Otherways- Fiction Fanatics

The player piano was once the mechanized entertainment wonder of the world. Despite the fact that it had neither strobe lights, nor a disco ball, and that it cost a small fortune in the money of the time, everyone wanted a player piano.

Modern people probably wonder why they even bothered. After all, the thing could only play the delicate paper reels you’d bought for it, and each boxed song was larger than a waiting wand at Olivander’s. Plus the machine itself weighed…well…a lot.

The MP3 player is an improvement, don’t get me wrong. For one thing, it is far easier to carry around. Then of course, there is the huge variety of music available, and the ease of finding and ordering new music. And the cost. We mustn’t forget the cost.

There is something deeply elegant about the player piano, though.

Like most people, you won’t know how very cool they are if all you see is the surface.

Seventeen of the engineering marvels, most in advanced stages of disrepair, ended up abandoned in a storage facility belonging to a friend of ours. Fortunately, he didn’t have the heart to simply burn the remains, so we’ve been slowly dismantling the worst of them and salvaging what can be salvaged.

For one thing, all the keys are covered in thin sheaths of actual ivory harvested well before 1926. While I wholeheartedly embrace the ban on trading in ivory, salvaging this to repair antiques is very useful. Since each batch comes with the serial number of the piano it was taken from, plus photos, its origin as salvaged material can be easily proved.

While I find the ivory to be tragically beautiful, it is the interior workings of the pianos that are so amazing. Hand carved wooden hammers, clad in dense sheaths of felted wool once struck the strings within. Most are powered pneumatically, with a bellows motor powered by air forced through it by the person pumping the foot pedals. A few sport intricate clockwork motors that translate the same foot action into mechanical movement, and look like something out of a steam punk fantasy.

Each individual key requires one of those hand carved hammers, several specially made leather washers, and yards of intricately arranged articulated wood to produce a single note.

It is a wonder of engineering, and even to my nature preferring eyes, quite beautiful.

Then, there are the unexpected treasures that lurk within. We’ve found a lot of dust, of course, and leaves. Abandoned mouse nests, ancient mud dauber nests, and the glistening remains of long dead beetles. We’ve also found perfectly preserved mummified mice, one in an improbable upright position, with each impossibly delicate bone in its tiny paws preserved. A lone milky blue-white marble, undoubtedly the possession of some long ago unwilling piano student, had lodged itself inside one decaying hulk, while we found a lovely 1926 penny laying amid the strings in another.

So far, only three have given up their secrets. I can’t wait to see what the others hold.

Cheers,

Michelle