Durrell Armstrong and his Player Piano Company are well-known to those
who collect, restore, and repair player pianos.  The company has been
operating for over forty years and is the last surviving business selling
supplies for player pianos.  While the name is familiar to many, few have
actually visited the place in Wichita, Kansas.

Wichita was founded in south-central Kansas around 1868 as a cattle town
at the northern terminus of the Chisholm Trail, where cattle driven from
Texas were shipped east by railroad.  Although the city's beginning
sprang from the cattle trade, the largest factor in its economic
development would eventually come from the aircraft industry.  Cessna,
Beech, Boeing and Learjet have all established factories there, and the
aircraft industry remains the city's largest employer.

Today, Wichita, with over 300,000 inhabitants, is a city with a desire to
capture the past juxtaposed against the demands of the present.  It is a
practical city with remnants of the pioneer spirit and tenacity still
evident.  In contrast to older cities of the U.S. East Coast and Europe,
Wichita's arterial streets are laid out pragmatically straight, and
stretch for miles, even beyond the city limits.  Even though the purpose
of the arterial streets is intended to be functional, traffic often moves
slowly.  No one gets anywhere fast in Wichita, and there seems to be
little initiative to change things.

The Old Town district is filled with turn-of-the-century brick buildings
that are being revitalized; shops and restaurants have appeared in
buildings that have stood empty for years.  The red brick construction of
Player Piano Company echoes the architectural style of other Old Town
buildings.  Just one block west is the Eaton Hotel, where
hatchet-wielding, temperance leader Carry A.  Nation once smashed liquor
bottles against the wall.

Today, I am in Wichita on business, and making a side trip to PPCo while
in town.  Visiting Player Piano Company is like stepping into the past,
and the first step is getting to the shop itself.  In order to enter
PPCo's parking lot, the visitor must turn off the modern throughway
Douglas Avenue, onto Mead, an old, narrow, brick street.  Mead Street
could have been used as a backdrop for the movie, "The Sting."  The
resemblance is remarkable.

Walking from the parking lot to the front entrance, one cannot help but
notice the old Union Pacific Railroad depot directly across the street.
The grandeur of the marble, glass and steel railroad depot contrasts
sharply with the humble brick building housing Player Piano Company.
There are no flashy neon or plastic signs blaring out the company's name
to passersby, only a faded placard on the facade of the building simply
stating, "Player Piano Co. Inc."  I climb the well-worn iron steps, enter
through a heavy, wood-framed glass door, and step into the past.

The visitor is greeted by an assortment of player pianos, some partially
disassembled, scattered throughout the front room.  The ancient shag
carpeting corresponds cacophonously with the faded green walls.  On one
of these walls is a mural depicting ragtime musicians and an oddly-shaped
torch song singer in a red dress.  The painting is reminiscent of cave
wall drawings portraying a past society unfamiliar to today's world.

Two steel desks sit side-by-side, facing customers as they enter.  These
desks have been entrenched in their places forever, silently observing
visitors and the world beyond on Douglas Avenue.  Incongruous symbols of
the present, a television and a CD player, infringe upon this sanctuary
of the past.  And everywhere, there is dust, and more dust, serving as a
protective shield to preserve this scene in time.

I've been here many times before, and the place remains virtually
unchanged.  It's like an old phonograph record that gets stuck and
repeats the same notes over and over.  Some things are different.  Years
ago, there were a couple of cats that wandered around the place, and I
enjoyed petting them when I visited.  They are long since gone, however,
one of them, a Siamese, has been immortalized in a painting at Player
Piano Company.

I recall one particular visit that was different.  While talking with an
employee, we heard a dull "boom" and the whole building shook.  We
glanced around with "What was that?" looks on our faces.  Then, we
noticed a semi-truck stopped in front and figured it out.  There is an old
railroad bridge with a low clearance that spans Douglas Avenue and passes
just inches from Player Piano Company.  When the semi-trailer hit the bridge, the
vibration could be felt inside the building.

On today's visit, I am in need of supplies.  My player is being rebuilt,
and luckily, the timing coincides with a scheduled visit to Wichita.  I
tell the man seated at the desk of my supply needs, and he replies that
he only keeps the books, and that Durrell will have to handle my request.
He calls upstairs to Durrell, who is working on the third floor, and asks
him to come down.

While waiting for his arrival, the Violano Virtuoso catches my eye, and I
walk over to examine it more closely.

"It works, if you'd like to hear it."

Really?!  I've passed by the machine many times but have never seen it in
operation.  It costs a nickel to operate, but it's worth it.  After
distributing the rosin for a lengthy period, the music finally starts.
The piano sounds fine, but the violin is badly out of tune.  The tune is
not familiar to me, nonetheless, it is a delight to hear.  The music goes
on for some time, longer than I expected.  Durrell enters as the song is
in its final bars, providing him with an entrance fanfare.

Durrell is a slender man of average height, with dark blond hair combed
back, black-rimmed glasses, and long, thin fingers.  I smile and say
hello, and he quietly nods in return.  I mention that my player is being
rebuilt, and show him my supply list.  I don't need to explain much as he
intuitively knows what I am talking about.  He exits to retrieve the
supplies.

While he is gone, I read a newspaper article about Player Piano Company
that is on display.  The bookkeeper notices this and proudly tells me
that Durrell has been on local television four times in the past year, in
segments featuring him and the history of Player Piano Company.

I drift over to the piano roll clearance rack and begin browsing.  There
are some new Melodee rolls for only five dollars apiece and I select a
few.  By now, Durrell has reappeared and begins to write up my ticket.
All this time, he has said few words.  He might be preoccupied, or maybe
he is thinking about how he needs to return to his work on third floor.
I give him my check and thank him for his help.  I leave with my
purchases, then continue my appointments around town before heading home.

There is a saying that goes, "The more things change, the more they stay
the same."  This certainly applies to Player Piano Company.  It is a
place that is consistently the same, yet each visit is a little bit
different.


Epilogue:  I was at Player Piano Company again on Friday.  Durrell
was gone, but I learned that he will be at the AMICA convention in
Sandusky, Ohio.  If you're going there too and have never met him,
then take this opportunity to do so.  - Joyce

Joyce Brite
brite@ksu.edu       http://www-personal.ksu.edu/~brite/