HOW I GOT MY NEW PIANO

I had been thinking about getting a new piano for about a year, I guess. I was beginning to be dissatisfied with the touch of my Kawai upright, which, although it was the nicest piano I had ever had, was not responding the way I wanted. It has a very limited range below piano, and also, it has a distinct buzz in a couple of notes in the higher octaves. Still, it sounds very nice, and the regulation is still excellent, and, if I play mezzo forte instead of mezzo piano, it is because I have to play piano for pianissimo.

So, anyway, I had been test driving fabulous pianos in the piano stores in town. Quarter of a million dollar Bechstein, a Steinway that played like warm butter, a nine foot Chickering from the old days of Chickering, and the usual run of Petrofs and Yamahas and Baldwins. I wasn’t interested in a shiny new Chinese piano, and realistically a shiny new piano isn’t in my entertainment budge.

Also, I wanted the grand piano action. Getting a new upright would nt solve my problem. But again, realistically, I can’t put even a baby grand in my apartment.

So, I wasn’t making any commitments.

But it never rains but it pours. I was in SDOPiano.com, down in Mission Vally, and started talking with Rick, there. He had a handful of grands he was trying to move, and I was still being tempted. He showed me three little grands he would trade me straight for my Kawai upright. Wow! What a decision. There was an old Baldwin, and old Aelolian, and an old Struck, in the back, with a very unattractive worn finish.

Boy! I tried them all, played my music on them, some Beethoven, the Wagner sonata, some Mozart, Donizetti’s Ricordanza, that demands really good tuning. They all had their good points and their bad points, except for the Aelolian which has no good points. The old Struck, from the 30s, was probably the best instrument. And what a deal….a straight trade! I was in a pickle. Still, they were 5 foot grands.

In the middle of all this decision making, I happened to be at a GSDBA social event at the Gossip Grill on University in Uptown, and had parked across the street. So, after a cocktail and a little glad handing, I headed out, and idly thought to check out the Baras Thrift store, right across the street. They had, from time to time, a piano, and I always check out the thrift stores, because you never know what you will find. I got my Kawai at the Salvation Army for a real deal. I had idly popped in, saw this shiny ebony upright with golden harp and scarlet felts and copper strings, and undented hammers…and my heart went pit-a-pat. I ran home, grabbed some bucks from the tin can under the bed, and raced back, because I knew it would not last there another hour. And it was the best thrift store deal I have ever gotten. But that is another story, in another thrift store.

In this thrift store, I once saw a pretty baby grand in maple, or oak, and thought about getting it. But my piano technician took one look at it and told me this horror story about a local piano tech who would oil the strings, thus effectively ruining them. He was expelled from the piano tech’s guild, but still held himself out and practiced in town. This was one of his instruments. I declined the purchase.

So getting back to the narrative present, I popped into Baras thrift store, and what to my wondering eyes did appear, but a square grand piano, setting there in display room, gathering dust, and surrounded by other thrift store stuff. Like and electron to a positive ion, I zipped over, and ran my hands over the keyboard. It was out of tune, but not wildly. I played up and down, the chromatic scales. Every key worked. I played four rapid staccato notes on each key. They all worked. I played the theme from the Diabelli Variations. This was a playable piano. I examined it. The cabinet was grimy. The instrument was obviously from the late 19^th century. But from all appearances, all the parts were there, and it all worked. The regulation was shot, of course, but there was only one missing piece I could see: the middle of three ornamental knurled nuts holding the damper stop bar. Not a functional deficit.

More later.