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
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.
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’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…
A 21-year-old Joe Rinaudo and his new toy. Photo by his friend Don Telford, circa 1973.