But This Time, Ricard Did Help! True Dat!
Maurizio Pollini, with whom Pro Piano Hamburg Steinway D-274 Grand Pianos and I toured for most of the 80s, was incredibly important to Pro Piano and to me, personally. Accompanying Maestro Pollini, almost annually we traveled over his circuit which was not limited to but almost always included sold-out appearances in Carnegie Hall, New York, Symphony Hall, Boston, Orchestra Hall, Chicago, Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, Los Angeles, Kennedy Center, D.C., Music Hall, Philadelphia, Davies Hall, San Francisco, etc. Maurizio Pollini was extremely discerning in Hamburg Steinway Model D-274 grand piano selection, and also in hotel selection.
So through those many tours, I too honed my appreciation and expectations for the finest North American 5 Star hotels. However, Mr. Pollini’s discernment also extended to black-out darkness and complete silence, and importantly …so does my own. In case his preferred suite was unavailable he would move from one to another, or even switch hotels if his quarters could not be absolutely dark and absolutely silent. A sensitive if stern gentleman, his concerns were also that others not be disturbed by his long and intense practice habits.
One time, staying at the Beverly Hills Hotel, we happened to be swimming laps in its Olympic sized pool. Passing one another in adjoining lanes, he abruptly stoped me and sincerely asked, mentioning such a thing for the first time ever, “But could’t you lower the prices just a little?” As I recall, my always deflective “Ho, Ho, Ho” response ruled that moment, and we resumed swimming.
But latter that same tour, back inside America’s First Mecca of Hamburg Steinway Model D-274s, Pro Piano Headquarters on Jane Street, New York City, 10014, whilst Steinway itself was still trying to convince artists that NY and Hamburg pianos were the same; ergo, no need to request (or import) Pro Piano instruments from the Hamburg factory, Mr. Pollini visited to select a piano …though he almost always preferred the same aging instrument year after after year, we were briefly reminiscing as he practiced, and I reminded him of our Beverly Hills Hotel pool conversation and jokingly said, “Now I’ve seen you as an artist, an athlete and a businessman,” to which he roared with knowing laughter.
But here’s a Maurizio Pollini adjacent incident unparalleled in the entire classical music universe: Mr Pollini, especially on initial rehearsal-laden days of an orchestral soloist engagement, routinely came very early to the hall to practice on stage before orchestra members began arriving. Well, that means what? It means your fearless correspondent, RDLR, had to be at the hall preparing the piano, probably 5-hours before his arrival …let’s say at 3-4 am to be accurate.
On one infamous day, previously blessed from many encounters at Symphony Hall in Boston, to have been given a master key to that hallowed building …a key which granted literal 24-7 access, having routinely let myself into the building, I was tuning wildly away, when suddenly, pumnng, the steel shaft of my tuning lever broke cleanly at the tuning-tip …a star socket that threads onto the tuning lever shaft, one used throughout the entirety of any piano tuning procedure. My heart sank …yet its heartbeat hastened …lips pursed …thoughts congealed with terror, fear and catastrophic realization!
In that long ago pre-digital communications era, nothing worse could have befallen me. There was no place to run …no place to turn …no cell phones …nobody to help me and …I knew nobody to call, anyway.
Fortunately, having been in the hall scores of times, especially on breaks to the basement where the unionized but then still free thinking carpenters, mechanics, and everyone not administratively or musically involved denizened, I vaguely thought there’d been a welding machine.
Recalling that welder of course gave me a moment of glittering hope. Rushing downstairs, I discovered not only an acetylene welder, but an arc welder. As a kid, I’d seen enough welding to know which would be easiest for me, a complete beginner.
So gulp, grabbing a mask, gloves an electrode or two and an available welders’ clamp to hold it, I began clumsily arc-welding the busted-off tuning tip to its matching-grizzled tuning lever shaft, letting it cool a bit, tapping my work upon the steel work bench every once-in-a while to discern from each resultant sound how thoroughly, solidly, deeply my weld had cured, taken, or succeeded, repeating the process till the sound and the feel were moderately convincing.
BUT, the most horrific test was yet to come. Though it seemed an eternity, probably only an hour or so had elapsed. I needed to begin tuning again, with a patched-up, once-professional tuning lever. Fortunately, I knew there was (still now?) a lobby payphone, with huge phonebook, and of course it came with yellow pages advertising all kinds of things that included piano tuners. Yes phonebooks did it all back then.
I fumbled through the book, found a lady-tuner listed, left a message telling her what I faced, offered to leave $200 & 2 tickets at the backstage door, if she’d bring a tuning lever for me to use for the rest of the day. Of course I wondered when or if she’d even hear the message, and if she’d ever come, but … I HAD TO GO TRY TO TUNE THE PIANO …REPAIRED TUNING LEVER AND ALL.
I asked Seiji Ozawa’s driver my good friend Peppino to let the lady know where to claim her money and tickets, all to be left at the box office, and they’d take it from there. She came I was told, and was thrilled with the entire enchanted encounter.
Well, as a badge of pride, honor, valor and chutzpah, I used that repaired tuning lever for about another 3-years, without incident …though at all times I carried a spare. Finally, it broke again and rather than fearlessly resuscitating it, I eventually just wrote this true story for you.
Thank you! RIP Maurizio Pollini, herewith declared once and for all, “A Legendary Lifetime Pro Piano Artist. 201d Jan 5, 1942 – March 23, 2024