The thread about moving big or heavy pianos brought forth four Piano
Moving Memories.

Golden Memory No. 1:  In the 1950s, I located an upright player through
an elderly player technician in a small New Jersey town.  We came to a
purchase arrangement which I recall involved $200.  This involved a
complete rebuilding of the player, included about 200 rolls, and
delivery of all from his shop to and into my home, about an hour away.
The instrument had to go down a steep outside stairway, then make a
right-angle turn into a basement, and then another such turn at the
base of an inside stairway, into our music room and den.  I described
this at length and even showed the gentleman a scale drawing of the
items he had to clear, a task about which I was very dubious.

He insisted it would work.  Who was I to argue with someone who had
worked with pianos for probably 50 years?  When he got the piano to my
home, we started the odious task.  It became obvious to me that it
just was not going to work.  The piano was just too "thick" from front
to back.  We would have to remove the keyboard and its entire support
area so it could be "bent" or "snaked" around the doorways.  This
involved removing all of the player and piano action mechanisms, and
then the side panels holding the keyboard support.  "Nothing to it",
said my newfound friend, "I've done this before".

What he didn't count on was that when he removed the short, stubby
screws which held the horizontal panels to the sides of the
instrument, the panels remained steadfastly in place!  In addition to
the thick screws, the panels were glued together!  He said he had
never run into this before.  But "Not to worry" was the response, and
the elderly gentleman proceeded to attack the instrument with a hammer
and a chisel, about 4 inches wide.

I said for the fourth or fifth time that I didn't want him to do this,
that I'd prefer him to find another instrument for me which could be
checked out in his shop as to its dis-assembly.  But no, he insisted
on going ahead, and guaranteed that it would all go back together and
perform just fine.  The elderly gentleman proceeded to attack the
instrument with a hammer and a chisel, about 4 inches wide.

Talk about "The Lost Chord"!   I imagine the resulting painful clanging
notes were heard by Sir Arthur Sullivan in his grave in Britain!  My
neighbors certainly did, a half-mile away.  I couldn't stand it.  I
went away and said I'd return when he finished.  Amazingly, we did get
the piano down into the den, and it was put back together again.  It
did play!

The problem was that the side panels never fit back together properly,
as both panels of wood on each end were literally ripped apart by the
glue.  This resulted in the distance from one end of the keyboard to
the other being reduced by between perhaps 1/4 and 1/2 inch.  The
fallboard would not go up and down.  Ultimately, he agreed to remove
the piano and give me back my money.  He even told me to keep the
rolls, for MY inconvenience!  I truly felt that HE was the one who was
greatly inconvenienced!  I felt very sorry about the entire episode.
Sadly, the old gent never seemed to find another suitable player for
me.  He passed on not long after this event, which I could only call
a sad "Comedy of errors".  Going on a half-century later, I still feel
so sad about the whole thing.

Golden Memory No. 2:  A friend who refinished and restrung pianos was
helping me move some pianos and other instruments from one room to
another in our Yesteryear Museum, which operated near Morristown, New
Jersey in the 1970s.  This chap probably weighed under 100 pounds
wringing wet, but he was most definitely not the "97 Pound Weakling"
of the Charles Atlas ads.  He was a remarkable person.  He did not play
the piano, and could not read music.  Yet he taught himself to play
"Rhapsody in Blue" by playing the George Gershwin Duo-Art recording
over and over.  By watching how the pattern of how the keys went down,
he learned to play the Rhapsody in a faithful duplication of
Gershwin's performance!  Talk about "sight-reading"!

My young friend was all muscle and sinew, and tended to be over-eager
in his actions.  We had to get an upright out of one room and into
another.  In order to accomplish this, we had to put the instrument on
its side on a dolly.  This lean (skinny is probably more accurate)
young chap grabbed the piano to ease it over, but his strength was
such that he just flipped it over like a pancake-maker.  Fortunately,
the only damage done was to some molding around the top lid.  To atone
for his rashness, he repaired the damage and did a beautiful job of
refinishing the piano!

Golden Piano Memory No. 3:  On another occasion, I helped this
miniscule Hercules remove an upright from a second-story location.  It
probably had been put there by riggers.  We opted to take it down a
narrow but straight flight of stairs.  The method used was to very
lovingly and carefully roll the piano end-over-end down the stairs.
In both these instances, the pianos survived and gave many hours of
entertainment.

Golden Piano Memory No. 4:  In another instance in the 1970s, we were
offered the gift of an upright player, if we could just get it out of
a walk-down basement recreation room.   We had to move it perhaps
20 feet to where we needed to go up about 3 or 4 steps, and then out
to a driveway where we could put it into a rented trailer, pulled by
a large station wagon (remember those?)

I don't recall the name of the piano, but it should have been something
like Mack, Autocar or Peterbilt.  We couldn't believe how heavy this
monster was!  Several of us found that we couldn't  roll the piano
around, even 'though we had checked to see that the oversize casters
were working.

My big station wagon was equipped with a power winch and 1/4-inch
cable.  This was strong enough to haul my 1920 Autocar with Tangley
Calliaphone onto a flatbed trailer for over-the-road travel...several
tones of huge wooden wheels with solid-rubber tires, two-cylinder
engine with enormous cylinders, and extra-long chassis.

That 1909-model Autocar is now ensconced in the marvelous Van Horn
antique truck museum in Mason City, Iowa.  Mr. Van Horn took advantage
of the rare (if not unique) long chassis, to rebuild the vehicle as a
bus!   My late antique car friend Sam Alperti designed a marvelous
flatbed trailer and all the chains, holding and safety devices, which
enabled me to haul everything from a VW Beetle to a 1930s Packard and
a large 1958 Edsel Citation Sedan.

The winch sat on a plate with a teardrop-shape hole in it, so it could
be placed on the trailer-hitch ball at the back of my station wagon.
We ran out the cable through the door into the basement, and fastened
it around wads of towels placed around one foot of the piano.  The
winch operating switch was controlled with a long string so that we
could supervise the action with the piano from inside the house.  To
our amazement, the 88-note ogre refused to budge, although the winch
was operating.  When we went outside to check the winch, we saw the
result!

Our full-size Pontiac Station Wagon (the largest passenger car on the
road at the time) was simply pulled SIDEWAYS about 3 feet, up against
the house!

Regretfully, we left the piano behind, checked the vehicle for damage
(there was none), and went on our way with our tails between our legs!

Despite this single setback out of a number of unusual moving jobs, we
found that usually the key to a successful move is to study the
situation and all its ramifications at great length before making any
moves with the instrument.  Also, one must convince the piano that the
mover--not the piano--is the boss!  If you can't do that
satisfactorily in your own mind, don't even try!

Happy New Year from Lee Munsick
Appomattox County, Virginia