Tag Archives: Photoplayer

CH. 6: DAVE HARTMAN, MENTOR

By Joe Rinaudo

Dave Hartman

CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4    CHAPTER 5

Chapter 6

The next several months working at Dave’s shop was my trial-by-fire learning experience on how to restore an American Fotoplayer. Dave’s knowledge of pneumatic (bellows) design and restoration was vast and it was hard to wrap my brain around this unique technology. I had so many questions on the basic mechanics of the Fotoplayer that the task of restoration was (in my mind) to say the least, daunting!


Every day (when I was not working at my job) was spent traveling the 11 miles to Dave’s house with a new restoration project for my Fotoplayer. Sometimes I would stay as late as 11:00 p.m. (as my passion to finish the project was very high). On several occasions Dave would invite me into his house for dinner or bring me a hamburger while I was working in his shop. Dave’s wife, Jennifer, was a great cook and made the best spaghetti and meatballs! After dinner Dave would show me how to restore the tracking devices (the things that made the piano roll line up evenly with the holes on the piano’s tracker bar). The tracker bar is the brass bar on the piano that has holes in it that must line up correctly with the holes in the paper piano roll.  We also restored the wind motors (which drive the piano roll over the tracker bar). In a Fotoplayer there are two trackers and two wind motors as a Fotoplayer has to have one for the top and bottom tracker bars. Several more weeks were spent restoring all of the related pneumatics that regulated the speed and volume of the piano as well as the expression pneumatics and control linkage which gave the operator full control of the piano’s performance.Fotoplayer stack

This shows the double roll playing mechanism, used on all American Fotoplayers. The tracker bars are the horizontal brass items in the center. All the pneumatics were rebuilt at Dave’s shop. Wine-colored motorcloth was used to restore the bellows.
But electric blue pullcords? Read on…

During a recent show I had pulled on the original leather cord and it snapped, somersaulting me back over the seat and onto the floor. Then it happened again with another cord (this time there were no acrobatics). Replacement leather pullcords were not to be found, so I asked around what material to use so the cords wouldn’t break, and the solution was mountain-climbing rope, and the only color available was vibrant blue. (I could pull with a force of 2500 pounds and it would not snap.) That remained on the Fotoplayer until I finally found the same rope in black, which has been crashing symbols and activating other sound effects to this day. Leather cord (strong enough for the purpose, anyway) simply doesn’t exist anymore.


Working at Dave’s shop was usually an interesting experience. His work bench, which sat in the middle of his shop, was always piled high with so many projects and tools that it was almost impossible to find any place (on it) to work. When I would arrive with my next project and ask Dave “Where might I work?”  he would always say (with a sly smile), “On the bench of course.” This meant my time would be spent excavating a small clearing in the mountain so I would have a small cavity to work in. This also meant that I would have to ask Dave where this tool, wood, cloth or glue bottle should go. Pretty soon I knew where items should live and would automatically perform this daily duty. Of course, when I would return the next day, my clearing would be gone! Like the shifting sands of the Sahara my work space would be only a memory.  Sometimes I think that Dave liked having me at his shop for two reasons. Reason one: to make a “clearing” for him to work in when I was not there. Reason two: To put his tools away!Dave's Workbench

This is Dave’s workbench today. Nothing’s changed in over 45 years, except it was piled even higher back then.


I remember that one day while I was working in the shop with Dave, the phone rang. I watched as Dave answered the call and listened for a short time then put the phone receiver down on a table and went back to work. After a few minutes he would go back to the phone pick it up off the table listen for a while and say “uh- ha” and put the receiver back on the table. I could hear someone talking very loudly on the phone while Dave was elsewhere in the shop working on something. After a few more minutes Dave would pick up the receiver and listen for a while then say “uh- ha, uh- ha, oh!” then put the receiver back down and make a pot of coffee (Dave always had a pot of coffee brewing in his shop).   This process with the receiver would be repeated a few more times. Then Dave would pick up the receiver and say, ”I gotta go! The shops on fire!” With that he would say a few more uh-ha’s and hang up the phone!  I said, “What in the hell was that all about?”  Dave told me that it was a customer who could talk nonstop forever and a day without taking a breath! Dave told me that the caller was a good customer and Dave didn’t want to insult him by trying to get off the phone too quickly. I asked Dave how did he know how long to make the intervals before he came back to listen? Dave said that this guy always asks the same question three times in three slightly different ways. “So, I listen in every 4 minutes or so to get the idea of how much longer the ordeal will last.” I then asked, “Have you ever been caught by not getting back quickly enough?” Dave said no, that he always positioned the work that he would do (while he was away) near enough to hear if the talking ever stopped. If it ever did, he said that he would rush back and wing it!


Dave and Jennifer had a little Pekinese dog named Tinker. Of course, Dave called her Stinker, my peek-and-sneeze! Sometimes in the wintertime, when I would be working late in the shop, Tinker would come in silently and lay on my feet. She kept my feet warm. I guess Tinker thought my feet seemed better than her dog house. This was mutually beneficial for both of us.


One time while I was working in Dave’s shop alone while he ran an errand. An older man walks into the shop, and without saying a word begins wiping saw dust off the table saw and then starts quietly sweeping the entire shop! Since the man never introduced himself, I thought it would be only fitting to inquire as to the purpose of his efforts. The man said that his name was Jim Sloan. Jim was Dave’s neighbor who was retired from the movie industry. So, when he was bored he would come over to the shop to clean and organize. Jim said that he knew that he always had a job at Dave’s shop. Jim said that the general confusion of this place guarantees him a lifetime of work! Jim had a funny accent. I asked him where he was from. Jim said that he was born in Minnesota. He said that his father had a general store and Jim always had chores to do like stocking shelves or chopping several cords of wood during winter for the store’s potbellied stove which was located in the middle of the store. He said that he had this work ethic which kept him always wanting to do something with his time.

I asked Jim what part of the movie industry he was in. He said that he was an assistant cameraman at M.G.M. Studios. I asked how did he get his start. Jim said that in the 1930’s he was the register boy at the sign in shack at the M.G.M. studio main gate. I said “You must have some interesting stories about your work.” Jim said that he got to meet some very famous actors at the sign in shack. I said that I love Laurel & Hardy and that I knew that the Hal Roach studios (which was next door to M.G.M.) used some of the sound stages at M.G.M. to film some of the Laurel & Hardy films. Jim said that one day he was at his sign-in station and here comes Laurel & Hardy in full costume! He said that they were in line with everybody else and when it came to their time to sign-in they caused quite a funny commotion. First Ollie comes up to the register, takes off his hat, twiddles his tie and smiles at the young Jim. With the other hand he takes the pen and with a great swirling of it in the air begins to sign with great flourish while Stan is dumbly looking on! Now everybody in the shack is laughing! When it is Stan’s time to sign, Stan looks puzzled at the prospect and begins to grab the log-in register and stares intently at it. Ollie slaps him on the shoulder and motions Stan to remove his hat. More laughing from the crowd. Stan removes his hat and begins a struggle with his body to get into just the right position to sign. The gyrations and contortions keep up so Stan can obtain just the right position to make what seems will be the signature of the century! With that he turns to a new page and drops a huge ink blot on it from the fountain pen. Rips out the damaged page placing it in his pocket and looks around sheepishly (hoping that no one is looking). Then proceeds to make a giant “X” on the new page. By this time Jim and everyone was laughing so hard that Laurel and & Hardy knew it was now time to make their exit. So, they tip their hats and slowly back out the exit door and then run away! Jim said “They were funny bastards! The funniest bastards that I had ever known!”  

By this time Dave had returned and the mood was what did get done in his absence? I was beginning to learn that being at Dave’s shop is teaching me more than just how to restore a Fotoplayer.

To be continued…

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Do You Have
EXPERTISE in NON-PROFITS?

Joe Rinaudo, founder of Silent Cinema Society, is currently forming a non-profit which he calls SCAT —Silent Cinema Art and Technology — to fund the restoration and preservation of the actual machines and media of the silent era.

Advice and suggestions in the area of non-profits are most welcome. Contact Joe Rinaudo here.

Through Silent Cinema Society, which is comprised of you, the fans and supporters of silent cinema, Joe will continue to enlighten and entertain with The Newsreel newsletter; this Silent Cinema Society website; and hopefully soon, live shows where audiences are once again able to wear big hats that block the screen. SCAT, the non-profit, will also support Silent Cinema Society so that information and entertainment will continue to be presented to you, silent cinema fans. Lady, will you please take off that big hat!

CH. 5: DAVE HARTMAN, MENTOR

Dear Reader:

My best friend and mentor Dave Hartman continues to feel much better, according to his wife Joanie. She attributes it to these stories, and I am truly humbled. Not only does he enjoy reliving our adventures, she says, but he is most delighted to share them with his daughters, who are fascinated to learn about their father’s mechanical ingenuity and how appreciated he has been by his colleagues and friends.

I am overjoyed that in my attempt to simply honor my best friend of forty-eight years. It has restored Dave’s spirit for life, and passion for tinkering. Joanie says it’s even put a bounce in his step.

It has been cathartic for me as well. I have learned many wonderful things from Dave over the years, and now he’s taught me something new, something profound: the importance of sharing memories with an old friend. It’s healing and heartwarming for everyone.

I deeply appreciate your coming along for the ride, *|FNAME|*. Here’s the next chapter about my best friend and mentor, Dave Hartman…

By Joe Rinaudo

Dave Hartman

CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3  CHAPTER 4

Chapter 5

So, I removed the valve chest from my Fotoplayer and put it in my Model A. On the drive over to Dave’s house, I wondered just what we might find as the cause of the poorly performing valve chest. When I arrived at Dave’s he told me to bring the car around back to the “shop.” There I discovered a large garage crammed with a lifetime of projects.  What a wonderful and magical place!

I brought the valve chest inside and placed it on the bench. Dave said that I must disassemble it for inspection. I removed the top half containing the valves and exposed the pouches. The pouches are little air-tight discs of very thin leather that inflate (when a note is played on the piano) that push up on the valve, sending vacuum to a small pneumatic (bellows) that collapses it (when vacuum enters) and pushes down on a push rod which opens another valve that lets wind into the pipe which makes the pipe “speak.” This is how the piano roll plays the organ. It is all a very convoluted contraption! Dave noticed that the rubber valves were red, like silicone, and not black rubber like all other American Fotoplayers. I was quite proud of these silicone valves as they were my secret weapon to make my valve chest play better than ever. Dave asked where I got these made.


Joe's first piano restoration

Here I am in 1970 with the first player piano I had rebuilt for a “customer.” The $300 profit helped me purchase my Fotoplayer, and the accomplishment gave me the confidence to try and restore it. Little did I know that a few years later Dave Hartman would show me the right way!


I told him that a friend of mine, Mr. Frank Cermack, had found a style 40 American Fotoplayer in the Optic theater in downtown Los Angeles. We had become Fotoplayer friends. He had given me just enough information about “restoration” to make me dangerous! Frank worked in the Skunkworks at Lockheed Aircraft as a tool and die maker. (The skunkworks was a top-secret department where things were built for the military.) Frank would never speak of what went on over there. Well, Frank had made molds and a set of valves for his Fotoplayer out of some very expensive military grade silicone. He did this on his lunch hour with extra steel for the molds and left-over silicone. (At least that is what he told me.) I was quite proud to have a set of these valves in my valve chest! Thinking all that was necessary for a great working valve chest were these government-sponsored valves.

Dave took one look at the pouches and said “This is all crap! Rip out the pouches and seal the wood!” I was horrified to hear such a diagnosis! Fotoplayer had pressed little trim rings around each pouch. I had very carefully removed these rings in an attempt to seal the pouches, and very carefully replaced them. Dave said “That’s unnecessary crap! Throw those worthless rings out!” I was very sad to see all of my hard work go into the trash can! Dave explained that the leather from the 1920’s had shrunk and was leaking, which causes the valves to also leak. Alas, the best laid plans of mice and me. Another big problem was the wood that the chest was made from, was seeping vacuum through to the next valve, and all of those air channels must be cleaned and sealed before replacing the pouches. I realized that the “Doctor” had spoken and was not sure what might happen next. Dave very patiently walked me through the steps for the proper restoration of the poor old valve chest.

After a few days my worst fears were allayed. The valve chest was working perfectly! Skunkworks valves and all.

The next thing was the pipe wind chest with all of the little pneumatics that make the organ play. I had tried to seal them and clean the little pushrods and pipe valves with talcum powder. Dave said “You’re really good at putting lipstick on a pig!” Dave showed me how to recover the pneumatics and rebuild the organ valves (which were made of felt and leather). He showed me how to seal the cracks in the wood to make the wind chest tight.

Joe with his Model A

Joe’s 1929 Model A Ford

All of this took several weeks and trips to his shop with my Model A. On one such occasion I was driving the Model A to Dave’s shop with another of the Fotoplayer projects when one of the most embarrassing moments of my life was just in the road ahead. I was tooling down at a pretty fast clip for a Model A (about 40 miles per hour!) when I entered a very large intersection which had some kind of a very sharp bump in the pavement. When my front wheels hit the event horizon of this Marianas Trench, I felt my front end come up off the ground with a resounding bouncing crash as I arrived back on earth. The car jumped up again as if I had run over something. As the car bounced back to the road, I heard an awful loud chugging sound as if I had no muffler! In my rear view mirror I saw that my muffler was skidding into the middle of the intersection. This now had stopped all traffic! So I pull over, out of the intersection, turned off the chugging beast and quickly opened the rumble seat to accept the muffler. As I ran back into the middle of the intersection (with car horns honking) my only thought was to get my muffler out of the way so as not to cause an accident and further damage to my muffler. As I grabbed the muffler, I suddenly realized that this was not the thing to do as it was red hot! I then screamed and threw the muffler straight up in the air. I began shaking my burned hands wildly and managed to just barely dodge the falling muffler! Now I can hear people in two of the nearby gas stations laughing and knew I had fingers pointing at me. Amid the honking horns and laughter, I hastily kicked the muffler back to my car, grabbed a rag and threw the offending muffler into the rumble seat. With that I took off with a thunderous roar!

When I finally arrived at Dave’s shop, He just looked at me with a muffler sticking out of my rumble seat and a car that sounded like a Harley on steroids, and said “What have you done now? I heard you several blocks away!” When I told him of my harrowing adventure, Dave said he was sorry that he had missed that. I then wondered how I was going to get home as part of my exhaust manifold had broken off and was still clamped on to the muffler! A friend had welded the manifold for me and he assured me that it would not break. Dave said “Your friend needs to go back to welding school.” What happened next was one of the magical things about Dave’s shop, which seemed to have anything you needed. In no time at all Dave had found a Model A exhaust manifold and the gasket set for it. This exhaust manifold was warped and that’s why he wasn’t going to use it on his Model A. Dave said “It’s always good to have spare parts for your old car.” Dave finds a big chunk of steel under one of his benches. He said, “We will have to surface sand this manifold so it is flat again.”  We put the heavy chunk of steel on a bench and taped sandpaper to it. Dave held one end of the manifold and I was on the other. We slowly slid the manifold back and forth (which seemed like an eternity). Soon we had the old manifold as flat as can be! We bolted it all up and got the old girl running! 

I thought that I would someday love to have a shop like Dave has. Little did I know that I had a lot more to learn at Dave’s shop.

To be continued…

Press to leave a comment.


Do You Have
EXPERTISE in NON-PROFITS?

Joe Rinaudo, founder of Silent Cinema Society, is currently forming a non-profit which he calls SCAT —Silent Cinema Art and Technology — to fund the restoration and preservation of the actual machines and media of the silent era.

Advice and suggestions in the area of non-profits are most welcome. Contact Joe Rinaudo here.

Through Silent Cinema Society, which is comprised of you, the fans and supporters of silent cinema, Joe will continue to enlighten and entertain with The Newsreel newsletter; this Silent Cinema Society website; and hopefully soon, live shows where audiences are once again able to wear big hats that block the screen. SCAT, the non-profit, will also support Silent Cinema Society so that information and entertainment will continue to be presented to you, silent cinema fans. Lady, will you please take off that big hat!

CH. 4: DAVE HARTMAN, MENTOR

Dear Reader:

I am happy to report that Dave Hartman has been feeling much better, even with a bounce in his step, according to his wife Joanie.
She attributes it to these stories, and I am truly humbled. Not only does he enjoy reliving our adventures, she says, but he is most delighted to share them with his daughters, who are fascinated to learn about their father’s mechanical ingenuity and how appreciated he has been by his colleagues and friends.

I am overjoyed that in my attempt to simply honor my best friend of forty-eight years, it has restored Dave’s spirit for life and passion for tinkering. It has been cathartic for me as well. I have learned many wonderful things from Dave over the years, and now he’s taught me something new, something profound: the importance of sharing memories with an old friend; it’s heartwarming for everyone.

I deeply appreciate your coming along for the ride as well, dear reader. (How do you like riding in a Model A?) Here’s the next chapter about my mentor, Dave Hartman…

By Joe Rinaudo

Dave Hartman

CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3

Chapter 4

So here I am standing in front of the guy who I have been looking to find for several years (and I can only hope who might be willing to help me with my Fotoplayer restoration). It also amazed me that he was the same person that Wes Cooper has been telling me about for the last several years!

After Wes just walked away and left me standing there, I said something like: “Hi Dave, remember me? I’m the guy who showed the silent movie at your Photoplayer demonstration for Mr. Nethercutt at Carty Piano several years ago.” When I told him that I had purchased an American Fotoplayer, Dave said: “So, you bought an F.F.?” When I inquired what he meant by an F.F. Dave said: “a F….ing Fotoplayer! Why on earth would you want one of those contraptions?” I told him that I collected silent movies and wanted something to play along with them that would give the authentic sound. Since I grew up with a player piano, an American Fotoplayer is a natural fit as it plays standard 88 note piano rolls. I went on to say that when I heard the J.P. Seeburg Photoplayer he had restored, it was a life changing experience for me. Dave said: “You sure are a cheap date!” (Apparently, I was just blessed with one of Dave’s nuggets of wit.)

Fotoplayer prior to restoration
1974 Polaroid of Joe’s new (48 years old, actually) Style 20 Fotoplayer, unrestored, in Mr. Barns’ garage, Orange County, California, on the day Joe purchased it. This is the main player and piano unit with all the keys, pedals, buttons, levers, pull cords and (eventually) rubber bulb for the taxi horn.
Fotoplayer prior to restoration
A 21-year-old Joe Rinaudo and his new toy. This is the side chest which houses most of the instruments and sound effects. Photo by friend Don Telford.

I told Dave that I had purchased the Fotoplayer in unrestored condition and I was having some problems in making it play properly. He asked what my current problem was. I told him that the valve chest that runs the pipe organ was firing two notes off at the same time, making two pipes speak when only one note is played on the piano. Dave just smiled and said (the magic words) “why don’t you bring the valve chest by my shop some time and let me take a look at it.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and asked where he lived. I found out he was only 11 miles from my house — a short distance considering the help and knowledge I might gain from this meeting!

Dave introduced me to his wife, Jennifer, and his new born daughter, Cordie. I remember seeing Jennifer (as she was leaving) in the parking lot at Carty Piano driving a Model A Ford. I had stopped her to look at the car, as I also have a Model A. I had no idea that this was Dave’s wife and that Dave was also a Model A enthusiast!

Dave asked me where I had found my Fotoplayer. I told him that I had purchased it from a man (originally from Canada) by the name of Charlie Barns who now lived in Orange County California. As the story goes, an old theater in Saskatchewan, Canada was being demolished and this Fotoplayer was found sealed up under the stage in very nice original condition. Nobody knew what it was. So, it was put into storage. When an article appeared in a local Canadian newspaper about this “King Tut” find, relatives (in Canada) of Charlie Barns sent him the article. Charlie (who liked old automatic pianos) went up there and bought it. When his wife saw the size of it and how much restoration it required, she said “not in my house” and rather firmly “suggested” that he sell it!

After hearing this story, Dave explained that some of my problems may be due to the fact that the Fotoplayer was brought down from a wet climate where it has lived since the 1920’s in Canada to a dry California one, which can cause the shrinking of wooden parts and cracks to form. This will have to be checked out, he said.

I found out much later that my Fotoplayer was made in 1926. This was the last year of manufacture of Fotoplayers. It was made in the Robert Morton Pipe Organ factory in Van Nuys, California, which was a subsidiary of The American Photoplayer company. It was shipped up to Saskatchewan, Canada and only used for about four years. When sound came to the movies in 1929, instead of removing it, the stage was extended over the Fotoplayer to accommodate the new bigger screen with speakers. This explains the nice original condition of my machine.

Also, as mentioned in a previous chapter, there are two ways that I have been spelling the word “Photoplayer.” When speaking of Photoplayers in general or generic terms the correct spelling is Photoplayer. Such was the case when describing the Nethercutt Photoplayer which was made by the J.P. Seeburg Piano Company. When speaking of a  Photoplayer made by the American Photoplayer Company, it is spelled Fotoplayer as this is the trademark for that company.

Well, the big day came. I drove the Fotoplayer valve chest over to Dave’s shop. What he discovered, and my reaction to this, would set me on an interesting and complicated path of total restoration!

To be continued…

Do You Have
EXPERTISE in NON-PROFITS?

Joe Rinaudo, founder of Silent Cinema Society, is currently forming a non-profit which he calls SCAT —Silent Cinema Art and Technology — to fund the restoration and preservation of the actual machines and media of the silent era.

Advice and suggestions in the area of non-profits are most welcome. Contact Joe Rinaudo here.

Through Silent Cinema Society, which is comprised of you, the fans and supporters of silent cinema, Joe will continue to enlighten and entertain with The Newsreel newsletter; this Silent Cinema Society website; and hopefully soon, live shows where audiences are once again able to wear big hats that block the screen. SCAT, the non-profit, will also support Silent Cinema Society so that information and entertainment will continue to be presented to you, silent cinema fans. Lady, will you please take off that big hat!