Based as these accounts are on historical records captured in my diaries, the prehistoric period (roughly under the age of fourteen) does not afford an accurate indication of when I first developed an interest in the piano. But I am sure I was well under the age of fourteen, in fact closer to six or seven. The best I can recall is that I would find myself, when visiting the homes of people (usually adult friends of my parents) who were wise enough to have a piano (and in my opinion every home should have books and a piano), tapping on the ivories, and even being able to make a bit of music (by ear, of course). Whether it was this predilection or some deeper insight or motivation on the part of my parents which prompted me to go further, I do not know. Yet, at a tender age of about seven years at Horace Mann School in Washington, D.C., I found myself taking piano lessons. What was particularly extraordinary about these piano lessons is that we (the students) had no piano! Rather, we each had a cardboard keyboard (of about four octaves I expect), coloured black and white as you would imagine, which was of course two-dimensional only, and folded in the centre for ease of transportation (and practice, I suppose). I hardly need tell you how absurd it was to be “playing” the piano on a piece of cardboard! It is but a small step from this absurdity to the sentiment I have so often heard expressed by economically driven parents that, “We'll get him a good piano if he likes it.”! What is there to like about the piano except its sound!
The first real piano we had was the one which my parents bought (again, during the prehistoric period) when we lived in Alberta, and I was about ten or eleven years old. It was a Henry Herbert (made by Mason & Risch) upright, standard size, and cost about $900. My sister, Lindy, still has it in her home off the Driveway in Ottawa. My nieces now play and practice on it. That same piano today sells for about $3,500.
After I had begun attending the various educational institutions, I relied upon the pianos which were available in the great halls or music room dungeons. Since I was rapidly developing a particular yen for the grand piano, this meant that I gravitated to the great halls, where most of the grand pianos were kept for concerts. In many cases, the grands were secreted away in some off-stage corner (mounted on wheels), and even one was kept under lock and key in a fenced cage. But wherever they were, I managed to get to them, sometimes with the help of the local janitorial staff, and at other times quite surreptitiously. When I articled in Ottawa, even though I had my little Mason & Risch at my small apartment at Pezzalozzi College, I frequently visited the Chateau Laurier Hotel ballroom and played the piano kept there. I recall one particular occasion on which I was playing in the ballroom over a noon-hour, and I became aware that I had an audience of one. She was a very grand looking lady herself, seated in the remote end of the ballroom, wearing a large-brimmed summer hat which covered much of her face, in a long dress, hands cupped over the top of a parasol on which she seemed to be supporting the weight of her arms. We spoke very briefly after my “recital”, and I learned from her that she lived in the Hotel. While I did not take the liberty of exchanging names with her, I speculate to this day that she was the wife of the great Canadian photographer Karsh, who was known to maintain a residence in the Hotel.
After I arrived in Almonte, I did of course bring the Mason & Risch with me. But events began to unfold which would eventually bring to fulfilment my dream of having my own Steinway grand piano. The course of these events were to take place imperceptibly and over a long period of time.
The first real piano we had was the one which my parents bought (again, during the prehistoric period) when we lived in Alberta, and I was about ten or eleven years old. It was a Henry Herbert (made by Mason & Risch) upright, standard size, and cost about $900. My sister, Lindy, still has it in her home off the Driveway in Ottawa. My nieces now play and practice on it. That same piano today sells for about $3,500.
After I had begun attending the various educational institutions, I relied upon the pianos which were available in the great halls or music room dungeons. Since I was rapidly developing a particular yen for the grand piano, this meant that I gravitated to the great halls, where most of the grand pianos were kept for concerts. In many cases, the grands were secreted away in some off-stage corner (mounted on wheels), and even one was kept under lock and key in a fenced cage. But wherever they were, I managed to get to them, sometimes with the help of the local janitorial staff, and at other times quite surreptitiously. When I articled in Ottawa, even though I had my little Mason & Risch at my small apartment at Pezzalozzi College, I frequently visited the Chateau Laurier Hotel ballroom and played the piano kept there. I recall one particular occasion on which I was playing in the ballroom over a noon-hour, and I became aware that I had an audience of one. She was a very grand looking lady herself, seated in the remote end of the ballroom, wearing a large-brimmed summer hat which covered much of her face, in a long dress, hands cupped over the top of a parasol on which she seemed to be supporting the weight of her arms. We spoke very briefly after my “recital”, and I learned from her that she lived in the Hotel. While I did not take the liberty of exchanging names with her, I speculate to this day that she was the wife of the great Canadian photographer Karsh, who was known to maintain a residence in the Hotel.
After I arrived in Almonte, I did of course bring the Mason & Risch with me. But events began to unfold which would eventually bring to fulfilment my dream of having my own Steinway grand piano. The course of these events were to take place imperceptibly and over a long period of time.
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It began, oddly enough, with a course which I was giving called “Law and the Layman”, the very name of which gives some idea how long ago that was (the politically incorrect use of “layman”!). It was a ten week course covering a wide variety of legal subjects, each of the lectures being delivered in the basement of St. Paul's Anglican Church to about thirty auditors, who had paid about $30 to Algonquin College for this so-called “continuing learning” course. Most of the them were “older” people who had some creditable interest in wills, estate planning, selling a home, etc. Each lecture was followed by a question-and-answer period, and not uncommonly, we ran out of time to consider all the details and possible ramifications of each question. I therefore invited anyone who wished to pursue the matter in more depth to call me at my office to arrange a “private tutorial” for which there would be no charge. One of the people who took me up on this invitation was Mrs. Annie Johnson, the widow of the late Dr. Johnson from Carleton Place. Dr. Johnson, I was to learn, had been a Client of Raymond Jamieson. However, at the time I first met Mrs. Johnson at the lectures, I had no clue about who she was. When she attended at my office to “follow-up” on one of her questions, I discovered to my surprise that it was her husband who had originally employed Dr. Frank Glassow (father of my friend, Nicholas Glassow, from St. Andrew's College) when Dr. Glassow first came to Canada from England. In fact, I heard Dr. Glassow speak of Carleton Place and Dr. Johnson on more than one occasion, but I never imagined that years later I would be sitting in this funny old law office staring Dr. Johnson's widow in the face!
As things transpired, Mrs. Johnson and I came to like one another, and she was even kind enough to invite me to her lovely stone home on the River in Carleton Place for dinner. It was there that I first played her Heintzman grand piano. To cut to the quick, Mrs. Johnson eventually passed away, and I was retained by her brother, Mr. George Thompson, to settle her estate. When the subject of selling Mrs. Johnson's house came up, I suggested to George that he retain the agency services of my good friend, James R. McGregor. When Jimmy was later at the home writing up the listing agreement with George, Jimmy called me from the house to advise that George had asked Jimmy if he had any idea about what to do with the grand piano. Jimmy informed George that I was a pianist, and perhaps I would be interested. When Jimmy asked me this, I was of course “interested”, but I had my reservations about being able to pay for a grand piano. Jimmy informed me that George had obtained an appraisal of the piano by Southeby's and would be prepared to sell it for that price - one thousand dollars! Well, I jumped at the offer, and within a matter of days, four hearty men were transporting the grand into my home, and removing the Mason & Risch to my sister's place.
The Heintzman was a truly beautiful piece of furniture, with enormous carved legs and lovely soft brown cabinet. It even came with a matching mahogany bench. The trouble with it, however, was that it had been through a fire. Actually, it had not been through the fire, but what it had been through was almost as bad. As the story goes, when the fire erupted in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Johnson, the firemen, upon arriving at the scene, were encouraged by the homeowners to take a particular interest in the Heintzman. The firemen apparently doused the piano with untold volumes of water, and then removed it from the house to the out-of-doors. The problem with this was that it was the middle of winter, and the water promptly froze and cracked the sound board. So while there was no real damage to the cabinet, the sound board had needed to stitched together with some bands of some kind. The other significant (and deleterious) feature of the Heintzman was that it was
It began, oddly enough, with a course which I was giving called “Law and the Layman”, the very name of which gives some idea how long ago that was (the politically incorrect use of “layman”!). It was a ten week course covering a wide variety of legal subjects, each of the lectures being delivered in the basement of St. Paul's Anglican Church to about thirty auditors, who had paid about $30 to Algonquin College for this so-called “continuing learning” course. Most of the them were “older” people who had some creditable interest in wills, estate planning, selling a home, etc. Each lecture was followed by a question-and-answer period, and not uncommonly, we ran out of time to consider all the details and possible ramifications of each question. I therefore invited anyone who wished to pursue the matter in more depth to call me at my office to arrange a “private tutorial” for which there would be no charge. One of the people who took me up on this invitation was Mrs. Annie Johnson, the widow of the late Dr. Johnson from Carleton Place. Dr. Johnson, I was to learn, had been a Client of Raymond Jamieson. However, at the time I first met Mrs. Johnson at the lectures, I had no clue about who she was. When she attended at my office to “follow-up” on one of her questions, I discovered to my surprise that it was her husband who had originally employed Dr. Frank Glassow (father of my friend, Nicholas Glassow, from St. Andrew's College) when Dr. Glassow first came to Canada from England. In fact, I heard Dr. Glassow speak of Carleton Place and Dr. Johnson on more than one occasion, but I never imagined that years later I would be sitting in this funny old law office staring Dr. Johnson's widow in the face!
As things transpired, Mrs. Johnson and I came to like one another, and she was even kind enough to invite me to her lovely stone home on the River in Carleton Place for dinner. It was there that I first played her Heintzman grand piano. To cut to the quick, Mrs. Johnson eventually passed away, and I was retained by her brother, Mr. George Thompson, to settle her estate. When the subject of selling Mrs. Johnson's house came up, I suggested to George that he retain the agency services of my good friend, James R. McGregor. When Jimmy was later at the home writing up the listing agreement with George, Jimmy called me from the house to advise that George had asked Jimmy if he had any idea about what to do with the grand piano. Jimmy informed George that I was a pianist, and perhaps I would be interested. When Jimmy asked me this, I was of course “interested”, but I had my reservations about being able to pay for a grand piano. Jimmy informed me that George had obtained an appraisal of the piano by Southeby's and would be prepared to sell it for that price - one thousand dollars! Well, I jumped at the offer, and within a matter of days, four hearty men were transporting the grand into my home, and removing the Mason & Risch to my sister's place.
The Heintzman was a truly beautiful piece of furniture, with enormous carved legs and lovely soft brown cabinet. It even came with a matching mahogany bench. The trouble with it, however, was that it had been through a fire. Actually, it had not been through the fire, but what it had been through was almost as bad. As the story goes, when the fire erupted in the home of Dr. and Mrs. Johnson, the firemen, upon arriving at the scene, were encouraged by the homeowners to take a particular interest in the Heintzman. The firemen apparently doused the piano with untold volumes of water, and then removed it from the house to the out-of-doors. The problem with this was that it was the middle of winter, and the water promptly froze and cracked the sound board. So while there was no real damage to the cabinet, the sound board had needed to stitched together with some bands of some kind. The other significant (and deleterious) feature of the Heintzman was that it was
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about seventy years old (each piano has a number inside the cabinet which can be used to track the date of manufacture), and that meant that the wood was drying out and this caused the strings to requiring repinning so the strings would keep their tensile position. Since, as I have stated earlier, my prime interest in a piano is not its cabinetry but rather its sound, it was but a short time before I had engaged the services of Lauzon Music in Ottawa to refit the piano. So, before long, it was again being moved out of the home to the City for the work. I cannot recall exactly what the cost of the refitting was, but about $4,500 - $5,000 should be close. The work, by the way, was strictly mechanical, nothing cosmetic.
For years, I enjoyed my Heintzman, but I never lost sight of getting a Steinway. I frequently found myself on a Saturday afternoon wandering about Kenny Lauzon's store on Richmond Road in Ottawa, trying out one piano after another. Lauzon, by the way, is to my knowledge the exclusive Steinway dealer in eastern Canada, including Toronto and Montreal. I remember years ago seeing Steinways for sale at Eaton's College Street; and at some non-descript store on the eastern extremity of St. Catharine's Street in Montreal. But no longer. Now, the only act is in Ottawa. And Lauzon has his talent of selling them down to a fine art.
One might think that the only people who buy Steinways are people with money. Or orchestras, for example. This is not in fact true. I reckon that most people who buy Steinways are people who love pianos, and that includes music students and piano teachers. And people like me. During the course of my visits to Lauzon's, Kenny would regularly remind me that he was interested in buying the Heintzman if I ever decided to sell it. After all, his people had done the restorative work on it, so they knew the piano. One dreadfully rainy Thursday night when I had nothing better to do, I pointed the nose of my new Buick Riviera towards Ottawa and headed off somewhat aimlessly. Considering the inclemate weather, I did not fancy the idea of walking about the streets, especially alone, so I thought I would take a chance on seeing Kenny on what promised to be a quiet Thursday night. It quickly became apparent that I was on a mission. Kenny encouraged me to try every one of the Steinways that he had, and after I had settled on one (much the same way one might settle on a catalogue love affair), we retired to his office to talk business. He began by asking me what I wanted for the Heintzman. I rebuffed this gambit, since I knew the only thing that mattered was the cash difference between the two pianos. When he then began telling me what he wanted for his piano, I just stood up and started out of the room. He waved his arms, and shouted to me to come back and sit down. Which I did. Then he told me what he would have to have in cash plus my piano. I stood up again, and we replayed the same scenario. We must have done this about six times, and each time we slowly crunched the cash amount to a point where he was saying to me, “All-right, are you telling me that you will have a certified cheque for $20,000 tomorrow?”. I said I would, and on that basis we concluded the paper-work for our transaction, which of course included the $15,000 credit for the Heintzman (sans the bench, which he had also wanted). This rather vulgar dealing was hardly the way I had imagined years before that I would purchase a Steinway. In my imagination, I had always thought that one day I would visit Eaton's College Street in a pair of jeans, and just when the staff was rushing over to tell me to remove my greasy little fingers from the mahogany, I would flip them a business card and tell them, “Put a red ribbon on it, and deliver it to this address!”. However, such is life. Those momentous moments that one imagines never seem to materialize. Yet, when the piano finally did arrive at my home in Almonte, and after the men had taken their leave (and the old Heintzman), I waited to hear the sound of the disappearing truck. Then I sat down before my new Steinway and played it. It practically played itself, the sound was so beautiful. After I finished one song, I just stood up, somewhat exhausted, pulled in a deep breath and said, “WOW!”. I still feel that way about her to this day!
about seventy years old (each piano has a number inside the cabinet which can be used to track the date of manufacture), and that meant that the wood was drying out and this caused the strings to requiring repinning so the strings would keep their tensile position. Since, as I have stated earlier, my prime interest in a piano is not its cabinetry but rather its sound, it was but a short time before I had engaged the services of Lauzon Music in Ottawa to refit the piano. So, before long, it was again being moved out of the home to the City for the work. I cannot recall exactly what the cost of the refitting was, but about $4,500 - $5,000 should be close. The work, by the way, was strictly mechanical, nothing cosmetic.
For years, I enjoyed my Heintzman, but I never lost sight of getting a Steinway. I frequently found myself on a Saturday afternoon wandering about Kenny Lauzon's store on Richmond Road in Ottawa, trying out one piano after another. Lauzon, by the way, is to my knowledge the exclusive Steinway dealer in eastern Canada, including Toronto and Montreal. I remember years ago seeing Steinways for sale at Eaton's College Street; and at some non-descript store on the eastern extremity of St. Catharine's Street in Montreal. But no longer. Now, the only act is in Ottawa. And Lauzon has his talent of selling them down to a fine art.
One might think that the only people who buy Steinways are people with money. Or orchestras, for example. This is not in fact true. I reckon that most people who buy Steinways are people who love pianos, and that includes music students and piano teachers. And people like me. During the course of my visits to Lauzon's, Kenny would regularly remind me that he was interested in buying the Heintzman if I ever decided to sell it. After all, his people had done the restorative work on it, so they knew the piano. One dreadfully rainy Thursday night when I had nothing better to do, I pointed the nose of my new Buick Riviera towards Ottawa and headed off somewhat aimlessly. Considering the inclemate weather, I did not fancy the idea of walking about the streets, especially alone, so I thought I would take a chance on seeing Kenny on what promised to be a quiet Thursday night. It quickly became apparent that I was on a mission. Kenny encouraged me to try every one of the Steinways that he had, and after I had settled on one (much the same way one might settle on a catalogue love affair), we retired to his office to talk business. He began by asking me what I wanted for the Heintzman. I rebuffed this gambit, since I knew the only thing that mattered was the cash difference between the two pianos. When he then began telling me what he wanted for his piano, I just stood up and started out of the room. He waved his arms, and shouted to me to come back and sit down. Which I did. Then he told me what he would have to have in cash plus my piano. I stood up again, and we replayed the same scenario. We must have done this about six times, and each time we slowly crunched the cash amount to a point where he was saying to me, “All-right, are you telling me that you will have a certified cheque for $20,000 tomorrow?”. I said I would, and on that basis we concluded the paper-work for our transaction, which of course included the $15,000 credit for the Heintzman (sans the bench, which he had also wanted). This rather vulgar dealing was hardly the way I had imagined years before that I would purchase a Steinway. In my imagination, I had always thought that one day I would visit Eaton's College Street in a pair of jeans, and just when the staff was rushing over to tell me to remove my greasy little fingers from the mahogany, I would flip them a business card and tell them, “Put a red ribbon on it, and deliver it to this address!”. However, such is life. Those momentous moments that one imagines never seem to materialize. Yet, when the piano finally did arrive at my home in Almonte, and after the men had taken their leave (and the old Heintzman), I waited to hear the sound of the disappearing truck. Then I sat down before my new Steinway and played it. It practically played itself, the sound was so beautiful. After I finished one song, I just stood up, somewhat exhausted, pulled in a deep breath and said, “WOW!”. I still feel that way about her to this day!
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