Remembering Charles Beare

The British luthier turned violin expert, whose influence on the world of stringed instruments is difficult to overstate, passed away in April at the age of 87.

By Scott Flavin | From the September/October 2025 issue of Strings

Imagine being one of the most important figures in the world of stringed instruments, your opinion sought worldwide on the origin and value of ancient instruments, your word (and the stroke of a pen) determining, potentially, millions of dollars of value? Such was the influence of Charles Beare (1937–2025), who passed away this April at the age of 87.


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Charles Theodore Sydney Beare first studied violin making at his father’s firm, J & A Beare Violins Ltd, in London. He further pursued those studies in Mittenwald, Germany. In 1960, he moved to New York City to intern for the legendary Rembert Wurlitzer, whose shop handled top-level stringed instruments. Here he was able to study firsthand the finest examples of classic Italian violin making as he worked with and befriended colleagues such as Dario D’Attili, maker and respected expert, and Simone Sacconi, maker and restorer.

Upon returning to the family firm in the UK as director of J & A Beare Ltd, later Beare Violins Ltd, he cared for the instruments of marquee classical string musicians like Itzhak Perlman, Jacqueline du Pré, Yo-Yo Ma, Yehudi Menuhin, Mstislav Rostropovich, and James Ehnes. His influence was felt worldwide in raising the standards of instrument authentication. Throughout the late 19th and early 20th centuries, even notable dealers had at times been less than scholarly in their attributions of instrument makers; as a result, many instruments were not what their certificates said they were, making them worth a fraction of their assumed value. Conversely, Beare also discovered some instruments were more valuable than previously assumed (much to their owners’ delight).


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Charles Beare signed over 5,000 certificates in his career, based on a lifetime of tireless research and study. In 1987 (Cremona) and 2013 (Ashmolean Museum), he organized exhibits on the work of Antonio Stradivari, gathering together some of the finest instruments of that celebrated maker. He was made an honorary citizen of Stradivari’s hometown of Cremona, an honorary fellow of London’s Royal Academy of Music, and in 2004, he was made an officer of the order of the British Empire (OBE) for services to the music industry. He was also a president of the Entente Internationale des Maîtres Luthiers et Archetiers d’Art (International Association of Violin and Bow Makers), where he worked diligently to protect the integrity of the craft of violin making.

Perhaps Beare’s most famous international moment was authenticating the stolen 1713 “Gibson” Stradivari violin, which was recovered in 1987 after having been nicked from a Carnegie Hall dressing room in 1936 while Bronislaw Huberman was onstage. The instrument is currently played by Joshua Bell, who says that “Charles Beare, who ended up selling it to me many years later, was given the violin to restore . . . [He] spent nine months meticulously cleaning this violin.”

Christopher Reuning, of Reuning & Son Violins, says that, for him, “[Charles] was extremely generous, the best colleague, and I view him as my mentor. He wanted to take care of the client and look after the instruments in his care, and beyond. He was not necessarily humble, but confident—an old-fashioned violin dealer, protecting the integrity of the profession. It is rare to find someone like Charles; he protected his reputation and stood behind his word, and it’s notable that his employees tended to stay with him upwards of 40 to 50 years.”


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A focus of research throughout Beare’s life was on the work of great Venetian violin makers. While Beare was not able to see his work published, his text was all but completed. His sons, Peter and Freddie—the fifth generation to have taken up the family business, now based in Kent—are finishing the project with the support of colleagues, including Reuning and Carlo Chiesa.

Yo-Yo Ma counted among Beare’s close friends, with Ma serving as godfather to Beare’s second son and Beare as godfather to Ma’s son as well. According to friends and colleagues, Beare struck a fine balance between being a master of his craft while remaining a kind and supportive person. Violinist James Ehnes says, “I feel very lucky indeed that I had the chance to become close with Charles over the past dozen years or so. He was, of course, brilliant, but he was also so funny, so charming, and, perhaps above all, so very, very kind. He was incredibly supportive of musicians, particularly emerging talents, often anonymously, and his willingness to share knowledge was extraordinary. I always left my visits with him feeling like I had learned so much but also aware of how much more there was to know! He was truly one of a kind, and someone whose friendship I will always deeply cherish.”


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Stringed instrument expert and appraiser Philip J. Kass, says, “When I first decided to try my hand at historical research in London, I went to see him . . . He continued to encourage me, giving me my own bench in the workshop when I would come over to visit. He also taught me some very important lessons about the trade and expertise in general. He reinforced the ideas I was already learning regarding a critical analysis of anything I might see and provided more than ample opportunities to see and study instruments by unfamiliar makers . . . He always encouraged me to ask questions and never to assume that what I knew was always correct. 

“This was particularly important when it came to studying instruments carrying old traditional attributions based on past notions of authenticity. I recall one occasion where I was offering a violin whose attribution was based on one of those old traditional but mistaken notions, which he called out to both me and the client, but then he walked me through the process of analyzing it to understand the mistake that could have been made but now would not. Not everything can be named (attributed), which is the lesson I took away from it, and I’ve had frequent reminders of that ever since.”


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