As I write this, I’m expecting, and will soon be delivering a piano — to me, by me.
In fact, I’m hoping that by the time you read this, I’ll have it home.
Reader and new friend Chyrle Kyritz noticed, in a previous column of mine, my passion for old pianos — especially for preventing them from being hauled to the dump.
I swear there should be jail time for that. That beautiful old-growth wood alone, so disrespectfully dumped. Just so wrong.
So, recently, when it came time for Chyrle to find a loving home for her dear old Heintzman upright grand, a family heirloom, she got in touch with me.
"Laurie, I’m in the middle of that retirement-years downsizing thing, and I’m hoping you can help me rehome my beloved old piano," she said.
"It’s been part of our family for five generations, has lots of great music left in it and needs not only to be appreciated, but played!"
I popped by for a look, and was immediately beamed straight back to the ’60s.
It is so much like the piano we had in our home when I was a kid living on Library Place in St. James.
Chyrle filled me in on some of the history of this handsome old Heintzman.
The piano was purchased new from Eaton’s (Winnipeg) back in the 1930s by her grandmother, Lorna Henry.
Lorna was a young widow raising four children.
She wanted a piano for her kids, was low on cash flow, so she bought the piano on Eaton’s revolving credit plan, payments to be made monthly.
Her beautiful new piano was delivered on mud and gravel roads, in winter, by sled, to Lorna’s home in Transcona.
Before long, tough times got tougher, and Lorna simply couldn’t keep up with the payments.
Eaton’s threatened to repossess the piano, which did not go over well with the kids, especially Chyrle’s father, Ken.
He decided if Eaton’s was going to take the piano back, they weren’t going to get it back in pristine condition, so he cut something in the piano, disabling the lowest note, which remains mute to this day.
Mischief.
Despite their threats, Eaton’s never did come for the piano, no doubt a great relief to one very hard-working single mom and four very worried kids.
Lorna taught three of her four kids how to play that piano, one of them being Ken, who in turn taught his son Mike.
Tradition.
Mike was the last of the family line to regularly play the old Heintzman.
He now lives in an apartment where he prefers the convenience of a digital piano.
Still in beautiful condition, the piano bears a couple of tattoos common to the era it survived: a couple of burn marks from cigarettes left sitting while the music played.
Chyrle showed me a great old picture of a gang of family and friends gathered around the piano, singing their lungs out.
Back to finding it a good home,which turned out to be... MINE!
I love this old oak beauty, but what to do with the piano I already have — an apartment-sized version and another downsizing gem?
The timing couldn’t be better!
I have a good friend who just bought a house a block from my humble abode.
She was plinking on my piano one day, talking about having taken some lessons years ago, and would maybe like to get a piano again someday, so I gave her mine. Perfect!
I will be moving the Heintzman home very soon, atop my car trailer, additional muscle provided by son Lyle.
The big brute I’m now referring to as "Heintz" has previously moved from Transcona, to Elmwood, west to St. Francois Xavier and now back east to Headingley, where my grandkids, and cats, will play the dickens out of it.
Let the music begin!
Comments or feedback, love to hear from you!
lmustard1948@gmail.com
