Crucian Super Saw A story by Richard A. Schrader Sr.

A story by Richard A. Schrader Sr.

The handsaw has quietly sat in many a household for years without a sound, without anyone realizing its ability to sing. It is far less expensive than a violin or cello, just a thin, flat piece of steel with teeth and handle. But like the song of the morning bird, it can gladden the hardest of hearts. The handsaw is mother to the Musical Saw.

My earliest recollection of the Musical Saw was at St. Patrick’s Church in Frederiksted about ten years ago. It was during a church service, and the gripping sound of a Musical Saw filled the sanctuary. I later learned that the Sawist was Irving Francis, a Crucian, visiting from New York. Since that time I have had the pleasure of listening to the warm vibes from Francis’ saw at least on two occasions. During the early part of 2009, I again had the opportunity of not only hearing him play but talking with him about his musical journey.

Francis is a tall man, a bit over six feet, with a ready smile. He has been living abroad since the mid ‘50s. One can tell, however, that St. Croix, his old home sweet home, is ever on his mind by his regular visits to the island, not only to renew family ties, but to share the sounds of his Musical Saw. Sitting in the park in Frederiksted, on Strand Street, across from the old hospital, his eyes lit up as he flashed his signature smile. “I was born right there in that hospital and grew up in this town,” he said. “There are so many memories.” 

Francis remembers the sounds of the town: the sound of the conch shell alerting the people that the fishermen were in with plenty of fish in the market; the sound of church bells calling the people to worship or announcing the hour of the day; the sound of Archie Thomas’ Rhythm Makers raining down sweet, sweet music on the town; the sound of Christmastime foreday marnin quelbe music from a fungi band filling the streets, and the sight and sound of Alec John, master of the sax, and Ivan “Wolf” McIntosh on his tuba or guitar and other members of the band dishing out hot, sweet music. And he remembers the smell of morning fresh hot bread coming from half a dozen or more brick ovens.

Francis’ first encounter with the Musical Saw was around 1938, while he was still quite young. “I was about five at the time,” he said. “And we were living on Prince Street across from the Golden’s store. One day I saw Uriah David demonstrating how to play the saw. It was all new to me. We always had a saw in the house, but I never knew that one could have made music from a plain carpenter’s tool such as the saw. This t’ing was sweet to my ears. It really sounded great. I was in awe, completely enthralled by the sound of this newly discovered instrument which seemed to be singing in a high pitched note.”

After that eye-opening experience, every time Frances got a chance he took up a saw, placed the handle between his knees, slightly bent the end back and forth with one hand while tapping gently with a piece of stick on the back of the saw with the other, but he could not get a tune. He tried it again and again without success. Then he thought of something. He had heard Uriah say that the saw could also be played like a violin. The little fellow remembered that there was a pasture in Foster, just south of town where he had seen some horses, and so armed with a pair of scissors, he went on a mission and cut a hand-ful of hair from a horse’s tail to use as a string for a bow. But that too failed to produce a tune, yet Francis didn’t give up.

“I kept on trying,” he said, “and when I was about eleven, BINGO! I got it. The rest is history.”

“ In Junior High School during manual training,” said Orin Arnold, a classmate of Francis, “Irving always had his hands on a saw playing music in the carpenter’s shop. Even later as a carpentry apprentice, with Mr. Armstrong and others, Francis couldn’t resist the urge to play a tune at lunch time or while on some other break. Some saws, depending on the quality of the steel, are more suited for music than others.” Then he added with his usual smile, “Mr. Ritter 

had a good saw, it made a great time.”

Francis left St. Croix for the army in 1952, but the musical saw didn’t leave him. Serving in Germany, military training took most of his time; nevertheless, he managed to get a saw and played a tune now and then. After leaving the military service Francis lived in New York and along with his employment in transportation found ample time to practice his art. He exchanged the carpenter’s saw for one especially designed for playing music. He made his first public appearance as a Sawist thirty-five years ago. “A lady who lived around the corner from me heard of my playing the saw,” he said. “She asked for a demonstration, was thrilled and invited me to play at her church the following Sunday. After that performance the invitations came from everywhere for me to play at christenings, parties and  weddings.”

Francis is a member of the International Music Saw Association, which puts on Musical Saw competition every year in California and the Musical Saw Festival every summer in New York City. 

“About forty players perform each year,” said Francis. “Among those is none other than David Weiss, one of the world’s foremost Musical Saw virtuosos. Everyone played a solo at the 2008 festival, mine was a Hawaiian song, ‘The Moon of Manakoora.’ I also played in a trio, which consisted of another famous Sawist, Natalia Paruz, also known as “The Saw Lady,” and Moses Josiah, a Guyanese living in New York, the only Black besides myself in the Association.

At the end of the program we all played one song together. Just imagine the sound of forty saws singing classical numbers such as ‘Till,’ ‘Misty,’ ‘Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,’ ‘Too Young for Love,’or ‘I’ll Weave a Lai of Stars For You.’ The year before I played ‘Unchained Melody.’ What a beautiful song!”

Although Francis derives great satisfaction playing his Musical Saw at various venues on the U.S. mainland, for him there is no greater joy than performing on his own native soil, St. Croix. “It gives me immense joy when people come up to me after playing at church or other events and say ‘Thank you…thank you, we liked it, you must come back.” 

Playing the musical saw appears to be a dying tradition. According to Francis, our Crucian artist, there are less than two thousand Sawists left worldwide. But it’s great to know that there is a native son to keep the Musical Saw alive.

Transcribed by M.A. Dworkin from St. Croix Times with permission granted by  Richard A. Schrader, Sr. from his book “Teach A Man To Fish.”