Although the term ‘piano tuner’ has been used almost exclusively heretofore, the job entailed far more than simply tuning pianos. Some clavichords and harpsichords were still in existence in 1838, although the Victorian obsession with invention and innovation almost rendered both instruments extinct: they were saved only by the efforts of people such as Broadwood’s own A.J. Hipkins who were the trailblazers of today’s ‘authentic performance’ movement. Hipkins began at Broadwood’s in 1840, was a senior workman by 1849 and became Henry Fowler Broadwood’s right hand man by the 1860s. Wainwright says:
It can be claimed of Hipkins that he more than any other man was responsible for the revival of ‘ancient instruments’. A fine executant himself, he virtually re-introduced the clavichord … He was also noted for his reintroduction of the Goldberg Variations, which he first played on a double-manual harpsichord in 1892. Hipkins began a trend that paved the way for his rival Arnold Dolmetsch, who built his first harpsichord in 1896.
Piano tuners of the day had to contend therefore with these relics of a bygone age whose owners often were not overly enthusiastic on spending money on them: and as the century wore on the remaining harpsichords and clavichords were getting older and older.
The range of pianos which the tuner was required to work on was breathtaking in itself: square piano production ceased in 1866, but even by 1913 the average piano tuner was still required to carry out tunings and repairs to these instruments. Grand pianos remained largely unchanged in their action and design apart from the major factor of the full iron frame. Iron bracing had been in use to withstand the increasing demands for brighter sounds (and therefore higher tension) since the 1840s: an innovation to which both Broadwood and the French maker Erard laid claim. However, in 1843 Jonas Chickering in America patented the full iron frame which would change the face of the piano for ever. Coupled with Henry Steinway’s patent in 1859 of the overstrung piano, the demands which had been placed on the instrument by composers such as Beethoven through to Liszt would no longer lead to broken instruments.
The tuning and repair of such instruments was no longer such a trial, but only those who tuned in the factories would be working on these all the time: the average tuner working in the client’s home was faced with a myriad possibilities when it came to the instrument he might be called upon to tune. Nowadays, the tuner is generally faced with a choice of either upright or grand when called to visit: within that framework there are quite a few possibilities – and anomalies, such as the early instrument enthusiast or the owner of a ‘mini-piano’, which are awkward or time-consuming to tune. The Victorian tuner was working in an age of constant experimentation and innovation, and some instruments, which one can only describe as outlandish, were invented and consequently purchased: in 1866, Charles Hess of the USA was granted a patent for his ‘Convertible Bedroom Piano’, which was basically like a large square piano with a pull-out bed at floor level, bureau cabinets and drawers round it, and space for bed clothes, washbowl, pitcher and towels, which additions, he averred, ‘adds considerably to its reverberatory power’.
The Victoria and Albert Museum now houses ‘The Euphonicon’, a harp-shaped piano built and patented in 1841 by Dr John Steward. The combination of piano and harmonium was attempted quite regularly and presumably these instruments were sold and subsequently required tuning. Where one would begin with such an instrument as that made by Alexandre of Paris in 1854 which incorporated 3 manuals, 16 stops and a pedal board in addition to the usual piano action and strings, one can only guess.
In 1896 Zender sold an upright piano combined with a music cabinet capable of holding 1,000 pieces of music which also boasted a music stand suitable for a singer or instrumentalists at either end: ‘not only a great improvement in the appearance of the pianos, but of distinct value in augmenting the tone.’ The advertisement also boasts of having sold 200 of these instruments over the last two months. Heavy Victorian cabinet work was bad enough to remove and to manipulate, but the idea of the tuner having to relocate 1,000 pieces of sheet music into the bargain evokes pity in this particular tuner’s breast.
Much as plastic was regarded as the wonder material to solve every technical problem in the 1960s, so rubber – or gutta percha, as it was more commonly known – was the miraculous cure-all of the Victorian age. Consequently, the pianos of that time were invaded by gutta percha: C.P. Venables patented the process of covering piano-hammers in gutta percha in 1885 to protect them from damp, ‘especially applicable to pianofortes exposed to varying temperatures’. J. Spear in 1847 proposed the insertion of india-rubber between moveable parts ‘to prevent noise’. 1857 saw T. Rolfe’s application to patent ‘vulcanized or plain india-rubber in place of wire for a ‘check’ while in 1869 Brewer suggested ‘india-rubber tubes for under-coating of bass hammers’, and in 1870 Lambert proposed ‘india-rubber springs for action. In 1874, Whiteman, evidently scorning the timid approach, wanted india-rubber used instead of felt in every part of the action. Even the respected piano historian, Rimbault, said that:
gutta percha before papering, it would effectively deaden all sounds from the adjoining chambers. Or, we believe, a substitute for this is the gutta percha lining, extensively used of late years in covering damp walls.’
This obsession with india-rubber must have led to considerable problems for the tuners encountering the instruments thirty or forty years after the piano’s production, since just as the plastic of the 1960s seemed as though it would be unaffected by age and then suffered fatigue, so the india-rubber began to perish, meaning the tuner had to replace the rubber with felt whenever possible.
In the realms of normal factory-produced pianos, a tuner working in, say, 1895 could quite feasibly encounter any of the following in his day-to-day calls:- clavichords; harpsichords; square pianos; straight-strung grand pianos; over-strung grand pianos; upright grands (‘These were … [pianos] hoisted up vertically on a box with four legs, the mechanism causing the hammers to strike through the space left, as in the Horizontal Piano, between the sound-board and the pin-block’; cabinet pianos (very similar to the modern upright); and the upright (both straight- and over-strung and over-and-under-damped: the first uprights dated from around 1801).
In most industries, a new invention can herald – after an initial flurry of newly created employment – eventual unemployment. This, however, did not apply when the pianola became the new acquisition which every modern family must have. Rather than making tuners redundant the pianola created more work on more counts: firstly, it had new mechanisms based on pneumatics which led to books such as From Piano Tuner to Player Expert by M.H.E. Drake being sold in vast numbers to tuners eager to climb aboard this new bandwagon; secondly, the player piano’s invention in 1900 suddenly permitted those whose knowledge of music was negligible to astound their friends and family as well as becoming the owner of the latest fashionable acquisition. Tuners therefore found themselves with a new clientele which they would not otherwise have had and a new source of income, provided they became conversant with the pneumatics involved. Also, the pianola introduced more men to the piano world, which hitherto had been regarded more as the preserve of women and professional musicians: advertisements often featured men seated at the pianola in an attempt to appeal to this new corner of the market.
Men were believed more likely to be interested in – indeed, to understand – the new and exciting world of science and technology to which this invention belonged. Also, time was a factor: The Musical Opinion for January 1903 quoted the Chicago Indicator on the subject:
Another cause of the rise of the player [piano] proceeds from our American habits of economising time. Our citizen loves music, but he has no time to spend in studying a complex technique.
The electric motor’s subsequent arrival meant that piano tuners also needed some rudimentary electrical knowledge, but the consolation was that women and children now found the pianola easier to work; it was used more, became out-of-tune faster and therefore the tuner had to come more often.
Advertisements for tuners seeking employment – and being sought – often mentioned harmoniums and American organs, so it would seem it was often the task of a piano tuner to tackle those instruments too. ‘PIANOFORTE TUNER (experienced) from Cadby’s seeks an ENGAGEMENT. Understands Harmoniums’ reads one such advertisement. Another seeks ‘an experienced Pianoforte, Organ and Harmonium tuner’.
To facilitate the transition from tuning these instruments, Alexander J. Ellis published Easy Rules for Tuning Organs and Harmoniums in Equal Temperament which is ‘now presented in a greatly improved form … it will be found valuable even to pianoforte tuners …’
The advertisements for tuners’ situations give a good idea of the state of tuning in 1879 – no advertisement appears two months running, implying that positions were filled with alacrity. One tuner offers his ‘tuning connection to be let or for sale’. Some employers seem to require an awful lot: ‘WANTED: Pianoforte and Harmonium Tuner and Repairer. Good violinist who can lead small orchestra preferred’.
By 1913 the advertisements have not changed much, but the harmonium requirement has been supplemented by the player piano: – ‘WANTED, for the North of England, thoroughly experienced repairer and regulator of Pianos and Organs with good knowledge of Players and Bench repairs’.
From: Gill Green MA
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