A blind date piano makes it to El Cerrito in time for Valentine's Day

"Hammy" is my El Cerrito piano partner, short for Hamilton Baldwin grand, 1929. It's the subject of a multi-part series on piano maintenance, co-starring Mark Schecter, R.P.T. (Registered Piano Technician).

But before I post installments of its "regulation" that amounts to a piano care primer, I'll share the colorful details of how I selected it.

Drop-dead good looks was the lead in: scrolled legs, a florid rack, and a handsome sheen – the ingredients of a gripping soap opera.

FLASHBACK:

A "blind date" piano find its way to El Cerrito

"I met my beloved 5’2 Baldwin Hamilton on a Sunday afternoon before Valentine's Day.

I must admit that I interviewed the piano by phone and followed up with a long-distance tech evaluation. (The Craigslist visual was a heart-throbber.) And I loved vintage pianos made during the Golden Age of Piano building. OK so this one was at the cusp of the Great Depression. Still, it seduced me with its wire-transmitted resonance. (A land line was used.)

I received a "good" technician report, but the verdict was on hold until I ran my fingers over its keyboard. A fabulous look did not guarantee beneath the polished surface character. (Sound familiar?)

Frankly, the finish was low on my list of priorities. For others who demanded drop-dead exteriors, the preference might spell disaster, especially if the piano was nothing more than an eye-catching piece of furniture. (I’d been down that runway when close friends chose florid musical partners on fancy websites. A few of these beauties had fluted legs and scrolled desks, a.k.a racks.)

One buyer had a huge eye-opener when her mail-order bride arrived with a cracked harp (cast iron plate). Or maybe it was a budding crack, like a fault in California, weakened to earthquake proportion, ex post facto (after delivery).

In the “case” of a Proksch piano described in my writing “FUNERAL for a CRACKED PLATE,” the conspicuous rift in the Capo D’Astro (that supports the plate) killed any tonal attraction the buyer ever had to this piano through her scanty online relationship with it. (The piano was located in rural Georgia, a long car ride from her home in the Central Valley, though she eventually made the cross-country schlep for legal purposes. It was a year or so after the beauty turned out to be riddled with internal problems.)

The buyer lost her “case” in court, but the exotic seller eventually got slapped with a hefty fine by the Feds for smuggling ivory into the country. He figured the elephant tusks would entice interest in his “rebuilt?” Bosies (Bosendorfers) among other imported inventory.

Recently, I received the following comment from a technician who knew the shyster’s antics up close and personal:

“The Bosen-like pianos that he sells are furniture only. They don’t have modern actions and play poorly. He sells them on eBay for 10k after he buys them in Germany from people who acquired them for very little money. While they have decorative cases, the tone is horrible. You might say an American spinet sounds better." (Robert DeMaio Mpt EET)

Amen, to this fellow who had the courage to publicly post the Truth at my Word Press blog site. It was definitely a red flag for those captivated by a brand, without a necessary in-depth inspection of a piano’s interior by a capable technician.

***

Now given all the exposure I had to this particular seller who pitched a dubious description of the PROKSCH to a prospective long-distance buyer, I had promised myself never to rely on AT & T or anything resembling, to choose a piano. Yet circumstances required an imminent replacement of a teaching instrument (not mine) that was at death’s door, and the phone, being within easy reach, was a tantalizing option.

DETAILS:

The piano that piqued my interest sat in the seller’s living room in Arroyo Grande, California, on the Central Coast.

Of speculation: Who did the so-called “excellent” rebuild of an instrument dating to 1929? (I had acquired the serial number and matched it up in the Pierce Piano Atlas, the bible of piano-dating going back to the 19th Century.)

While a technician was selling it, he was NOT the original owner, and in any “case,” how could he be unbiased about a piano that embodied a profit by its sale.

(You can see why the upcoming "blind date" remained cloaked in suspense, not to mention FEAR.)

As far as I was told, the piano had a university-based history. Well, supposedly it bore a sticker with a Cal Poly inventory number.

An educated piano, perhaps? Tonal implications? Who maintained the piano?

The seller suggested that a fellow named “Richard Cummings” might have worked on it. Apparently, this regaled R.P.T. (Registered Piano Technician) was one of the elite piano masters of Arroyo Grande. And from what I learned, he had relocated to Missouri in his retirement years leaving behind a following of fine piano owners.

***

I knew up front and personal that losing a cherished technician could result in a major tragedy.

In 1989 my Steinway M, 1917 grand catapulted into crisis after a local tech “polished the knuckles,” and “filed the wippens.” He even “brightened” the treble, unauthorized, transforming my life partner into a virtual stranger.

The ordeal, well documented in more than one blog, reached the Piano Quarterly, in my published article “How Could this Happen to my Piano?!”

To spare readers all the gory details, suffice it to say, that the piano barely survived an onslaught by more than one tech in a parade of them. In fact, my dearly beloved nearly died before its miraculous Resurrection through the life-saving efforts of a Modesto-based SAVIOR.

(I prayed that my blind date Hamilton was not comparably assaulted before its supposed “rebuild.” For all I knew the “overhaul” could have amounted to applied varnish and hammer re-shaping.)

Piano Genealogy?

Through a bit of Google-driven research, I had found the canonized "Richard Cummings" with God-sent contact information.

In an e-mailed reply to my lengthy diatribe, he confessed openly that he never worked on my “newly” purchased piano, but had a fresh “lead” for me.

Perhaps an able tech named “Beverly” did the “work.”

So like a dog sniffing a bone buried deeply in the ground, I began my hunt for “Beverly” in “Arroyo Grande” and found an amiable woman speaking to me by phone about a piano she admitted was not one of her babies.

She mentioned “Forrester?” as a possibility in Oregon. It was sure to send me winding along a relentless trail. (Unfortunately, I’d lost the check stub where I'd scribbled his name.)

Back to start.

The plot thickened. A tech whom I had dispatched to review the Hamilton grand had a dubious connection to the seller, and I wasn’t sure about the quality of his work. He was definitely NOT mentioned by Cummings in his short list of numero uno techs. In fact the list amounted to ONE name – ”Beverly.”

The tuning landscape sounded all too familiar. In the Central Valley, I could count one GOOD tech on my pinky, and that number was shrinking into the negative zone….

***

Okay Enough speculation and hand-wringing about my blind date.

JUDGMENT DAY indeed came and the camera rolled capturing the drama of a budding love affair that could easily have turned into a nightmare.

I've attached pertinent videos.