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.