Moonlighting
November 1, 2014
November is hunting season in upstate New York where my wife, Dorothea, and I have a home. And if it’s hunting season, then it’s time for our hunters to show up.
Several decades ago, three men—let’s call them Andrew, Bob, and Charlie—knocked on our door and politely introduced themselves. They told us that they worked as policemen in nearby Albany, New York, and asked whether they could hunt on our property. They offered to keep an eye on our place when we were gone and throw some venison our way if they had any luck. All three were very friendly and personable guys, and the mouth-watering thought of venison sausage with our morning eggs or venison steak along with the evening veggies proved irresistible.
We gave them the go-ahead to hunt on our steeply wooded hill.
I don’t think a single season has since gone by without the hunter’s November appearance and I always look forward to our friendly chats. I talk to them about playing the violin for a living and they talk to me about robberies, drug busts, and general mayhem in the inner city. And as often as not, a package of venison, or two, or three will be handed to us.
The hunters appear every year like clockwork, but one November stands out in my mind for the conversation I had with Charlie.
Charlie: “I see you have an upright piano in your studio.”
Arnold: “That’s right.”
Charlie: “Would you like me to tune it?”
Arnold: “What?”
Charlie: “Would you like me to tune it? It looks like a good piano, maybe a Steinway.”
Arnold: “It is a Steinway. But wait just a minute. You’re a cop. You deal with criminals, con artists, and lowlifes. How on earth do you know about pianos?”
I’ve known quite a few piano tuners and piano technicians over the years—among them a distinguished composer, a philosopher, a devout Buddhist, and a professional French horn player. But a cop?
I was flabbergasted. Along with learning how to shoot a gun, restrain a suspect, and apply handcuffs properly, did the Albany Police Academy also offer courses in piano tuning?
I demanded an explanation, which Charlie graciously supplied.
Charlie’s parents separated when he was young and his dad—let’s call him Fred—soon found himself in another relationship. The new lady in his life—let’s call her Alice—told him that she played the piano, and Fred thought it would be a great idea to buy her one as a surprise birthday present. Fred knew absolutely nothing about pianos, but he looked in the local paper’s classified ads and found one selling for fifty dollars. So he bought the piano, a very old upright and, with the help of a friend, lugged it in his pickup truck to his lady’s place.
In his ignorance, Fred thought that Alice was going to love it. But Alice did not love it. The piano was horribly out of tune, some of the keys and strings were missing, and its sound was small and tinny. Alice ordered the piano banished from her house and poor Fred suddenly had a very large piece of junk on his hands.
Not to worry, dear reader. Fred cleaned, sanded, and varnished the upright’s exterior, asked one hundred dollars for it in the same classified ads where he had bought it, and sold the piano for his asking price by the very next week. Now Fred suddenly saw dollar signs before his eyes if only he could learn how to repair and tune pianos.
No problem.
He sent away for a Learn- How-To-Tune-A-Piano-By-Mail course, and within months Fred was making enough money buying, selling, and tuning pianos to consider quitting his day job.
What’s good for the father is good for the son. Fred taught his son, Charlie, how to tune pianos and told him that come what may in life, Charlie would always be able to depend on this skill for a source of extra income.
Charlie looked up at me, smiled, and asked once again: “So, would you like me to tune your piano?”
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Comments
so did he tune it, and how was it?
Reminds me of my friend Stan. An Eastman piano grad in the 60s, he didn’t find stable work so through a series of events became a police captain in Brighton NY. He had two Steinways but loved baroque music. We became friends and he would always show up in a sqaud car on his lunch hour to test drive the harpsichords that I built at the time. Sitting their with his badge and Smith & Wesson he would play Bach from memory for hours. Neighbors always wondered what was up with my place!
Loved this one! Last year I played recitals in Paris, Cordoba and Marbella with a wonderful pianist whose “day gig” is with the FBI. When we prepare for recitals we always try to arrange rehearsals in a location where we can hunt during the process. (Gourmet venison recipes exchanged). It goes something like this: We hunt in the early morning, come in for breakfast, then rehearse until about 3:00. Then, we go out again for the evening hunt. If we are not successful– we pay the price with more rehearsal. ;-)
One story from the road: During the Cordoba recital, a TV station showed up unannounced and filmed a bit as we performed— and to add insult to injury– put the clip on youtube without permission. Yipes! But– the real story is that the pianist apparently held a security clearance that meant the Feds always want to know details regarding his foreign travel. Within 24 hours, the video had found its way back to the FBI— who was so highly amused at seeing their colleague in this concert setting rather than in his usual persona that they sent it on up the chain to the Director! Smiles all around! haha
This one is a great story Maestro… so much fun!!! ;-)
Wonderful story! I like that badge, too. My hunch is that you politely refused Charlie’s offer to tune your piano.
It seems we all are hanging there to find out what was the next step in this delightful story (“Cops and Pianos”.) What did you say? What did he do? (or didn’t.)
So it seems a new story is just about to be born.(Loved the Badge.)
Dear Arnold: I only can say is that the best dinner i had ever with you and Dorothea was with venison steaks at Chatham! The complete story of this wonderful gourmet event with music is unique!
Love, Maru
Dear Arnold,
It seems that you, too, have a second career. I really enjoy your stories.
Dear Mr. Steinhardt,
This story is so fun! … never know what people have under their sleeves ;-) … my guess is you didn’t let him tune but i love to hear the outcome :-). Best regards.
I refused Charlie’s kind offer to tune my piano since we already had a local tuner doing an excellent job. How well would Charlie have tuned the piano? I guess I’ll never know.
Love this story, Arnold, and like your other readers, I, too, await the denouement. (I’ve never had venison; is it gamey?)
Meanwhile, it reminds me of the ice fishers who set up little camps on our frozen lake every winter. They drive their trucks out on the ice, make fires, and have family get togethers while awaiting a bite from the fish swimming around under the surface.
Two winters ago, my husband and I and two of our grandkids approached one pair of fishers and asked them a million questions, not just what were they fishing for but, “How do you know when the ice is thick enough to drive on?” “How do you know where the fish are?” “How can you make fires on the ice and not fear the warmth melting it eventually?” “Has anyone ever fallen in?”
They patiently answered our questions. Soon our toes got numb and we trudged back to our lakefront home on our snowshoes. They must have watched which house we returned to because just as it was getting dark, our doorbell rang and our fisher friends brought us the best of their catch, some beautiful bass, which our son-in-law promptly fried up for our dinner. My fork has known no fresher fish!
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