People often ask me about my background training in Music. I wouldn’t call myself a musician. I never learned to read music and couldn’t tell you how the circle of fifths works. When I was twelve years old I took seven weeks of guitar lessons. That’s it. I taught myself to play piano, violin, banjo, mandolin, harmonica and hand drums. I have a good sense of rhythm and pitch.

Everything changed in 1992 because of a construction accident I was in. Three surgeries and long hours of physical therapy couldn’t repair the broken middle finger on my left hand. It is now permanently bent and crooked and I am unable to close it into a fist. I gave up playing stringed instruments. The fingers I use for fretting don’t work properly anymore. 

This kind of accident would have been catastrophic for a professional musician. I thought it was pretty bad also, until I discovered how to make and play the seashell flute, twelve years later.

There are five pitch holes in a seashell flute. They follow the straight lengthwise axis line of the shell and are drilled through whorls 2, 3, 4, 6 and 8, counting from the shell’s opening (aperture) to it’s pointy end (apex). The reason I put the pitch holes where they are is simple: that’s where my finger tips naturally touch the shell. I had to leave a space between pitch holes 4 and 6 because of my broken middle finger.

As it turned out, the space between pitch holes 4 and 6 is absolutely necessary for the flute to release a proper diatonic scale of musical notes. A pitch hole through whorl 5 releases a sharp/flat note. Same for whorl 7. Any deviation from the pitch hole placement pattern results in a less than perfect scale of diatonic notes. That’s just the way it works.

I considered calling my business ‘Broken Finger Flutes’, to honor one of the deciding factors leading to the discovery of the diatonic scale of musical notes inside a seashell. Accidents can be catalysts for discoveries. What appears to be a tragedy one day may turn out to be a blessing the next. In my case, it took twelve years to find the blessing. And I wasn’t really looking.

Michael’s new family of seashell wind instruments continued to amaze and delight visitors at his farmer’s market vending booth in Florida and Massachusetts. That was the year, however, that the housing market collapsed and a world wide recession began. Both he and Dana struggled to grow their businesses in a rapidly shrinking economy. He wondered what he should do next.

An accident provided Michael with an opportunity he wasn’t expecting. His father fell down and broke his hip. Michael moved to Winter Park, Florida to care for him during his long recovery. While there he began to vend at a local farmer’s market in downtown Orlando. That’s where he found out about Rollins College and their Physic’s Department.

A music major at Rollins College told him that Rollins College Physics Department studies how acoustic musical instruments work and that he should ask them if they would study his new instruments. He made an appointment with the Dean of the department. They met several times and eventually his seashell flute was accepted as a research project.

The Dean told Michael that there are only a few college level physics departments in all of North America that have labs equipped to study how acoustic musical instruments work. Michael’s father just happened to live ten minutes away from one of the top physics labs in the country dedicated to doing this type of research.

Over the following year Michael met with the research team many times. They analyzed the sounds produced by the seashell flute and eventually submitted a research paper to the Journal of Sound and Vibration for publication. The research paper was rejected after peer review, because more research needed to be done to fully explain why the seashell flute works.

The conclusion of the research paper states: “we do not have a firm understanding of the air resonances of a pipe in the shape of a logarithmic spiral. Our data indicate that a simple model that works well for straight pipes, and pipes with few toroidal bends, does not accurately predict the impedance of a logarithmic spiral cavity with holes. This anomalous behavior will be the subject of future research.”

Five years later they still don’t know why it works. Perhaps someone reading this article may be able to explain it. The author will respond to any research inquiries.

Thank you for taking the time to read this story. Dana and Michael continue to be friends. She cares for her parents and their properties on Cape Cod. She also is a personal chef. He cares for his aging father in Florida and continues to vend his new family of seashell musical instruments at farmer’s markets. He has become a skilled ‘Shellist’. That’s one who plays seashells as musical instruments.

Happiness is being surrounded by good friends that share life’s ups and downs together. Having enough money to enjoy the ride doesn’t hurt either.

Michael began to feel an acute sense of dearth that fall. The summer cottage was closed for the winter. He and Dana moved off Cape, into her sister’s house, where he continued to create his new family of seashell musical instruments.

He desperately wanted to discover the economic value of his new products and decided that a test market would be just the thing. His first venue was the Delray Beach Farmer’s Market, open every Saturday morning, from late November through early May. The execution of his market research plan, however, left much to be desired.

His sister, Kate, had a spare bedroom in her Delray Beach condo, which she offered to let him use for the vending season. Dana felt hurt and confused by his abrupt decision to leave one cold December morning, while she was away from the house attending a business meeting. He left a letter for her to find when she returned to the empty house.

Her father found the letter first. He understood the passion, drive and risk-taking behavior required to start a new business. Her parents had owned several successful ones. He had made mistakes and poor judgements along the way, but he also had the love of his wife and life long partner, Dana’s mother, to sustain him.

He called Michael in Florida a few days later. They spoke in earnest. He told Michael that he considered him family and convinced him to return the following Spring. Dana and he eventually came to terms, during a trip she made to see him that winter. She forgave him.

But he didn’t forgive himself.

Dana and Michael left Provincetown and returned to the cottage, where he immediately began to experiment with his twelve new Screw Shells.

He bought a high speed rotary drill and split tip titanium drill bits used for drilling through ceramic tile. Without these modern tools he never would have continued his experiments. Shells are just too hard to drill holes through, using a conventional carpenter’s drill. (It must have taken indigenous peoples a long time to drill holes through shells, without the benefit of electric drills and metal drill bits.)

Michael drilled five small holes through the shell, under where his finger tips touched the shell (while using the acorn cap whistle technique to resonate the air inside the shell). His finger tip pads naturally touched whorls 2, 3, 4, 6 and 8, counting from the shell opening (aperture). He heard the musical notes Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti and Do when he uncovered the pitch holes, in sequence, beginning from the pointy end (apex). The notes didn’t sound perfect to him, at this point in the experiments, but they were close.

It wasn’t until he straightened out the line of pitch holes, following the lengthwise axis line of the shell, that the musical notes became perfect. Further experiments with pitch hole size released the chromatic musical notes. He then discovered how to play the second half-octave of notes. Incredibly, the shell released an octave and a half of perfect diatonic and chromatic musical notes, all without the use of mathematical measurements or calculations of any sort.

There is a relationship between the logarithmicspiral shape of the Screw Shell, the straight line of five pitch holes (in whorls 2, 3, 4, 6, and 8 that follow the shell’s lengthwise axis line) and the diatonic scale of notes. Approximately sixty five million years before Michael drilled the five pitch holes, the shell contained the latent ability to release, what is known today as, the Western scale of musical notes.

The first song Michael learned to play on his new seashell flute was ‘Amazing Grace’.   The second was ‘Take Me Out To The Ball Game’. And he wondered if other people would be able to play this new musical instrument.

The Shell Shop in Provincetown, MA had just what Michael was looking for: Great Screw Shells at reasonable prices. He bought a dozen. Dana liked this shop much more than the one in Florida. It smelled good, was well lit and breezy.

Provincetown is a thickly settled, historic, maritime community bordering Provincetown Harbor. It hosts a large population of Portuguese fishing families that have lived and worked there for many generations. It was also once home to a bohemian chef, named Howard Mitchum, who wrote the ‘Provincetown Seafood Cookbook’. Dana wanted to find out more about him from the locals, for an article she was writing about him.

They spoke with the owner of a small book store that carried a few of his books. He told Dana that the deaf/mute cook had been quite the character in Provincetown and that the staff at his favorite drinking establishment, ‘Ye Old Colony’, might be able to provide her with more information.

The letter ‘Y’ had fallen off the word ‘Colony’ over the entrance way into the old and decrepit pub. An empty row of hard stools hugged the bar. They ordered two beers from the bartender and asked if she had known Howard Mitchum.

The bartender said she had worked there for over fifteen years and was well acquainted with Howard, before he passed away, ten years ago. She proudly pointed to the window booth he held nightly court at and plied them with colorful stories. The most controversial one concerned his well attended memorial party, which was held at the pub shortly after his death.

She confided, or perhaps confessed, that Howard’s daughter and she had carried out his final wish that day: they mixed his cremated ashes into the large bowl of French Onion dip, set out on the tabletop of his favorite booth, for all of his guests to enjoy.

Was Howard Mitchum’s last act on earth artistic licence, sheer devilry or a contrivance?      I don’t know. If it was true, he must have felt it was a fitting end for a chef to be consumed by his dearest friends. In life, he enjoyed creating new and exotic dishes. Why not also after death?

Spring is a time for new beginnings. Dana wanted to start a catering business that year so she and Michael moved into her family’s summer cottage on Cape Cod.

He worked for Dana’s parents, repairing and improving the cottage, cottage grounds and adjacent undeveloped properties her family owned since the1950′s. Dana began working with a woman who needed help cooking and preparing all the meals for an established Cape Cod caterer. It seemed like a sensible way to get catering experience, before launching her own business.

Michael sound tested the shells he purchased at Tom’s Shell Shack in his spare time. Great Horned Owls answered the hooting sounds he made with the Muffin Shell. Loons cried back to the sounds of the Turban Shell. Ospreys listened attentively to the small clam shell whistles and Mourning Doves flew toward the sounds he made using the Great Screw Shell.

The song of the Mourning Dove has been described as plaintive. I suppose that’s because 20 million or so are shot and killed each year by hunters, just in the United States alone. But the State of Massachusetts protected the bird in 1902, and they were (and still are) plentiful on Cape Cod. This was fortunate. Michael chose the Screw Shell to experiment with first because there was always a Mourning Dove around, willing to answer his calls.

He reasoned that the Screw Shell ought to behave like a flute, if a pitch hole could be drilled through the shell. He wanted to imitate the simple two note song of the Mourning Dove, so he used an old electric carpenters drill to drill one small pitch hole through the shell. It took a long time, but it worked. The pitch changed and he was better able to imitate the song of the Mourning Dove.

But he had only purchased one Screw Shell while in Florida. He needed more to continue his experiments. He drove to Provincetown and entered the only shell shop on the Cape.

They drove a crooked road on their way back to Massachusetts and their new life together. Most of Michael’s family had moved to Florida years ago and were spread out across the state. They stopped in Orlando to visit with his elderly father and two of his sisters before turning north to visit Dana’s relatives.

Dana’s Aunt Mary lived in St. Augustine, Florida, the oldest continuously settled (by Europeans) city in the United States. She was one of Dana’s many aunts, on her mother’s side of the Dunbar family. Mary was expecting them. She was almost ninety years old and still played golf with her friends every week.

Michael valued close family relationships and enjoyed getting to know Dana’s Aunt Mary. His Great Aunt Mary, whom he loved very much as a child, was like a grandmother to him. While the two women visited he repaired a leak in the refrigerator and fixed a few other things around her home.

Dana and Michael explored St. Augustine after saying goodbye to Aunt Mary. Tom’s Shell Shack, on A1A, immediately attracted his attention. Giant clam shells, bleached shark jaws, varnished puffed up blow fish hanging from the rafters and weathered pallets laden with conch shells littered the entrance way into the slightly fishy smelling interior.

The bespectacled store owner, Tom,  greeted them with a nod from behind the check out counter and resumed working at his computer. Natural light filtered through the long and dusty store front picture windows. Row after row of shells and nautical bric-a-brac filled the shop from floor to ceiling.

Michael wondered if he should ask Tom for permission to sound test shells, but decided not to. He asked Dana to shield him from the anti-theft cameras, as he discretely discovered which shells made the best sounds. They found a dozen shells that met with his approval. He paid Tom for the shells and they happily left the shop, for completely different reasons, I’m sure, and headed north to New England, and Spring.

Dana and Michael got up early each morning during the Baton Rouge Currach Building Project. But this day was different. It was the morning after the project. Instead of the familiar sights and sounds of the boat building workshop, the two barefoot explorers walked out of the hotel and onto the soft white sands of Perdido Key to greet the new day.

The sky was just beginning to turn pink when Dana announced she was going to meditate. Michael had learned to accommodate her sudden meditative urges, but this morning he felt annoyed. He wanted to explore the beach and watch the sun come up with her. She wanted to sit on the sand, with her eyes closed and meditate. And that’s exactly what she did.

Michael walked along the shoreline feeling forlorn. He looked back at Dana as the first rays of sunlight revealed two bottle-nose dolphins swimming inside a clear green breaker, right in front of her. He yelled at her to open her eyes, but the breeze blew his shouts away.

The two dolphins either heard his shouts or saw him jumping and waving his arms. The next moment they were right in front of him. He reached down, picked up a small clam shell, held it between his thumbs the way Jonathan had taught him to do with an acorn cap, and sent an extremely loud, high-pitched whistle out to the dolphins. To his surprise and delight, they whistled back.

After a minute or so the two dolphins swam away. Michael, however, continued to whistle with different clam shells he found on the beach. Maybe the dolphins would return? As he scanned the surf he began to wonder what other types of shells the skill would work with, and what other kinds of animals might respond to their sounds.

Dana stood up and waved at him. He ran to her, like a kid with a new toy, and yelled “Listen to this!” He made an ear ringing whistle sound with a small clam shell. Dana winced and covered her ears with her hands. She tried to make a whistle sound with the clam shell, but couldn’t get it to work. Then it was time for breakfast.

Michael thought a lot about the two dolphins that appeared in front of Dana that morning. He knew that dolphin sensibilities are different than humans. If the dolphins hadn’t appeared, he never would have picked up a small clam shell and discovered it can be used as a whistle. All of his future discoveries, concerning the relationships between seashell spirals and Music, began with this one event. And he never got angry with Dana again, whenever she needed or wanted to meditate.

The Celtic Society of Louisiana threw a mighty party for the members of the Baton Rouge Currach Building Project. It began New Year’s Day and ended St. Patrick’s Day night.

Project members included Pat, a master boat builder from Ireland (yellow shirt); Mike, his assistant, who was also from Ireland (white shirt); Dana, project videographer and photographer; Michael, Pat and Mike’s apprentice and project scribe (brown checkered shirt) and all the members of the Celtic Society of Louisiana, who gave stellar meaning to the phrase “Southern Hospitality”.

Whirlwinds of Celtic Society activities surrounded the builders 24/7 such as: Mardis Gras preparations and events; daily culinary extravaganzas showcasing the finest in Louisiana cuisine; weekly bag pipe lessons; athletic demonstrations; charity events; band practice; Gaelic language classes; poker games and Irish Wolf Hound training sessions.

The ‘boys’, as Pat and Mike were affectionately called by Celtic Society members, built five, 23′ long, three seat racing currachs and four, 25′ long, four seat racing naomhogs, following strict North American Currach Association (NACA) guidelines. The boats were to be used in NACA races by their new owners upon completion.

A seemingly endless parade of visitors offered heartfelt support and encouragement to the team of builders, as they handily transformed tons of raw materials into nine elegant and graceful Irish racing canoes. They worked from seven in the morning until ten or eleven each night, for seventy five consecutive days. In addition to building the boats, they also made 71 oars. Each craft carries an extra oar, in case one breaks during a race.

By the end of the project the team was exhausted. Michael bought Dana a five dollar raffle ticket at the St. Patrick’s Day farewell party for Pat and Mike. She won the grand prize: a four night-three day vacation for two at a five star resort on Perdido Key, Florida. The next morning, amid tears of thanks and gratitude for a once-in-a-lifetime experience, the team disbanded. Pat and Mike flew home to Ireland. Dana and Michael drove to Florida and checked into the seaside resort for a well deserved rest.

Michael’s job ended abruptly within a week after returning to Pennsylvania. He telephoned Mike in Massachusetts. Mike gave him Johnny’s number after a short conversation about his quest to find a boat builder willing to teach him how to build a traditional Irish canoe.

Johnny said he was too old to build currachs anymore. However, Johnny knew an Irishman in New Orleans that was organizing a currach building project scheduled to begin in early January, or in about three months. He gave Michael Danny’s number and wished him luck.

Danny was a very busy person. He owned a pub in the French Quarter of New Orleans, had numerous side businesses and performed regularly as a musician in venues throughout the South and other parts of the world. He was bringing one of Ireland’s top master boat builder to New Orleans to build a fleet of authentic Irish racing canoes.

Michael left many messages on Danny’s answering machine. They played phone tag as time ticked away. Near the end of October Michael decided to take matters into his own hands. He drove to New Orleans and sat in Danny’s pub for two days until Danny walked up to him and said in an Irish brogue, “Hi. I’m Danny O’Flaherty. Please come with me to my office. We can talk there in private.”

By the end of their hour long conversation Danny telephoned Pat in Ireland. They spoke together in Gaelic. Danny asked Pat if Michael could be his assistant to help speed the project along. They anticipated the project would take approximately two months to build nine traditional Irish racing canoes. Pat agreed. He would need all the help he could get.

Danny asked Michael if he would kindly make a documentary movie of the project and write a currach building manual, in return for the privilege of learning the ancient craft. He explained that the tradition of currach building was in danger of being lost in Ireland. Modern boaters wanted faster vehicles, made in factories, out of fiberglass, epoxy and metal.

He gladly agreed to the conditions. Danny told him the project would begin January 3rd, in Baton Rouge, at the headquarters of the Celtic Society of Louisiana. He gave Michael contact numbers and said he’d call Steve, the Society’s president, and let him know to expect him. Michael was prepared to live in a tent for two months, if necessary.

Michael knew how to sketch, write and use basic carpentry tools. He also knew that Dana was a skilled photographer and wanted to be a videographer. He didn’t know if she would be able to join him on this adventure, but he hoped so. He called her that evening.