The String Family

More wonders burst from nearly every inch of the store, a three-story emporium that combines showrooms for string instruments, a full-service repair shop, accessories like bows and metronomes, a vast library of sheet music, a recital space, studios for music teachers, and a rental program that helps parents afford a child’s nascent interest. From the efforts of Aaron’s father, Don, to salvage an Albuquerque Public Schools orchestra program, Robertson & Sons now claims an international customer base along with grace notes of hometown love.

The Albuquerque Youth Symphony occasionally holds concerto competitions in the store’s recital hall. “Talking with kids in the warm-up room, they reminisce about getting their first instrument, and it’s almost always from there,” says Dan Whisler, the group’s director and conductor. “If Robertson’s, for whatever reason, didn’t exist, it would have a tremendous negative impact on what we do at Albuquerque Youth Symphony, but also on the local string community.”

The place’s origin story has roots in Don Robertson’s childhood, when the young musician broke the neck off his cello. “I got whooped for that,” he says. “The next time it happened, I fixed it myself.”

His interest in music survived as well. By 1971, Don was working as an itinerant teacher in a handful of Albuquerque public schools, running their orchestra programs. “The instruments were in such poor repair, he didn’t have a choice in deciding to repair them,” Aaron says. “He took them home so the orchestra program would survive.”

Working out of his North Valley garage, Don sharpened his skills, which soared after he trained with top-of-the-line restorers at New York’s Hofstra University in 1975. Pretty soon, neighbors complained about him running a home-based business.

Don moved his business to a shopping center at Monte Vista Boulevard and Dartmouth Drive, in the Nob Hill neighborhood. When the pharmacy next door closed, he expanded into that space. And then into a space left by a bicycle shop. Still, instruments piled up.

Today’s 24,000-square-foot building—specifically designed with discrete spaces, climate controls, and an open architectural plan—opened on a formerly empty lot south of Comanche Boulevard in 1997. “We thought, Gosh, this is such a large space, we’re never going to fill it,” says Justin Robertson, Aaron’s brother and a restorer who oversees the repair shop. “We’ve expanded it several times since then.”

The clientele ranges from two-year-olds, whose parents rent pint-size instruments, to Zuill Bailey, an El Paso–based cellist who performs internationally. “He plays a really old Italian cello, maybe 1690,” Justin says. “It’s very exciting and tricky to be able to work on these instruments, to be very conservative with the things we do—nothing that can’t be undone.”

“You’re touching a piece of history,” adds Aaron, who has taken over managing the business as Don enjoys a retirement full of golfing and fishing. (A third brother, Bryan, was a bow specialist in the repair shop until retiring in 2023.)

“If these instruments are properly worked on,” Justin says, “they’re going to outlive us.”

Classical music pours from speakers inside the repair shop, tucked behind a glass wall in the lobby’s sales area. Add in the sounds of sanding and string plucking, and a meditative spell envelops the sometimes tedious work of saving cracked bodies, broken necks, and nicked edges.

Justin pulls part of a violin from its hook at his station. He had deconstructed it for a full restoration and clamped the front piece across its breadth to seal up a top-to-bottom crack. It doesn’t look nearly as beautiful as the hundreds of violins arrayed in a showroom one floor above.

“But it’s very important to its owner, so we’re going to go the whole way,” Justin says. “Whether we’re working on a student-level instrument or a fine instrument, the quality of our work is the same.”

That goes for mariachi violins, country fiddles, and the 1687 “Figueroa” Stradivari in the basement vault. (The Strad is for sale, and most mortals can’t comprehend the price tag.) Enthusiasm wanes, however, when it comes to internet-sourced instruments purchased by parents who want to save a buck until their child proves they’ll stick with it.

Sometimes made of plywood instead of the standard spruce and maple, the bargains can include a flatter neck, making it difficult to hit just one string, and bridge angles that turn a note into a buzzing noise. Repairs often cost more than the instrument’s value.

Still, a good start-up instrument can cost $3,000, and parents rightly balk at the expense. Early in the shop’s history, Don and his wife, Marie, began a rental program that, at just $15 a month, only makes money when the child commits to the craft and keeps coming back. Children trade up to larger instruments, and the rentals desk holds love notes to the ones they relinquished, along with pleas to their future players.

“You are the best violin I could ever have,” reads one from Shira, age nine. “I am very sad to let you go. We played so many pieces together … I will never forget you.”

“This used to be my cello,” wrote Arga, age six. “But now it is yours. I gave it lots of love, so can you please give it lots of love too?”

Last fall, a Robertson & Sons–produced violin achieved out-of-this-world notice when it became the first violin played in space. As part of a SpaceX flight testing a new communications system, astronaut and violinist Sarah Gillis synched her playing with a land-based performance by the John Williams Orchestra that was beamed to children all over the world.

Three prototypes failed the high-heat testing phase. The winner, made by luthier Christian Pedersen, included a quarter-length bow and a compact case to save room. “When we saw the video, we were just blown away,” says Barbara Barber, who works in the sales division.

That quality speaks to what Aaron considers a renaissance among luthiers, both locally and globally. “The instruments being made today are better than they ever have been,” he says.

He should know. With an estimated 4,000 instruments under the Robertson roof, Aaron has his pick of what to, well, fiddle around with. “There’s nothing like holding a Strad in your hands,” he says. “In some cases, it’s a feeling that you don’t want to put it down—the power, the response, the color.”

But even well-made modern instruments can have a lifelong impact.

“I talk to clients who had Dad as a teacher,” Aaron says. “They say they were lost souls if they didn’t have that orchestra class. They wouldn’t be here today. They talk about it with tears in their eyes.”

Read more: Al Hurricane Jr. continues a tradition that moves our feet—and our souls.

Kate Nelson believes years of piano lessons and choir practice helped her survive teenhood and made her a better writer.