resonance and projection, all the while making small talk and mentally taking stock of the greenhorn luthier standing before him. He was completely disarming and sincere, far from the mystification and grandiose posturing that accompanies so many of his stature.

Bill put me to work helping to rebuild old instruments and also loving the everyday adventure of discerning the needs of performers, teachers, and their students. Without any fanfare or pretension, Bill made the customers coming through his shop feel like the most important people in the world. For the few minutes that he spent listening to their concerns, they would come away knowing that Bill would take their needs, no matter how trivial they might seem, and make them his foremost concern.

When he was done with their instrument, his habit would be to personally reassure them that all was well and their performance would be flawless because their instrument could not be better. Bill Weaver established a lifelong pattern for me emulate. Showing the most distinguished concert artists and the fresh-faced beginners the same deference and respect without bias, has been my trademark character for my entire career, but I learned it first from Bill.

As the business grew, Bill’s affection for taking distressed old instruments and “bringing them back to life” became his complete vocation. The Doetsch line of violins was started as a reaction to a lack of availability of older instruments to supply the needs of our growing customer base. There simply weren’t enough quality older instruments for us to rebuild so we turned to a premier German shop to supply us with partially-complete student instruments. The final graduations done, and his signature bass bar installed, Bill would go into his shop and varnish instruments without talking to anyone for hours until his masterpieces were complete. Like all great works of art, no two were identical either in sound or appearance. Each violin, viola, cello and bass had it’s own personality and special character that would appeal to just the right customer. This process still takes place today and as I start each day picking through the latest batch of newly-finished instruments for my store, I marvel at the beauty and variety that my old friend brings into the world. Bill Weaver still makes the best and you know what’s even better? I get to pick the very best of the best for my customers - straight off the Master’s bench!

L.Dalton Potter, President
The Potter Violin Company