Memphis, Part 2 - Trying to Sing In Tune with an Out of Tune Piano
The piano had wheels, but they were very small and stiff, and, like the piano, over a hundred years old.
I had been in Memphis a few months, and without much of a social life to speak of, I was looking to buy an electric piano. But after a few weeks of half-looking for one, I hadn’t bought anything yet.
Then one day, I was driving down Lamar Avenue, in a rough enough part of town, when I saw to my left a piano. It was just standing there on the footpath on the side of the road, outside the storefronts of a row of businesses that looked like they had long gone out of business. Mind you, in poor parts of America, many places that look like they could not possibly be inhabited or open for business actually are.
Not only was this piano standing there, upright and unattended, but it had a piece of paper attached to it which read “FREE”.
It took about five or ten seconds of mental calculation before I decided that this opportunity was too good to pass up. I turned around, pulled in at a car park nearby, and tested the keys to see if the piano worked. It was somewhat out of tune, but not obnoxiously so, rather, endearingly so. Only one of the keys didn’t play!
Along with being out of tune, the dead key was another of the piano’s ‘malformities’ which were not so severe that the piano was a useless piece of junk, but actually, in a certain sense, they added to its value. These endearing defects were inseparably part of the piano’s identity; they formed part of who the piano was.
I obviously wanted to claim this piano as my own, but had a serious problem in the fact that upright pianos weigh 500-800 pounds, and aside from the piano’s weight, its size extended considerably beyond the limitations of my 2004 Ford Escape. I would have to rent a U-Haul van, and I had to call Tyler, a colleague, to help me to get the piano onto the U-Haul. My mind moving at a hundred miles an hour, as I had a limited amount of time to spare before running the next tennis session where I had to be on court, I felt that the piano could not be left unaccompanied while I went to get the van.
Tyler was about to start a shift of work, so I had to make a few additional phone calls to have him covered. With several people now in on the project, time was still very much of the essence, and the piano was still heavily on the ground.
After about forty minutes, I was back with the U-Haul, minus only about a hundred dollars. With the piano there, accompanied by Tyler to keep watch, the greatest hurdle in the acquisition of the piano had yet to be overcome: the piano had to be pushed up a steep metal ramp, which was just about wide enough for us to fit the piano on, side first. The piano had wheels, but they were very small and stiff, and, like the piano, over a hundred years old.
Also to be executed was about half an hour of driving that would have to be done with a van that was several times the size of anything I’d driven before. But my body and mind were electrified by the stress and excitement of what was unfolding. I was in a sort of manic state, ready to do anything to obtain this abandoned piano.
But mania alone cannot get you to push a heavy piano up a steep ramp. And this is where Michael, our guardian angel, came in. Tyler and I were doing our very best to get the piano up the ramp and onto the van, but we just weren’t strong enough.
Then, after a few minutes of us pushing in vain, a black man who looked to be in his sixties, wearing navy overalls, jogged across the road, having pulled in on the road’s opposite side. As he was coming towards us, I said to Tyler, hoping against hope, “he’s coming to help us”.
I said it and felt the powerful relief that the woman and her children feel in the film when the hero comes to save them, but when there’s still some suspense left in the story, as they haven’t yet been fully rescued. One is consoled by the strong possibility of safety, the glimmer of hope, the turning of the tide in what seems like an impossible set of circumstances, but there is one last battle yet to be fought, or an escape yet to be made.
When the man was closer, he said “My wife called and said y’all needed help”. He said it frankly and humbly.
I had obviously initiated this whole situation to begin with. When Tyler had arrived, he had taken charge of the mechanics of the operation, and had some rope and bungee cords to boot. Tyler had a background in the outdoors thanks to a youth involved in scout troupes and a lifelong pursuit of camping. He was able to use a rope, start a fire, and be resourceful, in contrast to my South Dublin suburban virginity in realms in any way related to the outdoors and all things practical and properly masculine.
But upon the man’s arrival, he was immediately given charge. He had the authority to direct the operation, not necessarily because he was an expert at wheeling pianos up ramps, but because he was wearing overalls. And he had a way about him. You could tell he worked with his hands. He had common sense. None of this was stated. It was assumed. It was accepted. He had wisdom.
He needed to take longer breaks than we did, but he probably lifted heavier, with what Tyler later called ‘that old man strength’. With plenty of grunting, some shouting of instruction, and much difficult heaving by the three of us, we finally managed to get the piano into the van. Success!
Once the piano was in, the man almost immediately started walking away. The millennial in me wanted to capture this moment in time. The man was about to leave, having given us priceless help, and we would more than likely never see or speak to him again. He had hardly spoken when we were together for those few minutes, apart from saying what was necessary.
I didn’t stoop as low as asking for a picture, but I did ask this man for his name: Michael.
Tyler and I were ecstatic with what had just happened, and unable to substantiate our gratitude, or repay the debt owed this man. I can’t remember if he even smiled. He probably did smile, but he certainly made no fuss.
On the drive back to the house, the piano rolled around and smacked into more than one of the walls of the van. I could not see into the cargo part of the van, but heard and indirectly felt the impact of the piano crashing around the place. At one point I had in my mind, and thought it quite possible as a reality, the image of the piano rolling all the way to the back of the large van and crashing through the shutter door, and onto the road below. But thankfully this did not happen.
I met Tyler back at the house, the battering and battered piano still in one piece. With the instrument wheeled back down the ramp and left outside to be brought in later, Tyler could leave to work the desk shift, and I could return the van and get my car before rushing to the tennis centre to run the junior tennis session. I was a couple of minutes late, but had a story to tell the children. Some of them aged only about five, I’m not sure if they valued this great accomplishment - the finding on the side of the road, and the acquisition, of a bona fide piano - as much as I did. But such is life.
When evening came, the piano still had to be lifted up a few rotting wooden steps onto the deck and into the house. My housemates Pau, Sam, and Harry, all members of the University of Memphis tennis team, were recruited for the final push. This less time sensitive operation, getting the piano from the driveway and into the house, was directed by another black living saint, Anthony Franklin, retired Memphis cop and godfather to many an international tennis player at Memphis over the last number of years.
Anthony was definitely on board to help, and came to the house specifically for this purpose, but the enthusiasm of the lads in the house was varied. Pau, from Spain, was fairly giddy and found the whole thing quite amusing. Sam, from Tasmania, didn’t seem too pushed one way or another, but gratefully accepted my purchasing of a torta from the Mexican restaurant down the road, Las Delicias, in return for his heavy lifting.
English Harry, on the other hand, was vocally disgusted by the whole thing. Harry wasn’t a bad lad, but could be moody, and his ire on this evening was directed towards this ‘filthy’ piano and the dirty Irishman who had acquired it off the side of the road in a run down part of a run down city.
But despite his angry protests at allowing this filthy piece of junk inside the house, it was hard for him to go against the rest of the party who didn’t necessarily care for the piano, but found the whole episode entertaining and were willing to spend a few minutes getting it inside.
So the piano became mine, just like that. All it took was a U-Haul truck. And a little help from my friends.
And Michael, a stranger, in a gesture I will never forget.
*****
“Trying to Sing In Tune with an Out of Tune Piano”
The first song linked below, a cover of “River” by Leon Bridges, is the first I ever recorded.
The second link is to a cover of “Folsom Prison Blues”. This was the second single recorded by Johnny Cash, and was recorded at Sun Studio, just two and a half miles down the road from where I found the piano (1688 US-78, Memphis, TN 38114).
The third link is to a cover of blues standard “Every Day I Have the Blues,” and I think it fair to say that that song’s playing is aided by a piano being out of tune.
HEADPHONES RECOMMENDED
Special thanks to the following people who made a six month spell in Memphis a very special one indeed:
Pranoop, Roopan, Noor and Zoravar Sandhu
Joe, Jamie, Eli, Ella and Owen White
Nick Laskaris
Ruel ‘Edu’ Leopardas
Anthony Franklin
Harry Rock, Pau Fanlo, Sam Edgar and Conor Gannon
Ann Sneed
Tyler Huss
Trip Wills
Jay Robillard
Jon Bell
Chip Malone
Alvin Abston
Alfonso Lee
Chris Holmes
Treena Williams
Dereica Little
Scott Lane
Steve Howell and the Eldon Roark crew
And Steve Smith, who made the whole thing possible in the first place.
Thank you for your time,
Fergus
What a story. Thanks for sharing. Memphis part 3 when?