The Joy of Piano Music

By Cliff Lowell

A player piano in our parlor provided joyous entertainment. We would gather 'round and sing while one of us pumped the pedals and pretended to be an accomplished pianist. Cousins and friends came to visit and take turns making the music resound while others sang and danced.

My parents bought the piano and dozens of rolls of songs from the 1910s and '20s from Uncle Fred when he moved to Iowa. Some of my favorites included Ain't We Got Fun, Alexander's Ragtime Band, and K-K-K-Katy.

My brother, age two, discovered that the brittle plastic tubes that brought air from the bellows to the bar over which the rolls glided to produce sound popped when he broke them. That noise attracted my attention as I passed the sliding doors, and I opened them to investigate the sound. Melvin had happily broken half those tubes, oblivious of the damage he'd caused. 

It was the 1930s depression years. My parents couldn't afford to have the piano repaired, and the piano roll music became memories as they gathered dust in their open-front cabinet.

Sometimes I would open the piano and pump the pedals to watch the cogs and chains pull the little bellows windows up and down as I longed for what used to be.

Sisters Doris and Gladys were taking music lessons from an accomplished cousin. Although I was only six, I begged to learn to play too, but Mother thought I was too young and there weren't enough quarters for three people to take lessons. I asked her to explain how the musical staff matched the piano keys and gradually taught myself to play.

My first attempts were one-finger melodies, but I eventually added harmony and then bass notes. It wasn't as enjoyable as playing the player piano, but my skill has brought me much joy over the past 85 years.

Excerpted from The Early Years by Clifford E. Lowell

Cliff is a contributing writer for 55+ Magazine.