Hello, MMD.  My wife, Beryl, and I are just back home after a five-week
holiday in France.  Much of the time was spent on river cruises on the
Rhone and the Seine, but we did spend some time in Paris.  We spent
several days in the Lutetia Hotel on Paris' Left Bank.  On arrival
there, I lugged our ridiculously heavy suitcases up the front steps and
into the lobby and happened to glance to my left.  What I saw stopped
me in my tracks.

It was a keyboardless Red Welte player, with a roll in the spool box,
ready to go.  However, according to the concierge it was the property
of the hotel, but had stopped working about 15 years ago.  I can see
that the management might not want to have it restored, because then
they would constantly be pestered by people, like me, who would like to
hear it play.  But it's a shame.

We looked in a few antique shops, where I trotted out my "Je cherche
les rouleaux perforé pour un piano mecanique" line (which encompasses
just about all the French I can remember), but without luck.  I had
heard from a friend back here in Tasmania that the place to go was the
flea market at Les Puces ["The Fleas"], which is held every weekend in
the North of Paris, and is accessible by Metro.  Beryl and I went there
almost two weeks ago and were staggered; it is huge!

We were directed to what ought to be a fruitful section and I tried my
line of French on a middle-aged lady with a stall of assorted stuff
other than piano rolls.  "Moment," she said, and bustled around hanging
up a muslin curtain in front of her stall, and then led me about 150
yards down an alley to another stall, which was operated by a chap of
about 30 years or so.  She explained to him that I was a potential roll
customer, and headed back up the alley.  He did indeed have quite a
number of rolls and he got his young assistant to produce several more
cartons-full.  So I had plenty to look through.

When I asked him the price per roll he replied "vingt cinq euro".
However, the shocked expression on my face caused the price immediately
to drop to 20 euros and then to 10 euros, at which point I started
seriously looking at them.  In the end I picked out seven foxtrots and
tangos for which I paid 50 euros and I think we parted with both of us
happy.  I made sure to say "Merci beaucoup" to the middle-aged lady on
my way out.

The boxes need a bit of attention, but the rolls themselves are all
in excellent condition.  Two are "Diana" brand rolls, manufactured in
Madrid, and have the most ornate covers on the box lid that I have ever
seen.  The sides of the box depict, presumably, Diana, whacking away at
a big kettle drum.  She is a very demure Diana, with just the hint of
a bare breast visible.  I suspect that this was to spare the blushes of
young Spanish maidens, seeing that Spanish pianola owners in the 1920s
would have been fairly protective of the virtue of their daughters.

Beryl is out having lunch with her mates, so I've had free rein on
the player and have pedalled through all seven rolls.  None have any
snakebites or a sustain track, but they still sound great, and seem
subtly different from U.S. player rolls.  This is _not_ a criticism
of the latter.

John Phillips
in Hobart, Tasmania