Went to The General Society of Mechanics & Tradesmen tonight (their motto: “By Hammer and Hand All Arts Do Stand!”) to attend a lecture on the piano. A piano technician was supposed to take apart the Society’s Weber piano and compare it to a Steinway. This didn’t quite happen, but it was entertaining nonetheless, and I made the acquaintance of a few researchers who may help me in the quest that began when I found a piano on the street last spring. It is a 1927 Sohmer upright. Sohmer was a good reliable German-made line, beloved by Hoagy Carmichael, Al Jolson, Rudolph Valentino. When Irving Berlin wrote “I Love a Piano,” he wrote it on a Sohmer.

Two weeks after I found (and adopted) the piano, I learned by web-surfing (see how useful web-surfing is?) that the building (ten blocks from my apartment) which had housed the factory in which the piano was born had been declared a historic landmark. My neighborhood is lousy with retired tuners and piano builders; it’s Astoria, home of Steinway. A piano technician, ML, lives just down the street. I called him in to have a look at my Sohmer, daffily optimistic that I just needed a tuning, and was told that the extensive water damage on the soundboard would require $5,000 in repairs. Another $3,000 in cosmetic repairs would restore the creature to its former glory – it’s solid mahoghany, which someone at some point saw fit to cover with black paint.

Oh, but its action, oh, but its tone! I am in love and cannot let it go. And so it has sat in my living room since Groundhog’s Day, occasionally singing “Sheep May Safely Graze” when I ask it to, but refusing the “Moonlight Sonata.”

I had hoped, tonight, that the lecturing technician would cheerfully agree to come and take a look at the old girl, and heartily refute ML’s crazy estimate: “Water damage? What water damage? That green on the felt isn’t mold – it’s just green felt!” But alas. More daffy optimism. But when I mentioned ML to tonight’s piano technician, he all but genuflected. Apparently, I had had the rock star of piano rebuilders in my living room, drinking my coffee, giving me the bad news, petting my ill piano. “No point in my looking at it, if ML’s seen it.”

So what to do. Can’t let go, can’t afford repairs; piece of New York City history, instrument that cannot be duplicated if the same amount of money were spent to buy a new one. (“Maybe a Chinese piano,” spat ML, and this was before the toy recall.) Well, it was a miracle that I found the piano, that morning when I had just been wishing for one, so all I can do is wait for another one. Another miracle, or another piano.

Labels: Astoria, piano, piano technician, Sohmer

posted by Elizabeth at 9:47 PM