Richard Jerome, at 86; was master flute maker, player

Like dresses fitted to the shape and size of Hollywood's star power on the red carpet, the instruments Richard W. Jerome and his colleagues at Verne Q. Powell Flutes Inc. made were tailored to the styles and tones that his clientele hoped to create.

Making the hole at the tip, or headjoint, of the flute so that it created just the right sound for each player required a level of attention to detail that few can achieve. But Mr. Jerome, known as Dick, quickly became a fixture in the flute-playing community, as both a silversmith and someone who spoke the lingo of musicians, having played in symphony orchestras off-and-on since age 17.

Mr. Jerome, who specialized in the part of the flute that meets the players' lips, died Feb. 27 at his home in East Thetford, Vt., of pneumonia. He was 86.

His wife, the former Nancy Cawley, said she was forewarned about Mr. Jerome, a fellow flutist, when she joined the Vermont Symphony Orchestra as a student at Middlebury College in the 1940s.

"I was told about this wonderful flutist - he always came up by bus. I took one look and said, 'Oooh!' and then I heard him play, and I said it again," she said.

The two were married a few years later and played in duets for more than a half-century.

As a youngster growing up in Montpelier, he was drawn to the flute in part because there were so few flute players around. He was matched up with a teacher who "was good enough to get him a reasonable start," his wife said.

And while he later carved a name for himself as a craftsman, his skill at playing allowed him to perform with the Boston Pops and various choral groups.

"It was an absolutely beautiful sound - it's not forced, it's not harsh and loud - it's just a gorgeous sound," his wife said. "He had excellent technique and could sight read like crazy."

When Mr. Jerome switched to making the instruments at Verne Q. Powell Flutes Inc., he was entrusted with creating one of the most important parts of the instrument - the one-third of it that included the lip plate and the embouchure hole, through which the players blow. Verne Q. Powell trained him - after he spent a brief time working for Powell's son Ed. The shop was in downtown Boston for a time, then moved to Arlington in the 1960s.

Mr. Jerome's workbench was neatly organized, his tools lined up in order and polishing cloths at the ready. He made most of his tools, using ornate materials and designs to create the handles.

"He had a superb eye for design, beauty, and symmetry," said his son, Ted of West Lebanon, N.H. "And he was of the right personality."

He had the patience to deal with the complicated process of forcing thousands of pounds of pressure through pieces of metal, soldering them just-so; and he was a natural for dealing with musicians who came in with very specific requests.

Alice Kogan Weinreb, a flutist with the National Symphony Orchestra, remembers the four-year wait that came with Powell flutes. She went into the shop as a first-year student at Brandeis University and received her flute the day before her senior recital.

"I was quaking in my boots," she recalled of her initial encounter with Mr. Jerome. "Here I was, a lowly freshman going into this hallowed place making beautiful instruments, and he treated me just as nicely as he would any professional."

Mr. Jerome learned her playing style, she said, as he did for all potential customers, and made the flute to fit her playing style and tone. Over the years, he also taught her some of the basics of etiquette for playing professionally: "To always look the conductor right in the eye, to be on time, and not to talk much during the rehearsals," she recalled.

"He had a rapport with them that was unusual," his wife said of his dealings with customers.

When presented with the challenge of helping flutists get that exact sound they hoped to achieve from their instrument, Mr. Jerome had a knack for working through trying situations, relatives said.

"He had a great sense of humor," said his daughter Kitty of Northampton. "I think some of it was putting people at ease and being able to talk with them, being able to hear their stories, joke with them, and lighten it up a little."

Mr. Jerome was made a partner in the business in 1961. In addition to turning gold and silver into flutes, and wood into piccolos, he worked in quality control and customer relations.

Mr. Jerome served in the Army Air Corps as a B-17 gunner during World War II and narrowly escaped death when he was shot down in Germany. The pilot landed in such a way that the crew survived, but like many of his generation, he did not talk about all that he endured.

Before enlisting, he had attended Vermont Junior College, then used the G.I. bill to attend Boston University, where he studied journalism.

He played with the Vermont Symphony Orchestra starting in 1939 and, after the war, continued playing with the group until he started his instrument-making career in 1952. He also taught privately and at the Vermont Conservatory of Music. Also, he played jazz saxophone on occasion.

The Jerome family lived in Woburn for just over a decade, and then in Newton from 1965 until 1980, when he and his wife moved to Vermont. He retired in 1984.

"I think he had a special gift with his hands," his daughter said. "To make beautiful things was really a joy to him."

In addition to his wife, daughter, and son, Mr. Jerome leaves another daughter, Jenny Menn of Medford; and three granddaughters.

No services will be held.