Introduction
By Rich Marschner
OK, OK! Having been spurred on by Keith Reedman's admission of "lurking" at the MMD site for some time without a formal "hello" -- and shamed by Nancy Fratti's and Editor Robbie's pleas for the music box people to stand and be recognized -- here sits one recent MMD subscriber who has more interest in music combs than tracker bars.
I've been collecting since 1968, when I bought a broken-down table-model Regina. My interest took firm hold a year later, thanks to a generous retired U.S. Air Force meteorologist, Tom Brines. Tom owned a tiny clock-and-watch shop in Boulder, Colorado, where I was in grad school in '69 and '70. I had taken my Regina into Tom's place with the hope of getting it straightened out; it played, but was not musical.
Tom's attitude was both simple and honest: "I've never repaired one of these, but the drive mechanism is basically a clockwork. The music part is all new to me, though, so I don't want to take on the job. But if you want to come in here on Saturday mornings from 8 to noon, you can join my other students and I'll teach you what I can about fixing it yourself."
"Gosh," I said, "that would be great. But the University of Colorado already gets all my money for tuition, so I don't think I can afford your school, too."
Tom -- who I soon learned had a heart of gold but wore the facade of a Sumo wrestler -- growled, "Did I say anything about cost? The only thing I ask is that if you come, keep coming every week. Don't start if you don't plan to stick with it for at least six months. By then we'll both know if you've got any feel for this work or not."
I started clock school the next Saturday, joining three other students ranging in age from twice to three times my own. I asked Tom why he gave these free classes. "If I don't teach a couple of people to take over when I'm gone," Tom said, "this craft will die out. I learned from a man who made me promise to teach clock or watch repair to at least two others. I use my Saturday mornings to fulfill that promise."
Eventually, I knew enough to bring my Regina up to a pretty good standard. In 1971, I bought a Style 81 Regina Chime Clock -- a 7-foot grandfather, and big job to restore. Tom's whole class worked with me on that one, with its simple Seth Thomas grandfather movement and its complex Regina chime unit in the clock's base. It has been running almost without interruption for 25 years, suffering some ills through six moves, but it stands today in our front hall in Chagrin Falls, Ohio, monitoring the passage of all who come and go. I've owned a couple more of these over the years; one I bought from Marty Roegnik. If I have a specialty, this must be it.
I joined the Musical Box Society International as soon as I discovered it in 1968, and I've been both more and less active in the interim than I am today. My only meaningful contributions to MBSI, from which I have taken so much: I helped with a story on Regina Chime Clocks for the MBSI Journal, which was mostly written by John Bishop. (He died shortly after, very young). The story ended up in the Silver Anniversary Edition, published by the Society for its 25th year; my clock is pictured there. I also assisted Bill Edgerton with his compilation of material for that massive undertaking: I edited the history of the Society that begins the book.
My collecting has been almost exclusively in the music box field, but I do have one piano: a 1923 Chickering Ampico A in a Louis XV case, which I was very fortunate to have mechanically restored by Art Reblitz in the early '70's. Art, too, was generous with his time and patience, allowing me to assist with the restoration in small and simple ways that helped me understand the machine without compromising his finished product.
There have been many music boxes which have come and gone. A few have stayed: a Regina Style 35 automatic disc-changer; a Regina Style 40 in a hand-painted cabinet, which the collectors call "Rookwood" (for which I was lucky to find a matching Rookwood sheet-music cabinet); a rare Style 217 Regina Bell Box. There are five early cylinder music boxes, includ- ing examples by LeCoultre, the Nicole brothers and Paillard.
My career is in commercial radio broadcasting, first in Denver (KVOD), then Chicago (WFMT), and now Cleveland, where I manage (and co-own) WCLV(FM), which I dare say is one of the best-known and most successful commercial classical radio stations in this country. We are not only Cleveland's source for classical music, news and arts information (and have been continuously since 1962), but our Radio Seaway syndication arm provides programming via satellite and digital audio tape to more than 550 public radio stations all over the U.S.
It is probable that your local NPR station carries one or more of our products: Adventures in Good Music with Karl Haas, weekly concerts by The Cleveland Orchestra, the Detroit Symphony, European festivals and orchestras, Weekend Radio with Robert Conrad (my partner), and a dozen others. Check our web site (www.wclv.com) for lots of info on WCLV, including how to listen to us in real time and in FM-quality stereo. We'd love to add you to our ever-widening audience, wherever you may be.
So -- my too-long introduction is complete. If it bored you, I accept the blame, but Keith Reedman, Nancy Fratti and Editor Robbie must share the responsibility for my having squiggled out from under my rock in the first place. And Robbie, I'm looking for the Ogden Nash lines re: exclaimers (!); I think we have it on a recording _somewhere_ in the station's library....
OK -- where are the _rest_ of the music boxers?
Rich Marschner
3/30/43
Chagrin Falls OH (216) 464-0900 rmarschner@wclv.com
[ Welcome aboard, Rich, and "stay tuned" for anything and everything!
[ I think I even have a CD with narration or liner notes by Bob Conrad.
[ Small world! -- Robbie |
(Message sent Sat 15 Feb 1997, 18:52:14 GMT, from time zone GMT-0500.) |
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