Floods, concerts & more...

Despite the flood in the cottage that has severely compromised Zelda's action, there's been a lot of positive energy related to Keys Tuning of late.

But first, let's dispense with the flood.

I was hurrying to squeeze in an additional appointment two Saturdays ago to meet with Mrs. Ford before tuning a gorgeous grand a few blocks away. The meeting was to discuss rebuilding her 1919 upright -- amazingly, still under consideration despite my assessment of the piano's condition and its potential value; that is, it would cost more to repair it than it'll ever be worth from a financial standpoint. There had been, apparently, a family conference to discuss the matter. The practical son had weighed in on the financial merits and the daughter who grew up learning to play on the instrument in its better days still saw value in its repair. After my meeting, it's likely the piano will not be returned to its former glory; but we left the matter open. Sentiment is yet a strong motivator.

In my rush to get there I unknowingly left a trickle of water running where I'd washed out Ranger's bowl and I left the bowl in the basin. The combination of the two -- small continuous flow and drain blocked by bowl -- resulted in approximately two inches of water throughout the cottage when I returned four hours later. Zelda just hasn't been the same since.

The surge of humidity at her feet swelled all the felts; most noticeably none of the damper felts seat properly anymore. Every note rings for three to four seconds after it has been played -- making for an unbearable cacophony. After about two weeks they are drying out a bit -- the ring has reduced from several seconds to just a second -- arghh -- so for the moment, the old girl is only good for plunking out the melodies I'm rehearsing for my next concert. And, of course, now I've another skill set I'll need to add to my list of things to learn -- repairing dampers.

I'm keeping up with tuning pianos -- several really nice grands lately; but more importantly, a lowly spinet, not tuned in over eight years, taught me something really important.

The spinet was miserably out of tune. In the treble it was a full pitch flat and most of the bass and tenor was at least a semi tone flat. I had to do a pitch raise to get it close before tuning it and was quietly cursing myself as the tuning was one I'd donated for a charity auction. My normal first-time 3 hour tuning quickly became five and half hours. Still, when I was done -- besides the obvious relief on the part of the family that I would soon leave -- there was a moment.

Mom played the piano for a moment, smiled broadly. But before she could say 'thanks', her 10 year old daughter ran over, hugged her knees and laughed "Oh, mommy, when we sing, it won't sound like a funeral anymore!" It was the best thank you I could ever have expected.

Every piano -- grand or spinet, great condition or poor -- deserves to be the best it can be.

Having said that, I admit to looking forward to my assignments this coming week -- a 9' Boesendorfer concert grand and a 7' Steinway grand.

After the next week of holiday related tunings, I'm hoping to hunker down to the books and start working on Yuri again. The goal now is to pass my exams at the Piano Technicians Guild annual conference in July 2011.

Changing, re-arranging

I've been looking for a space to have a piano repair workshop here in Key West. Despite the fact that much (as in the rest of the country) retail space is empty and has been for a while, landlords aren't budging any on rents. An attorney friend explained that if they start reducing rents for commercial properties then it reduces the appraised value of their property so most tend to be intractable on the rent issue. Still, it seems to me a reduced value and some money in your pocket makes more sense than an empty, deteriorating space. But then I'm not a landlord.

The cottage is already filled with Zelda & Yuri. The two grands and their component parts arranged in different spots take up about half of the available space in the cottage. Not to mention that in order to have enough room to make breakfast and/or sleep at night I need to put away whatever I'm working on plus all the tools. Ranger's been a little cramped for space as well -- he's been having to share his favorite table with Yuri. It's a bit of a Catch 22 -- there's (barely) enough room to work on the two instruments and not enough room to take on paid assignments.

This issue came to a head yesterday.

A vivacious, elderly lady called me a few days ago to look at her piano, as it turns out a 1919 Stultz & Co. old upright. When she called she said, "nothing works, and I'd like to have it fixed." And, when I looked at it yesterday she was right -- nothing works. Thirty keys are compromised for one reason or another, the tuning pins & strings are corroded, the hammers are actually concave from years of playing, it's horribly out of tune, and the list could go on. The case is in relatively good shape, as are the harp, pinblock, sound board and bridges. So, essentially you have a decent frame upon which to put a new instrument -- not much more. To fix it would cost more than the instrument will ever be worth.

I explained this to Mrs. Ford and asked "why do you want this piano repaired?" Her reply was "it just needs to be right. Besides my daughter comes once or twice a year, and she plays." I guess my look must have been a little more than incredulous as she chuckled, "look I'm 87. I've got some money and I'd just like to have it working. So just tell me how much it'll cost to put it back together."

Then it struck me 'this is another gift'. The money is irrelevant to her, it's about leaving a legacy of beauty for her children. So, I'm going to put together a very, very fairly priced proposal for her, then see if she wishes to go forward.

If she does, it would mean some signficant start-up income for me, not to mention it would give me the opportunity to thoroughly rework an old upright in addition to the two grands. There are enough diferences between a grand & an upright to make it another important part of my learning curve. But, it did bring to a head the space issue. As it stands currently, I don't have room in the cottage and so far I haven't found a reasonable place to rent where I could create a workshop.

Usually when obstacles like this come up the universe is telling you something. So after I left her yesterday, I went to a friend's house to restring a missing bass string. I explained to Sheri about the lady's insistence on fixing the piano; but that it didn't matter as I wouldn't be able to take the job for lack of space. She just looked at me and said "Mrs. Ford deserves to have a beautiful instrument in her life. You'll find a way."

When I came back to the cottage I started looking at the space differently, then started re-arranging everything. Tools came up front where I could get at them more easily. My landlady's son came by. We talked about  moving out some of the furniture when he comes back in December, which would leave me room for a work bench. For now, the universe is telling me 'make do with the resources you have and build the business on a more solid financial foundation.' By simply removing furniture he can use at one of their other properties, I can make room for the business here and still have a comfortable place to live. For now, it's enough. I just needed to see the space differently.

On a totally different topic, there has been a lot happening with two other aspects of the developing business in the last couple of weeks.

Yuri's keys are now all functional and, with one exception, perfectly balanced. Even the A#86 that was eaten through with termites (fortunately they focused primarily on the key frame and munched their way through only one of the keys) has been repaired. Next steps are to start removing the old corroded tuning pins and piano wires. I've been repairing some other instruments so I have some practical experience with restringing now. I'm devouring the 'bible' on restringing -- Travis' A Guide to Restringing so am at the point where I think I'm ready to take on Yuri's total restringing job.

On the tuning front, I've been slowly taking on more clients. Still trying to limit myself somewhat until I get myself more organized. The latest was a preconcert tuning for a professional ensemble. Though my aural tunings have been (with one exception) very good, I couldn't take a chance on blowing the tuning for a concert. So I drained my last savings and bought a Sanderson Accu-Tuner IV (SAT IV) which arrived several days in advance of the concert tuning. I love it!!!

Unlike most machines which simply provide pitch verification on a particular note, the SAT IV is designed to hear the harmonics throughout the instrument so that when you're setting the temperament, it's hearing how in tune the piano is with itself as well as conventional pitch. It then makes the subtle adjustments of a few cents in either direction to account for the inharmonicity of the particular instrument. As a consequence, it's helping me to speed up my tuning time as I'm now not spending an hour running tests on my aural work. That alone is worth the money; but also -- as a confidence builder -- it's confirmed with the pianos I've done previously that my aural work was accurate. Whew!!! Maybe there really is a career here after all.

The next picture has nothing to do with anything except Ranger hates storms. And we've been having quite a few lately. This is where I've been finding him -- if I can find him at all. I really don't know how such a large cat can make himself small enough to fit into this space.



Sixteen keys, and what do you get?

After another few hours last night I managed to polish Yuri's capstans down through F57. Another sixteen keys and only 56 more to go! The corrosion on the top creates extra friction making the keys less responsive to the pianist's touch. So, technically there's no reason to polish anything more than the top of the capstan since it's the only part that touches the action, But there's something aesthetically pleasing to me to see the brass gleaming against the deep wood tones of Yuri's hundred year old keys.

Looking at my efforts from a purely functional viewpoint, it's a waste of time to polish the entire capstan. In fact, once the keys and action are reinstalled, the next person who sees them (probably corroded once again) will be a piano technician 20 years from now called in to make the next set of repairs on Yuri. Yet, there's a part of me that believes Yuri's touch and tone will be that much sweeter because of the extra care I'm giving him now. Irrational, I know; but this is a labor of love after all.

Finishing up the capstan polishing project will probably take the rest of this evening after work and most of tomorrow. If there's time left I'll rebuild the one key destroyed by termites A#86; then move on to cleaning the keytops. I'm hopeful the job done in 1948, which replaced the keytops, will have stood the test of time and I won't have to replace them this time around. It looks as if it was an excellent job; but with all the dirt of the last few years of neglect, I won't know until they are cleaned and polished. That will be another week's labor of love; but at least one more visible.

In the meantime, I keep getting requests for tunings. One, especially has me scared nearly witless. 

 

About 3 weeks ago I tuned a friend's 7' Steinway and his mother's 7' Yamaha, both amazing instruments, and both in need of tuning. He's a professional singer with a very exacting ear. He said he'd tried dozens of tuners over the years and these were among the best tunings he'd ever had. Stroke, stroke. Well, he got it into his head to call the artistic director for Seraphic Fire, which is doing the premiere of their next world tour as a benefit in Marathon on November 3rd at Saint Pablo's. He arranged for me to do two concert tunings, one two days before the concert, the other the day of the concert. We're talking world class musicians here! I should have said 'no' but didn't.

 

Then last Saturday I had my first less-than-adequate tuning for another professional musician (also with an exacting ear), the pianist at Old Stone and the Keys Chorale's new accompanist. When I left Saturday, he played for a half-hour and declared his 6' Yamaha wonderful. Then I saw him at chorale on Tuesday and there was -- well, a look -- that said something was amiss. I asked how the tuning was holding and he went on at length before the rehearsal started about how it wasn't! Obviously, I couldn't sleep that night. And went over on Thursday to see what I'd done wrong.

 

He was, in fact, correct. About six or seven notes hadn't held and some unisons had decayed. I don't know if it was the weather (torrential downpours from hurricane Paula's bands) or something I'd done; but I decided to give him his money back. Normally, I would have offered to redo it on the spot; but he has a friend who's been tuning for Steinway for 30 years visiting for the weekend -- better to let him correct the situation and part, hopefully, good company.

 

The point of all this is to say, his accurate assessment of my work was important feedback to get -- especially before the Seraphic Fire concert. Up until now, the tunings have been pretty great. But for whatever reason, it didn't hold. It was a wake up call to remind me that I'm still a beginner and need to keep working on the craft. On the other hand, if I mess up the Petrof grand at St. Pablo's I might as well move to the Australian bush before I get another tuning job in the Keys. It'll either make or break my reputation. No pressure -- it's just a career!

 

So, this week I cashed in my remaining savings, asked for vacation pay instead of taking time off this year and purchased a Sanderson Accu Tuner www.accu-tuner.com . It's due to arrive next Tuesday so I'll have an opportunity to practice with it on a couple of other instruments before I take on the Petrof being used by Seraphic Fire.

 

It's a pretty amazing device -- it doesn't tune for you; but hears the harmonics throughout the entire instrument and helps you correct the temperament that's specific for that individual piano. Essentially, it gives you the kind of feedback you'd get if you were sitting at the side of master technician who's been doing tunings for decades. 

 

In fact, that's what it is...the ear of a master. Paul Sanderson, was the chairman of the physics department at Harvard in the 70s with a specialty in sound and a love of pianos. He started building the device in the 80s, using both his ear for the 'art' of the feedback and his knowledge of physics and sound waves to turn it into a set of algorithims for a computer program. It's now in its fourth generation -- the latest just having just come on the market in late 2008.

 

With that thought in mind and a SAT IV arrival eminent early next week, I'm putting aside my fears of Seraphic Fire. Today, after work, I'll plan to put in some productive hours with Yuri to polish another sixteen capstans.

What do you get? I'm not sure; but there is a certain satisfaction in the process.

Yuri's keyframe is functional!!!

Last weekend I'd finished the major rebuilding work for Yuri's bionic (half plastic, half organic) key frame.  Countless hours of filling, sanding, re-filling, more sanding went into its reconstruction. Then starting much too late a week ago Sunday, I put everything back together only to discover everything was out of level and it didn't work! Some of the keys played; yet others right next to those which played would not. Some sections played and others would not. After a moment of panic and despair, I realized this wasn't going to be a problem I could solve at 10:30 PM after having worked on the keyframe for almost two days. And, the logic of why one thing would work right next to something that didn't eluded my understanding that night.

By midnight I had the tools put away, Yuri's disabled action and keyframe back in the case and covered, and I hit the bed realizing any resolution was another week away. I e-mailed my instructors at the Randy Potter School, hoping they might be able to give me a clue regarding resource material; but -- even today -- haven't heard back. I'm beginning to wonder if something is wrong out in Bend, Oregon. Exams aren't getting returned in a timely manner anymore. Phone calls & e-mails are going unanswered. But that's the subject (hopefully not) of another post. So this past Saturday after work, I started refilling and resanding -- got everything back in level, attached the action, slid it back into the case and voila second time was the charm.

Yuri's key frame finally is functional. All the tolerances are correct. And the old boy sounded his first few twangs in several years!

But, oh my gosh! The termite ridden key frame is just the beginning. Fortunately, only one key #86 is damaged by termites and I'm pretty sure now with my key frame experience I can rebuild that. Every metal part has been corroded over his 102 years. There's absolutely no doubt that all the strings and tuning pins will have to be replaced -- that twang wasn't just a tuning issue! There are a few thunks and zings as well.

But one step at a time -- keys first. Yesterday I spent most of the day repolishing the front rail key pins and balance rail pins before putting in new felt and paper punchings in order balance the keys; which, by the way, are weighted perfectly. Unlike my bones, they still have a wonderful spring. I replaced some of the missing damper felts at the back of the keys and repaired the leather back checks. They're a little dry; but are in amazingly good shape considering their age. Tonight I started polishing the capstans you see in the picture. Each octave takes about two hours. So there are quite a few hours to go before anything gets put back together; but at least now I know it'll work.

Before anything else goes back into the case or the action gets re-attached to the keys, I need to make a decision about the key tops. I found a technican's note in pencil on key 88 dated 1948. "Stieff, Levy, Replaced keytops." Short, but to the point with a little history. And a little clue as to who may have owned Yuri some 60 years ago when the keys were refurbished. The person who deacqusitioned Yuri to my care said they piano had been in the same Key West family for 80 years; but didn't have any other information. I'm going to try cleaning them first. There's only a little yellowing so I'm hopeful that's at least one thing that I won't have to replace.

So for tonight, I'm seeing lots of labor ahead plus some other major decisions down the  road such as the pros and cons of keeping and/or replacing the action given the corrosion. So far, I've only found  three badly damaged wippens. They look as if they can be repaired. It's the question of long-term life vs. changing the touch of the instrument that made it uniquely a Stieff. I'm really going to have to do some historical research before I make that call.

Yet, despite that decision and a few others like it, with the bionic key frame both strong and functional, I know the old boy can probably have at least another hundred years of useful life. Somehow, that gives me enough comfort to get to bed early tonight and have a good night's sleep.

Needing to get strategic...

Over the past few days it's become apparent I'll never really get the tuning & repair business off the ground unless I'm able to raise some additional capital. Everything I'm making by tuning is going into tools and equipment -- just the basics of the business. For example, a couple of clients who I've tuned for have broken strings in their instruments. And, while it's a good long term investment, my recent tuning fees were handily eaten up by the bare minimum assortment of piano wire & very basic stringing tools. There's enough wire there to do multiple instruments in the future; but for now it's inventory and cash out of my pocket.

Given the work schedule, the largest number of tuning jobs I can take on at the moment is 2-3 a week, which I'm getting without even trying, but that $200-300 a week is hardly enough to allow me to save the amount needed to rent a shop or take the plunge into the business full time especially since most of it continues to go toward tools, tuition & advertising. And the few disposable assets I do have I'm trying to sell simply aren't moving in this economy.

So today I realized the one major asset I have, both in terms of learning & potential finances, is Yuri, the 1908 5'1' Stieff baby grand. Called in its day, the poor man's Steinway, it could (I think) when restored be sold for between $6 to 8,000, just enough to secure a lease on a shop/showroom. The visibility of a shop would bring in tuning clients, plus it would give me a place to do repairs, which I totally enjoy (something about bringing things back to life), maybe even more than the tuning. And from what I've seen so far in my short career, there's a huge need for this sort of repair work. As of today I've now officially had 15 paying clients. Eleven of them needed work of some kind. The humidity and salt air of the Keys tend to take a toll on instruments here.

Today's decision then was to bite the bullet and complete the work on Yuri. As much as I'd like for personal reasons (i.e. I play her every day) to keep working on her, the repairs on Zelda are going to have to take a backseat for now. I'll keep her tuned; but otherwise I've decided to start shoveling what spare resources I have into Yuri's restoration.

Despite the fact that he's termite ridden and totally rusted -- strings, screws, tuning pins, balance rail pins, etc. -- the basics are sound. In addition to the very necessary case restoration, I'll at a minimum need to replace all the strings, hammers & tuning pins. The action and dampers, for the most part, seem salvageable. So today, I started working on Yuri's termite ridden keyframe once again.

The keyframe has been a real psychological stumbling block for me. Since it can't be reproduced, I'm rebuilding it out of epoxy -- something akin to a bionic piano -- part plastic, part organic. Today's decision was to give up on beauty in the repair in order to focus on strength and functionality. My assumption is that as long as it plays beautifully in the future and the case is stunningly restored, most folks won't care that the innards aren't beautiful as well.

I totaled up what I'm going to need to put into Yuri (assuming I can salvage most of the action & dampers). It'll be in the neighborhood of $1500, not including additional tools I still need to purchase so I can do the job. Since I got the old boy just for the cost of moving it (and totally excluding the hours & hours I'll need to put  in to complete the job), I should -- if I'm lucky -- be able to clear $4 to $6,000 upon completion, enough to seed the business.

So today I took a deep breath and started working on Yuri once again. I took everything apart and got all the sections organized. Cleaned the old boy up and started back to work on the keyframe. Stay tuned. The next few editions of the blog are going to become "living with Yuri"!

Beginning Tuner's Worst Nightmare...

So, for the last couple of months I've been taking on some tuning clients. I've had some great pianos to tune and some real clunkers, e.g. the piano that was last tuned BEFORE it sat in the floodwaters of Wilma. (that's another blog entry sometime in the future)
But even the Wilma piano did not bring out the sweats like today's experience.

This story begins three days ago when I got a call from a new pianist/organist/oboist in Key West, Linda Sparks. She's an incredible talent, just recently moved here from Atlanta. She called to say she was putting together a new monthly concert series at a little-known jewel of a church in Key West, St. Peter's on Center Street. Most folks don't even know it exists; but it's a classic turn-of-the-century high roofed Episcopalian church, complete with incense, 25 parishoners, a great organ and a fabulous grand piano.

Her baritone for the concert had called in sick so she needed a last-minute substitute. Even though the two pieces Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze" auf Deutsch and a setting of "Little Lamb Who Made Thee?" by Ralph Vaughn Williams with oboe deserve at least a few weeks' practice, my ego said 'yes' and we scheduled a Friday eve rehearsal. I stumbled through the baritione solos; but knew I could do it (did I mention Linda is an incredible accompanist and knows how to cover for a singer's egregious errors?) with a little help from above (and from Linda). But during the rehearsal it became obvious the piano was slightly out of tune. So, ego taking over again, I volunteered to clean up the unisons before the concert. Unisons, no biggie! Piano tuning 101. At least I have that part down pat already.

Saturday I was tuning some other pianos; so I told her I'd be over after the morning worship service to work on the grand.

She and I moved the grand into position for the concert --- we tried out a couple of places; so we were rolling it back and forth in front of the church. Little did we know we were also slowly dislodging some cellunoids that are part of this particular piano's "Piano Disc" unit, an elaborate electronic system that allows the piano to play from a CD.

So, I took about an hour and cleaned up all the unisons -- sounded great UNTIL I started running scales to see if I'd missed anything. EVERYTHING above F69 would not play. And I didn't know why. I hadn't touched anything in the action. It was at this point I started sweating profusely. She was playing a Liszt voluntary which used all those notes -- A LOT!!!!! -- to close the concert.

I went home to change clothes and decided all I could do was to call. It's exactly 1 1/2 hours before the concert is due to start.

Me: "Linda, errr, there's a problem."
Linda: "Ohh?"
Me: "Do you have a backup number to close the concert?"
Linda: "No, I've only worked three weeks to be get this piece up to performance level. I don't have anything else."
Me: "Ohh."
Linda: "So, what's the problem?"
Me: "Err, nothing above F69 plays anymore."
Linda: ...silence...
Me: ...silence...
Linda: "let me give you a phone number. His name is Silas and he's one of the top piano technicians in Atlanta. He can talk you through it."

I write down the phone number, change clothes (not that it matters anymore since sweat is pouring off me) and go back to St. Peter's with all my tuning gear.

I call Silas and describe the piano and what we'd done. When I mention the words "Piano Disc" he knows exactly what's happened. Apparently, there are heavy solenoid units that sit on top of the action which can get dislodged when you move the piano, thereby rendering those keys useless.

OK, what do I do? It's now 70 minutes before the concert is due to start.

He talks me through two or three options. I told him I'd call him back if they worked. THEY DIDN'T. I call him back. The next option involves removing the action from the piano (more sweat) and reseating the keys. I try that! IT WORKS! I put the fallboard, key blocks, etc. back in place.

Linda walks in. It's now 60 minutes before the concert. She's lovely in a mauve gown, just about the color I'm turning. I'm feeling relieved; so decide to show her that the problem is solved. IT DOESN'T WORK!!!! AIEEE. So I take the action back out of the piano and start all over again. Did I mention the clock is ticking?
I go through all the same steps Silas has  told me to try out. And, this time it works! THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.  But there wasn't even time to put the fallboard back in place.

Different mind set...calm ... "Sheep May Safely Graze" ...Bach....

I didn't even have time to sweat about that. We ran through the piece a couple of times with the flute players. But didn't have time to run through the Vaughn Williams as people were beginning to show up for the concert. And then we were on.

I keep staring at the keyboard as the priest intones his blessing on the people and pups gathered for the St. Francis blessing. "Will it hold? Will it hold? Will it hold?" We got through the first two numbers. Flutes sounded great. I was on another planet as I was singing; but people came up afterwards and said I sounded great. "Fine baritone you have. Why, you didn't even need a microphone."

All I could keep thinking was "will it hold?" Then Linda began the Liszt.

The piano's tone was crystalline. The action was perfect. Linda was fabulous. I was now not only sweating, but crying. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

This is the stuff that isn't even in the advanced piano technician's manual. Thank goodness there was an angel in Atlanta -- Silas -- who knew how to talk me through. He saved the concert.

Balancing the three-legged stool...

It's been something of a whirlwind of activity over the last couple of months. I've broken my "no more photography until I finish my piano technician coursework" rule three times, taken on several new piano tuning and repair assignments, have started editing the photos for two new Web sites, am in the process of rebooting an old Web site for which I'm learning totally new software, traveled a couple of weekends, participated in a succesful group show at a gallery called "Art 612", hosted several out-of-town guests, kept my volunteer activities going at church plus managed the day job several weeks by myself while the owners were on vacation. Needless to say, I haven't made much time for posting here.


Today is different. After spending a wonderful weekend with my friend and former model Josh Kole, I drove him to the airport for the 1 PM flight out of Key West. I came home to catch up on two weeks of laundry just as the thunderstorms started. My cat Ranger is hiding in the cupboard under the bathroom vanity (he despises thunderstorms) so there are relatively few distractions other than the occasional clap of thunder and the drumming of rain on the tin roof. It's a good evening for reflection.

The three photography diversions have reminded me that this really is a passion I can't give up. My expectations for anything commercially lucrative are still relatively low. I'm happy just to have the opportunity to work with incredible people who are creative and willing to take risks to co-create some wonderful images with me. So, just at that level, it's something I have to make room for in my life.

However, one of the people who worked with me is a fellow by the name of Cole Grayson. His partner of many years has created a very successful Web site manavenue.com based on a nearly identical business model as my old site mansimage.com, which still runs quietly in the background of the Internet with no updates for over five years. When I drove through the gates to their Coral Gables mansion all paid for by the Web site revenues, I admit to having some pangs of envy, especially as he started his site two years after my business partner and I started ours. The difference between him and us is that he kept his focus clear and stayed on task. He's smart, works hard and deserves every dime he's made. So there really isn't a reason to be envious of him; only disappointed in myself.

Seeing his operation up close was daunting. The technology has totally changed over the past five years. In addition to continuing my piano studies, I'm also facing a very steep learning curve for all the things I thought I knew well. The Web authoring software (which I now own) is totally different. My video editing platform is antique and I'm still editing my photography with CS though CS5 is the latest and greatest (those I still have to find the cash for). But it isn't just the expense, it's also the question of how many languages and skills can I learn in order to be competitive -- whether it's Web authoring or piano technology.

A signficant realization today as I talked with Josh over brunch was about the only time I stray off task is when I get depressed. And the only time I get depressed is when I start comparing myself to someone else. Daunting, yes; but I'm not daunted. It's just one step at a time, keeping the focus clear and staying on task.

To do so, I've got to do a better job of balancing my three-legged stool. I have to keep the day job to pay the rent, buy a few groceries for myself and Ranger, and, hopefully, keep on paying down debt. The piano business is already beginning to happen even before I've put the word out publicly. People are even beginning to find my little place holder page at keystuning.com Already people are walking into the store asking me to tune -- or more significantly -- to fix their 1926 Model L Steinway. It's a task I'll soon be able to take on as I'm rebuilding two grands right now, a 1908 Stieff and a 1910 Knabe. I'm learning the skills; but it'll be a while before I want to take on the responsibility of someone else's $100,000 instrument. And, of course, the third leg is the photography and Web authoring, which I turned my back on just about this time last year. Now I realize, it's something that I not only love but still has potential for success if I can keep focused on the task at hand.

Guess that's all by long way of saying, I'm getting back on the horse and am ready to ride once again. Giddyup!

Shipment 4

The reading and lessons from the Randy Potter School are getting more dense. Last week I received the 4th of the five shipments, including a vertical action model. There were "only" about four hundred more pages so I've begun working through them as I can.

I wish the shipment had arrived a few days earlier. Thursday evening I was asked to tune the grand being used by Opera Fest here in Key West for a concert the next evening. No problem with the tuning. However, all the bass dampers from A1 through B15 were sticking. How to fix dampers was in the supplement I received on Saturday. But my "guess" was correct. I managed to get 14 of the 15 working just as folks were walking in wearing their tuxedos.

It's great that folks are trusting me to work on their instruments already; but my skill sets are still very much in the formative stage. While I don't know the solution to every problem, fortunately I do know enough now to keep from harming anything. If I don't know what to do, I simply stop. My first rule of thumb is "do no harm"!

Okay, enough with the update for the evening. Back to the books!

Sooner than I'd planned

In addition to my continuing studies and work on Zelda, I took on my first paid tuning jobs rather unexpectedly this past week. I've been doing some tuning for friends for trade and/or free, but I really hadn't planned on doing any work professionally until I was a little deeper into the course...fear of success?

And no place to begin but at the top I suppose. Donna Roll, Chair of the Opera Department at the Longy Conservatory http://www.longy.edu/ in Cambridge, Massachusetts is in Key West for six weeks for a summer institute. She has advanced students from around the world as well as young people with promise who she's accepted into the program. The institute called Opera Fest is housed at Old Stone Church in Key West. And for those of you reading this who may reside here, don't walk; but run to hear the performances each Friday evening at 7:30.

The first night of their performances I was tuning the rehearsal pianos; but went this past Friday. I sat there hardly able to breathe in awe of the talent she's gathered in our little city. In just over a week she was able to produce a staged version of Puccini's Suor Angelica. It's a work with which I was unfamiliar; but filled with soaring melodies written with Puccini's seamless harmonies. It's also a tear jerker -- even without the translation, I don't think there was a dry eye in the house. The singing was perfection.

But back to tuning. The first piano I worked on was a 1948 Cable Nelson console that had apparently not been tuned since 1980. At least that's what the cards inside said. It was at least 75 cents flat (3/4 of a full pitch) throughout the piano. I worked on it for 5 full hours. I had to raise the pitch twice before attempting a fine tuning. When I checked it out during intermission this past Friday it was almost holding; at least 95% had stayed in pitch. The 5% out, of course, hurt. So I'll return this coming Wednesday to give it one more fine tuning. With all the rehearsing going on, it's gone from being an in-the-corner never used instrument to something that must be in tune.

As Dean Walters, who had invited me to work on the instruments, said "You might as well as cut your teeth on something tough." He got that part right! And I'm deeply appreciative that he gave me this early opportunity.

The second piano, also a Cable Nelson console (this one from 1955) was actually in pretty decent shape. While a little out of tune, only the bass section had sagged significantly. That one was a little more reasonable in terms of the time it took. Still 3 hours; but I wanted it to be as perfect as possible. I'll give it a quick check as well to see how it's holding.

Given the hours involved I think I'm probably making less on these first two jobs than I would be if I were working at McDonald's. But the pleasure of hearing that 1948 Cable Nelson sing for the first time in nearly 30 years was for me priceless; not to mention my first check was signed by Donna Roll! I think I'll laminate the bank deposit slip that shows an image of the check! It meant a lot to me to think I had some small roll in the success of her singers...at least their ears weren't hurting during rehearsals.

So all this got me to thinking. If I can tune for Donna Roll and Dean Walters, why not go ahead and start quietly tuning even before I complete the entire course? Most of the course is about repair, regulating, voicing, etc., which honestly you could spend a lifetime on and never learn it all. But I do already have the basics of the tuning part. The work at Old Stone gave me enough confidence to know I can do this well and, importantly, if I can start getting even occasional jobs it'll help support my Zelda and Yuri costs. Zelda's repairs are mostly affordable; but it's already obvious that I'm going to have to spend close to $2,000 just on parts alone for Yuri. Plus I'm trying to save money for what I think of as my "finals" in Bozeman, Montana this coming January. Even a few tuning jobs could go a long way in helping make all that a reality.

Net result? I started working on a business card to start leaving around town where I know musicians gather. I spent several nights this past week doing photography and playing around in Photoshop. The one shown in the picture above is still in the conceptual stage; but it's beginning to have the feel I'm looking for. I've a friend Sheri Lohr who's a graphic designer who'll hopefully be able to take it to where it needs to be as well as develop a logo from the elements.

But for now, it's just a big "thank you" to Dean and Donna for having enough confidence in me to help me get to the next step in my journey.

Key dips and aches...

The fun videos they show on YouTube showing how easily and quickly issues with key dip can be corrected have a dirty little secret. They always show somebody happily sitting fixing the natural keys. They never show someone working on the sharps. And now I know why -- you can't see them, you can't reach them, they're nearly impossible to measure correctly and you have to get down on your hand and knees to work on them.

That's what I learned this past Thursday.

Since I don't own the fancy Jaras sharp key dip/leveler device I figured out a way to jury rig my own tool with a t-square with a level built in. That's twice now that tool has turned into a handy solution for getting around the purchase of expensive tools from piano supply places. McGiver I'm not; but it is occasionally gratifying to figure out an alternative solution.

Once I knew out how to measure the sharp key dip accurately (I still don't get this "you'll feel it" stuff), I nonetheless had to resort to long needle nose pliers, rigging up lights and getting down on my hands and knees to reach in pull out the felts, put in the proper number of punchings and replace the felts. Thank goodness there aren't as many sharps. It took about four hours and my body simply ached in places I didn't even know I had when finished.

On the other hand, the Zelda's touch and response has improved immensely. There's much more control in almost every respect. Next steps will be regulating the action behind the keys and ultimately voicing.

After I finished putting her back together, I decided to give Zelda a quick tune. Moving the action in and out constantly has destabilized her a bit. The quick clean up turned into a major retune. I finished up at 1:30 am Friday. Even though I was exhausted from the 17 hour day, I couldn't help but playing her for a while afterwards. She, once again, sounds even more fabulous. Each step in the regulating process brings out a different nuance hidden in her bones.

Speaking of tuning; Friday evening I had my first paid tuning job for Donna Roll's Young Artists series hosted here in Key West. They've moved locations and the pianos at the new location have been (to be kind) neglected over the years. The one I worked on Friday hadn't been tuned since 1980. Not only was it out of tune with itself -- it was on average 75 cents flat throughout the piano -- not exactly something you teach young artists with. It took a while -- five hours -- to clean it up, raise the pitch and then finally tune it. But despite its years of of neglect was sounding pretty good last evening when finished. I'll go back in about a week to see how stable it is and give it another fine tuning.

Tomorrow after church, I'll tackle another of their instruments. Hopefully, it won't be quite as neglected. Nonetheless, working on these kind of instruments is probably the best way to get the experience I need.

By the way, back to Zelda, did I mention before I replaced any of the front rail felts, I polished out each front rail pin to help improve the key action? (see photo) Yet another of those many subtle steps needed to achieve a more beautiful sound.

Need to get to bed so I can be alert to handle tomorrow's tuning challenges --and whatever else the day may bring.

Touch regulation...

After my struggles with key height chronicled in the last post I decided to go back to Danny Boone's book Regulating Grand Piano Touch and Tone. And read it again. Duh, right there it was! Key height is governed primarily by the balance rail pin and to some lesser degree by the backcheck rail felt. That information was buried in one sentence on page 84. My guess as to what I'd done wrong was correct. But it was a hard way to learn that lesson.

The first three hours of Memorial Day was spent undoing what I'd done incorrectly; then setting the proper height with all the keys seated on the bed level with each other. It's amazing what a difference a paper punching only 3/1000 or 5/1000th of an inch thick can make. Gradually I got the feel for the correct sizes and how many to use. The book says with practice "you should become able to level the white keys in one or two passes". For me, it was more like four or five. And, of course, there are the sharps as well.

Since I didn't know what to order in the first place I got the "assortment package" of punchings both for balance rail pins and front rail pins. The good news is I had everything I needed. The bad news is I now have a lifetime supply -- they come in packages of 1000 and they sent about a dozen different sizes of each.

After setting the key heights, I squared, leveled and spaced Zelda's keys -- no gap teeth, please. Then it was time to set the hammer line.

This is where it gets pretty precise -- the hammers need to have a "blow distance" of 1 3/4 inch below the strings. So I took a level with a t-square built in and checked the height of Zelda's strings from the key bed. She really was built well. A hundred years later and the deviation is at most 1/64th of an inch on a few of the strings. I'd call that level.

So I rigged up a taut line at exactly the 1 3/4 distance below the string (see photo) height; then moved the action to the workbench. Another four hours of my Memorial Day holiday was happily spent adjusting the hammer line to the correct blow distance. The photo shows the hammers before adjustment -- some were less than a half inch away from the strings; others were over two and a half inches. The point of all this is to create an even touch and response. For those that are too close you couldn't get a forte if your life depended on it. For those too far, you could defintely get some power; but the sound would always be late --notes played at the same time would sound at different times.

But it isn't over yet! Touch isn't just about key height and hammer blow distance. It's also about making sure the distance that each key travels to exert a blow to the string is the same as the key next to it. Otherwise the pianist has no control. So the next four hours of my Memorial Day holiday was spent happily adjusting what's called "key dip".

While the punchings on the balance rail have more overall impact for their size, the range of motion for each key is incredibly varied. As precisely made as the keys are -- they are, after all, over a hundred years old. Time gives not only character but lots of variation. The number of punchings required to correct these variations multiply almost exponentially. Hmmm, maybe I don't have a lifetime supply after all -- at least not for front rail pins.

I completed all the natural keys. Stared at the clock -- 10:30 PM and realized that there wasn't an ounce of energy left to do anything else. And that's where I am now.

Last night I took a little time off to do some minor retuning -- all this moving in and out of action parts, etc. has had rattled the old girl a bit. Tonight I'm writing. And tomorrow, I turn my attention back to the key dip of the sharps. It'll be a bit more complex -- one, because the punchings are harder to get at; and two, because there are seven or eight "recommended" ways how to get the correct measurement. One book just says "go by feel" -- how do you feel 3/1000 of an inch and know if it's correct or not?

I bought a handy dandy Davis sharp leveler adjustment from Schaff. I'm going to carefully reread the instructions tomorrow morning (my last Thursday off before we start summer hours at the shop) and devote probably the next four hours to leveling out Zelda's sharps.

After that, I'm not sure. I'm thinking about beginning to play with some preliminary wood refinishing approaches in some test patches to see what looks best.

Or, if it's not 94 like it was today, I may actually take a bike ride around the island. Bending over a bench -- even happily -- for 10-12 hours making painstakingly precise adjustments is a little tough on the back.

Learning Curve...

There have been a few setbacks lately. That is, of course, how you learn. Seems no matter how much you read, watch videos, seek out advice, etc. there's always something else you should have known that would have made all the difference in outcome -- had you known it at the time. I suppose that's what experience is all about; learning the hard way.

I reported on the epoxy setback with Yuri a few posts ago. Today my master carpenter friend Frank was at church and asked about progress, expecting a glowing report. When I told him about being sold the "foolproof" West epoxy system, his face fell. "The bums, they should have never sold you that! Of course, it didn't work. It has the wrong viscosity." Yep, that's what I learned the hard way. Frank is now on a personal mission to find a new source for the correct brand of epoxy -- one that holds its shape while you're working with it. Hopefully, there will be a happier report on Yuri's termite ridden keyframe in the not-too-distant future.

But back to Zelda. Each sharp got relacquered this past week. Each natural ivory keytop was taken out and polished with rottenstone (a diatomaceous limestone found originally near Tripoli) to a mellow creamy glow. The touch after polishing out, by the way, is spectacular. While I'd never want to see another elephant or walrus sacrificified just so pianos could have ivory keys, I now understand why it was the material of choice for piano makers at the turn of the century. I've never owned or played a piano before with real ivory keys. There's something about how the bone seats with skin that makes the touch of the piano more secure, more perfect. It's almost as if your fingers have an organic communication though the keys with the rest of the instrument.

At any rate, the touch is so perfect now that the keys have been cleaned I've decided to keep all the existing ivories, even with some of their imperfections. On the one hand, it's a compromise from the aspect of appearance; on the other to change them would reduce, I believe, the quality of how the instrument plays in the long run. So I carefully reglued those that were coming off and filed down a few dog-toothed gaps to prevent future mishaps. It isn't a perfect set of keys; but I think they're probably superior to any modern alternative I could use.

When I replaced all the keys in the keyframe Thursday night, there was another one of those "that wasn't in the book" minor setbacks. They looked great; but once the keyframe was back in Zelda's keybed they were consistently a quarter inch too high. Ack! My moment of glory turned into a huge "what did I do wrong this time" question mark.

I think I know. The action had settled lower into the moth-eaten felt. I replaced the backcheck felt as well as the balance rail felts which were also pretty worn looking. I'd carefully counted each paper punching below the felts and replaced them with the same number of punchings that were there previously, forgetting that over a hundred years those felts and punchings were well compressed. So effectively, by raising the backcheck felt and putting in all new (as you can see in the bottom picture) balance rail pin punchings and felts, I raised the keys too high.

My next step is to take the keyframe all apart again and reduce the number of punchings for each key in the balance rail. As a test I'd tried this out on three keys Thursday before I put everything away. It worked. So, it's just going to take a lot of patience and time.

Assuming I get the keys back to where they need to be, the next step is going to be setting the "key dip", i.e. the amount of travel each key has so they're all consistent. Then comes resetting the hammer height and blow distance to accommodate for all the changes I've made. It's something of a "give a little, take a little" process. Each adjustment you make to one part of the action affects how another part operates.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day so I'll have all day to work through correcting my mistake and moving on to the next steps. Tonight I'm just going to read and hopefully learn a bit more and start organizing all the tools and parts. Hopefully, with a good night's sleep, a bit more knowledge and some better organization my learning curve won't be so steep tomorrow.

Moths in the Knabe...

Tuesday and Wednesday evenings were focused on getting the sharp keys refurbished. Thursday is my day off from work. I awoke energized and ready to get to work on the polishing up all the ivories with rottenstone (which I did; but that's another post).

After removing all the keys from the keyframe it was obvious that moths had been at work over the years in the backcheck felt. It was so thin in many spots it's amazing Zelda wasn't clacking with every key pressed down.

Termites had destroyed much of the Stieff's keyframe and felts (still working on that one as well) so I'd already purchased a new backcheck felt for that instrument. Fortunately, it was the same size so it got used for Zelda's moth eaten felt instead.

Pianos don't respond well to the excess humidity of the tropics; but it's clear our climate comes with some other less visible enemies -- critters.

As I become more proficient with my skills; I wonder if I should create a "tropical diseases" speciality for my piano doctoring. Looks as if it may become a necessity.

Key aesthetics...

As long as I'm working on Zelda's action and have it scattered through the cottage, I figured it's time to repolish the ivories and relacquer the sharps. I started this evening with the sharps after polishing up the capstans.

Years of playing had worn away the sides of the sharp keys. Wherever a finger could come down between the sharps, the raw wood showed through -- not especially beautiful. "Sharp Black" lacquer is the answer. Thankfully, it's self leveling and doesn't leave visible brush marks. So Zelda's sharps are looking pretty good right now after several hours of careful prep and painting.

Tomorrow evening I hope to start cleaning up the ivories with brown Rottenstone (Tripoli) polish. Going to need to get a buffing wheel attachment for my drill to do that properly; but am looking forward to seeing where I can take them aesthetically.

Getting Back in the Flow with Zelda

I've been so preoccupied over the past six weeks with house guests and bringing bad boy Yuri into the house, that Zelda has been neglected. Having lost my focus on her, I've also been feeling disconnected and at sorts with myself.

Today after chuch I decided to start working on the old girl again. Working on her brought about an improvement for both of us -- clarity is a word that I could probably apply not only to Zelda; but also myself after working on her all day.

The more I learn about her I understand (in contrast to Yuri) how incredibly well she's held up over the years. All my small adjustments yield dynamic results. Unlike her alligatored outer case, which needs attention, her innards are responding for the most part like a youngster. Her issues aren't so much repair as they are regulation.

The first step I took today was reshaping the hammers. After watching the Randy Potter tape on the subject for the umpteenth time, I took the plunge -- removing old felt that had been beaten down over the years the layers came off to reveal perfectly shaped hammers under the distortion of time.

Doing the work was both aesthetically and psychologically satisfying. It took about four hours (I'm still learning) to finish all 88 hammers; but the repetition of the work -- first rough sanding to reshape then fine sanding with strips of 350 emery cloth to polish each felt -- took on an almost meditative energy. Seeing the results as I finished each hammer was equally satisfying.

After finishing up the hammers I did a bit more preliminary regulating -- dressing up the knuckles of the hammer, then lubricating them. And finally, bringing all the hammers to equal alignment by adjusting the capstans. It's all about making the keys consistent in both response to the pianist's touch as well as having a clean, brilliant sound. And, oh by the way, there are about another thirty checks and possible adjustments to make.

Getting the hammers back into shape is a major change though; one that was immediately evident when I replaced the action late this evening. Everytime I think Zelda can't sound any better, she surprises me with her response. I was thrilled with the beauty of the tone and improvement in the touch.

Next step -- leveling the keys. Hopefully, I'll be able to get a good start on that tomorrow evening after work.

No triumph this evening...

Not every step along the way is a sure one. This afternoon I went over to Frank's for my epoxy lesson. Seemed simple enough. You create a mold of the section you want to fill, line it with wax paper (which apparently is one of the few things epoxy won't bind with), mix up the resin & hardener, then start filling. He was extremely generous with his time and knowledge -- he'd even prepared some sample mold strips and gave me some clamps to get started. He also told me where to get his favorite brand of epoxy.

So after the lesson I headed over the marine supply store, making it just before it closed. The store owner seemed very knowledgeable -- so knowledgeable that he convinced me the brand that Frank likes to use (which he no longer carries) was inferior. "If you want something that's perfect everytime, you need to use the West system." Sold. Perfect everytime sounded good. So I plunked down $72 for the resin, hardener and dispensing system and came home.

After making a little dinner I got everything ready. Laid out the tools, read the instructions and made the mold that's shown in the photo above for the first section of Yuri's keyframe I wanted to fill.

There's definitely a difference between Frank's product and the West product. His epoxy was viscous and the West product is watery. So I'm thinking, that's great -- it means I can get into the tight places without having to work the epoxy in as Frank had demonstrated. However, my mold wasn't perfect. Apparently, there was one small place I'd missed which allowed the mixture to pour out onto the work surface. Fortunately, I'd prepared the workbench with heavy builder's paper just in case something went wrong. Unfortunately, something went wrong.

Clearly, I missed a memo on the "perfect everytime"!

Right now Yuri's keyframe is sitting outside. No rain is expected so it should be safe. I'll give it another try Saturday, which hopefully will give me some time to figure out what I did wrong and get over my initial disappointment. Sigh.

More damage discovered in Yuri's keyframe...

This evening I spent removing the heavy felt that supports the wippens at the back of Yuri's action. The process involves patience, a steam iron and a damp rag. Hide glue was the product of choice back in 1908. It's obviously stable for decades but some damp heat released the felt from the wood (or should I say, what was left of it.)

I'd noticed a few small holes in the felt at one end making me suspicious that termites may have been active in an area that appeared sound. Not so! The heavy felt masked three other significant areas of termite damage. At least now I have everything revealed. It still appears there's enough wood to hold and shape the epoxy "cure" which I'll begin this Thursday under Frank's tutelage.

Fixing the keyframe with the epoxy will no doubt take some time as each small section will need to be blocked out separately with wood & wax paper held in place with clamps. Epoxy, gravity, curing time and sanding will complete the process. After the keyframe is restored then I'll need to replace the termite eaten felts. Guess I'd better order those tonight -- they might arrive by the time I'm finished with the keybed.

With Yuri torn apart for the forseeable future, it looks like my aspirations last night to give him an appropriate formal portrait will be on hold for a while. I just hope Zelda isn't getting jealous from all the extra attention this damaged prodigal son is receiving.

In the long run she's sure to benefit from what I learn from Yuri. Ultimately, she's the more valuable instrument so I've been reluctant to use her as my teaching instrument to address the small number of restringing issues she has. As with his action and damaged dampers, Yuri's strings are all going to have to be removed given the rusted tuning pins and a number of broken strings he has. I have no choice. So, hopefully, by the time I get to replacing Zelda's few damaged strings I'll have mastered the skills required.

Time to dig into the Schaff supply catalog, make an order and call it a night.

Bad guess...

In this evening's mail came a new copy of the Pierce Piano Atlas, 12th Edition. It lists information on dates and manufacture of literally thousands of pianos worldwide.

I'd guessed that Yuri, the new Stieff addition to our piano household was Zelda's younger brother. In fact he predates her by two years having been built in Baltimore in 1908. Now I'm going to have to do a more dignified portrait befitting his senior status instead of all of those termite shots.

Ranger's evaluation of my appraisal skills is evident in his stare -- "bad guess"!

Termites deep in the Stieff...

When I first removed Yuri's action last Tuesday the unmistakable crunch of paper-thin wood under my fingers indicating termite damage made my stomach plummet. There was no doubt the little critters had been happily munching away; the only question was how extensive was their foraging?

After Yuri arrived at the cottage, I gave him a thorough examination. The good news was the termite activity was limited to the keyframe. The bad news is that the keyframe is the foundation for practically everything that makes a piano work. The tolerances for the key and balance rail pins are perhaps at most 1/32 of an inch and the frame itself slides into the piano's keybed with perhaps an eight of an inch to spare. It may look like a hunk of wood; but it is precision craftmanship.

Knowing that I have my plate full just learning action repair and regulating skills, I called a friend Frank Antonowich who is a master cabinet maker. The thought was that he could perhaps build a new frame to replace the old. We set an appointment for today at 3 PM for him to give me his assessment.

Again, bad news and good news. Building a new frame to the tolerances required would require getting cured hardwood that's nearly impossible to find, not to mention hours and hours of labor. Read major $$$. He's a friend; but he does this for a living, not just out of the goodness of his heart. On the other hand, he suggested that the damaged frame could be reformed out of the same type of epoxy used to repair boats and he's willing to teach me how to do it! The frame would conform to the original tolerances and the epoxy would replace the termite-damaged wood with a material even stronger than the wood. It'll be a labor of love; but that's what this adventure is all about -- learning new skills.

We set our next appointment for next Thursday at 5 PM. My homework assignment is to remove all the action and keys from the frame then dig out all the damaged wood. So for the remainder of this afternoon and early evening, I busied myself with digging out termite droppings to reveal what's left of the frame.

As I dug I was amazed first at how extensive the damage was. Some portions of the frame had only a quarter inch of good wood left. On the other hand --again, good news--the termites had given wide berth to the wood around every pin in the frame. Each is in solid wood, which means Frank's solution will work!

I'm stoked. It'll take hours; but it looks as if Yuri's first major problem is one that can be solved. Stay tuned for the Thursday update.

Zelda Has a Brother

Today I took off a half day from work to "pick up" Yuri, Zelda's new brother. He's a bit heavier than the old girl and a bit younger (though I still have to date him exactly, I'm guessing mid-1920s) and in much, much worse shape.

Once again, though, good bones -- another Baltimore baby. This time a Charles Stieff; so called during its heyday "the poor man's Steinway."

He's had a rough life. Termites have chewed through much of the keyframe, the case has been battered a lot and some feeble attempts at repairs have created more problems than the original damage. Pedals are dysfunctional. Strings are probably salvageable though all the tuning pins are rusted so everything is going to have to be taken apart and reworked. Supposedly, he was in one family in Key West for about 70 years so I'm guessing he was sitting by an open window in the salt air. Dampers, action & hammers look like they can be saved for the most part. Pinblock, most bridges (except one) and sound board are in good shape. The keytops actually look pretty good -- I'm guessing once again, but perhaps not played that much?

He's going to be a challenge. But by the time I finish with both Yuri and Zelda, I should well be on my way to establishing my repair and restoration skills.

One more concert to go this weekend (just finished singing in the Mozart Requiem last Sunday) and then I turn 100% of my non-job hours into working on the two pianos this summer. The cottage is going to become piano workshop central.

My goal is still to have Zelda ready to sing for her 100th birthday on July 24th. Yuri will, at that point, be very much a work in progress.

Obviously, there's much more to come; but I just wanted to document his first day at the cottage. Moving this 800 pound bad boy was a bit on the strenuous side. I'm exhausted and ready for a good night's sleep.

Mindful of my body...

My friend George Fontana once remarked "this getting old ain't for sissies".

Last night I was acutely reminded of that as I embarked on "Exercises for the Independence of the Fingers". (Time to get back to playing seriously as well as tuning.) Movements I could execute effortlessly in my 20s were stessful. After less than fifteen minutes my hands were so racked with pain I no longer could move them.

With that pain came the realization I'm just going to have to be more patient and work even harder to gain back the physical strength and agility I once had. But I'm determined to play Scriabin once again -- and play his exquisite music even better than I did before.

With age also comes understanding. Six sharps are no longer a problem, but patience is. Our challenge is to remember each moment as a gift and bless the body we do have. It's so easy to focus on the pain; yet it's our attitude toward the pain that makes the difference -- whether we give into it or grow through it.

Thich Nhat Hanh provides a different kind of exercise to help with the mental side of the ageing process.

There are so many things that can provide us with peace. Next time you take a shower or a bath, I suggest you hold your big toes in mindfulness. We pay attention to everything except our toes. When we hold our toes in mindfulness and smile at them, we will find that our bodies have been very kind to us. We know that any cell in our toes can turn cancerous, but our toes have been behaving very well, avoiding that kind of problem. Yet, we have not been nice to them at all. These kinds of practices can bring us happiness.

Well, it's time to go get a shower then off to work -- perhaps with a different attitude.

Ranger's take on flow...

My cat Ranger's accuracy for predicting the alarm clock's cheerful greeting is (usually) within nano-seconds. The first thing I see each morning are a set of inquisitive eyes ready to begin the day's adventure -- at least until the next nap. If I don't make my exit from under the covers quickly enough I'm then gently reminded by paws kneading my chest there are some priorities that need attending. Food for cats now, food for thought later.

With that need met, he then proceeds to instruct me about how to enjoy the day. Every object he encounters in the room is a source of awe or a potential playmate. The laundry basket is filled with wonders -- if only they can be extracted. The spot on the floor I overlooked when cleaning needs some investigation -- pounce. The ball left next to the stove is clearly misplaced. A new game -- leap and roll. And finally, ready for the next nap, the blanket on the ottoman must be arranged precisely.

Each encounter is a study in absolute concentration -- then with mission accomplished he moves on. The joy with which he approaches each adventure of the morning is a reminder that true treasure lies in the ability to seize each moment of life we're afforded. In some ways there really isn't a lot more we need to know.

Tuning as flow...

One of my classmates at the University of Chicago Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi wrote what's become an important book for behavioral scientists, organizational consultants and top athletes entitled Flow. As I perused Amazon books so I could remember how to spell his name it appears he's expanded recently on the original with another entitled Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience (P.S.) I suspect he now lives what he so aptly describes through his books.

Though I knew him well before he wrote the book I remember talking about the idea in our small seminar of eight led by anthropologist Victor Turner. Turner had this notion that we human beings learn most and are at our best when we become caught in "in between" places which he referred to as "liminal space".

I think what Mihaly did was expand the idea by adding the notion of time ... that we can create for ourselves an ongoing experience of "best effort" when we become so focused in the moment that time no longer is relevant, i.e we are as the common phrase goes "in the flow of things."

In essence, flow is what we experience when we're so in love with what we're doing that effort become effortless and time no longer moves. It's a moment of transcendance when we are closest to who we really are.

Recently, I've begun to have this experience in the time I spend tuning Zelda and playing her keys afterward. And the feeling sometimes moves forward through my other daily activities. I'll look up in the sky and the silhouetted palm tree isn't just a tree; but a glowing being. It can happen anywhere, anytime; but it's grounded in an act of love.

Csikszentmihalyi describes what the experience is and by implication how we can create it. Once we love an activity enough -- writing, performing on stage, singing, painting bookmarks, tuning a piano, whatever it may be for each of us -- we are able to experience an echo of the great creative act that has given life to us all.

In these transcendant moments our hearts open, our spirits soar and our imaginations fly unfettered. In these moments we experience the essence of abundance -- we come to know who we are. I suspect it may be the closest any of us can get to God.

Received my first aural exam back...

I mailed the first tape for evaluation to the school on December 12th. A month went by. Then two. I'm a patient man; but this was clearly a case where, unlike the proverb, all things do not come to those who wait. Thinking that perhaps they had never even received the original tape, I emailed the school secretary this past Thursday asking whether they had received the tape, and offering to re-submit it as necessary.

Her reply was "we received it" and it's in the hands of the instructor; then gave me his personal e-mail. I sent him an inquiry and received an almost instant response "working on it right now." About two hours later there was a seven-page evaluation of the initial tuning I'd done.

While the instructor had fluffed it out a bit with some boiler plate, it was clear he really had evaluated the tape, note by note, and had some excellent suggestions regarding hammer technique.

Zelda is still the principal instrument I'm practicing on. And, perhaps because many of her strings are fatigued from a hundred years, it doesn't take much hammer movement to change a pitch dramatically. So he gave me some clues about a technique that isn't discussed in the text -- making the adjustment at the exact moment you're striking the key. That way not only the hammer movement but the key strike as well work together to alter the pitch. What I had done on my intial tape was to alter pitch after the strike...and with Zelda any movement creates a big change. Working on some strings was the aural equivalent of watching a pendulum swing back and forth; and never quite coming to rest. As a consequence, while not many, there are several strings that I just couldn't get an exact unison even though I could hear it was out of pitch.

The technique is make more blows, strike more frequently and make the adjustment at the moment of the blow. I tried it out this afternoon.

It works! I went back through the piano and reworked some octaves that hadn't been perfect before. Then searched for any unisons that were out -- even if it was only a half a beat off every couple seconds. I cleaned and cleaned.

Just when I thought Zelda's pitch couldn't get any better because of what I believed were stringing inharmonicities, I was proved wrong. She can give even more -- she just had to be coaxed the right way. I spent another two hours on her.

The results were great. Full, clean chords. Perfect octaves. And great unisons--even in that irritating upper treble. I'm guessing she can do even better as I become more adept. But I was so pleased with the results that I put my hammer and mutes away around 4:30. With only a break for dinner and a couple of phone calls, I've been playing non-stop ever since. She sounds so rich and full. The more I play her the more I realize how blessed I am to have this instrument in my life -- as both muse and musical companion.

Though it was a bit longer coming than I'd wished for, the feedback and suggestions were great. Interestingly, the suggestions came at a time when I could really put them to good use.

And oh, by the way, the instructor was very complimentary. He commented that while the initial tuning wasn't perfect (I knew that) that I really had nailed all the basics (sigh of relief).

This coming week I have several goals. Obviously, I'll keep practicing the basics, tape and send in the second aural exam. I've also lined up another piano to work on. It'll be important because it's an older spinet, which will pose a whole other set of tuning and repair challenges.

Until next time.

Another big step forward...

After the last two day's successful effort at giving Zelda a fine tuning, I decided I had to make my next fearful step forward today. Three keys have never played. So I made the decision I'd at least find out why even if I couldn't repair them at this point.

Gulp!!! That meant finally opening up the case in order to take out the action. In addition to reading everything Randy Potter has to say about this, I read Reblitz' book, watched YouTube videos and checked out several other piano repair web sites. And I'm glad I did. While all of them were basically giving the same information about removing a grand's action, each had different nuggets of "watch out for this". And following my credo of "do no harm" with Zelda, I took into account all the cautionary notes and finally did the deed around 3 PM today. It was a successful surgery...with nothing broken.

Since someone had previously be overzealous in screwing down the key stop rail which keeps the keys from falling out when you move a grand, it took a bit longer to expose the action and keys than I'd anticipated. I had to figure out a tool that would go deep enough into the hole they'd created and still remove the five posts that secure the rail without marring the rail and/or stripping the post screws.

While I was contemplating how to accomplish this task, I spent about an hour and cleaned the soundboard with a soundboard steel and cloth. That fine layer of dust accumulated over the years is pretty significant. When I was cleaning up after all was over this evening, the fresh vacuum cleaner bag was about a third full from the dust and debris that came out of Zelda's innards. And, of course, as long as they were fully exposed, I decided to clean the keytops, harp and keybed.

All the cleaning was delaying tactics, of course; but it came to me how to remove the key stop rail safely using two jewler's screwdrivers simultaneously. And finally, I was able to separate the action from the keys.

I'd been anticipating the worst for the three notes that wouldn't play; but as soon as I could see the keys, it was obvious what was going on. Somehow three balance rail pins had managed to pop out over the years and wander to another section of the piano (also probably accounting for that rattle around middle C). Fortunately, I found them all and was able to put them back in to their rightful home with new cloth punchings that came with the Randy Potter course materials. After putting the action and keys back together--presto, they worked.

Amazingly for a 100 year old instrument, there are no broken parts anywhere else. After I got the dust off everything, the action looked as if it could have come out of the factory only a year or so ago. Everything lines up, all the hammers are straight, backchecks all work, key tops are in incredible conditon, not a single broken wippen, dampers all seat well as does the sostenuto. Zelda is turning out to be in much better shape that I'd hoped.

Since my possible worst nightmare was turning into a dream, I had extra time so I decided to work on the hammers a bit. They're pretty hard with deep cut grooves so the sound is just a bit brittle to my ears. I don't have all the hammer shaping and voicing tools yet (nor enough knowledge) so, I decided just to take a wire brush to the hammer heads to soften them up a bit and get rid of the deep grooves.

Even that small correction makes an incredible difference. Zelda went from sounding tinny to having a lush warm voice -- especially in the base and mid-range. I can only imagine what she'll sound like once she's properly voiced.

I think next steps are just to enjoy playing her for a while as I continue working through the course materials. I'm exhausted; but it was a great day.