All posts by Joe Rinaudo

CH. 5: DAVE HARTMAN, MENTOR

Dear Reader:

My best friend and mentor Dave Hartman continues to feel much better, according to his wife Joanie. She attributes it to these stories, and I am truly humbled. Not only does he enjoy reliving our adventures, she says, but he is most delighted to share them with his daughters, who are fascinated to learn about their father’s mechanical ingenuity and how appreciated he has been by his colleagues and friends.

I am overjoyed that in my attempt to simply honor my best friend of forty-eight years. It has restored Dave’s spirit for life, and passion for tinkering. Joanie says it’s even put a bounce in his step.

It has been cathartic for me as well. I have learned many wonderful things from Dave over the years, and now he’s taught me something new, something profound: the importance of sharing memories with an old friend. It’s healing and heartwarming for everyone.

I deeply appreciate your coming along for the ride, *|FNAME|*. Here’s the next chapter about my best friend and mentor, Dave Hartman…

By Joe Rinaudo

Dave Hartman

CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3  CHAPTER 4

Chapter 5

So, I removed the valve chest from my Fotoplayer and put it in my Model A. On the drive over to Dave’s house, I wondered just what we might find as the cause of the poorly performing valve chest. When I arrived at Dave’s he told me to bring the car around back to the “shop.” There I discovered a large garage crammed with a lifetime of projects.  What a wonderful and magical place!

I brought the valve chest inside and placed it on the bench. Dave said that I must disassemble it for inspection. I removed the top half containing the valves and exposed the pouches. The pouches are little air-tight discs of very thin leather that inflate (when a note is played on the piano) that push up on the valve, sending vacuum to a small pneumatic (bellows) that collapses it (when vacuum enters) and pushes down on a push rod which opens another valve that lets wind into the pipe which makes the pipe “speak.” This is how the piano roll plays the organ. It is all a very convoluted contraption! Dave noticed that the rubber valves were red, like silicone, and not black rubber like all other American Fotoplayers. I was quite proud of these silicone valves as they were my secret weapon to make my valve chest play better than ever. Dave asked where I got these made.


Joe's first piano restoration

Here I am in 1970 with the first player piano I had rebuilt for a “customer.” The $300 profit helped me purchase my Fotoplayer, and the accomplishment gave me the confidence to try and restore it. Little did I know that a few years later Dave Hartman would show me the right way!


I told him that a friend of mine, Mr. Frank Cermack, had found a style 40 American Fotoplayer in the Optic theater in downtown Los Angeles. We had become Fotoplayer friends. He had given me just enough information about “restoration” to make me dangerous! Frank worked in the Skunkworks at Lockheed Aircraft as a tool and die maker. (The skunkworks was a top-secret department where things were built for the military.) Frank would never speak of what went on over there. Well, Frank had made molds and a set of valves for his Fotoplayer out of some very expensive military grade silicone. He did this on his lunch hour with extra steel for the molds and left-over silicone. (At least that is what he told me.) I was quite proud to have a set of these valves in my valve chest! Thinking all that was necessary for a great working valve chest were these government-sponsored valves.

Dave took one look at the pouches and said “This is all crap! Rip out the pouches and seal the wood!” I was horrified to hear such a diagnosis! Fotoplayer had pressed little trim rings around each pouch. I had very carefully removed these rings in an attempt to seal the pouches, and very carefully replaced them. Dave said “That’s unnecessary crap! Throw those worthless rings out!” I was very sad to see all of my hard work go into the trash can! Dave explained that the leather from the 1920’s had shrunk and was leaking, which causes the valves to also leak. Alas, the best laid plans of mice and me. Another big problem was the wood that the chest was made from, was seeping vacuum through to the next valve, and all of those air channels must be cleaned and sealed before replacing the pouches. I realized that the “Doctor” had spoken and was not sure what might happen next. Dave very patiently walked me through the steps for the proper restoration of the poor old valve chest.

After a few days my worst fears were allayed. The valve chest was working perfectly! Skunkworks valves and all.

The next thing was the pipe wind chest with all of the little pneumatics that make the organ play. I had tried to seal them and clean the little pushrods and pipe valves with talcum powder. Dave said “You’re really good at putting lipstick on a pig!” Dave showed me how to recover the pneumatics and rebuild the organ valves (which were made of felt and leather). He showed me how to seal the cracks in the wood to make the wind chest tight.

Joe with his Model A

Joe’s 1929 Model A Ford

All of this took several weeks and trips to his shop with my Model A. On one such occasion I was driving the Model A to Dave’s shop with another of the Fotoplayer projects when one of the most embarrassing moments of my life was just in the road ahead. I was tooling down at a pretty fast clip for a Model A (about 40 miles per hour!) when I entered a very large intersection which had some kind of a very sharp bump in the pavement. When my front wheels hit the event horizon of this Marianas Trench, I felt my front end come up off the ground with a resounding bouncing crash as I arrived back on earth. The car jumped up again as if I had run over something. As the car bounced back to the road, I heard an awful loud chugging sound as if I had no muffler! In my rear view mirror I saw that my muffler was skidding into the middle of the intersection. This now had stopped all traffic! So I pull over, out of the intersection, turned off the chugging beast and quickly opened the rumble seat to accept the muffler. As I ran back into the middle of the intersection (with car horns honking) my only thought was to get my muffler out of the way so as not to cause an accident and further damage to my muffler. As I grabbed the muffler, I suddenly realized that this was not the thing to do as it was red hot! I then screamed and threw the muffler straight up in the air. I began shaking my burned hands wildly and managed to just barely dodge the falling muffler! Now I can hear people in two of the nearby gas stations laughing and knew I had fingers pointing at me. Amid the honking horns and laughter, I hastily kicked the muffler back to my car, grabbed a rag and threw the offending muffler into the rumble seat. With that I took off with a thunderous roar!

When I finally arrived at Dave’s shop, He just looked at me with a muffler sticking out of my rumble seat and a car that sounded like a Harley on steroids, and said “What have you done now? I heard you several blocks away!” When I told him of my harrowing adventure, Dave said he was sorry that he had missed that. I then wondered how I was going to get home as part of my exhaust manifold had broken off and was still clamped on to the muffler! A friend had welded the manifold for me and he assured me that it would not break. Dave said “Your friend needs to go back to welding school.” What happened next was one of the magical things about Dave’s shop, which seemed to have anything you needed. In no time at all Dave had found a Model A exhaust manifold and the gasket set for it. This exhaust manifold was warped and that’s why he wasn’t going to use it on his Model A. Dave said “It’s always good to have spare parts for your old car.” Dave finds a big chunk of steel under one of his benches. He said, “We will have to surface sand this manifold so it is flat again.”  We put the heavy chunk of steel on a bench and taped sandpaper to it. Dave held one end of the manifold and I was on the other. We slowly slid the manifold back and forth (which seemed like an eternity). Soon we had the old manifold as flat as can be! We bolted it all up and got the old girl running! 

I thought that I would someday love to have a shop like Dave has. Little did I know that I had a lot more to learn at Dave’s shop.

To be continued…

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Do You Have
EXPERTISE in NON-PROFITS?

Joe Rinaudo, founder of Silent Cinema Society, is currently forming a non-profit which he calls SCAT —Silent Cinema Art and Technology — to fund the restoration and preservation of the actual machines and media of the silent era.

Advice and suggestions in the area of non-profits are most welcome. Contact Joe Rinaudo here.

Through Silent Cinema Society, which is comprised of you, the fans and supporters of silent cinema, Joe will continue to enlighten and entertain with The Newsreel newsletter; this Silent Cinema Society website; and hopefully soon, live shows where audiences are once again able to wear big hats that block the screen. SCAT, the non-profit, will also support Silent Cinema Society so that information and entertainment will continue to be presented to you, silent cinema fans. Lady, will you please take off that big hat!

CH. 4: DAVE HARTMAN, MENTOR

Dear Reader:

I am happy to report that Dave Hartman has been feeling much better, even with a bounce in his step, according to his wife Joanie.
She attributes it to these stories, and I am truly humbled. Not only does he enjoy reliving our adventures, she says, but he is most delighted to share them with his daughters, who are fascinated to learn about their father’s mechanical ingenuity and how appreciated he has been by his colleagues and friends.

I am overjoyed that in my attempt to simply honor my best friend of forty-eight years, it has restored Dave’s spirit for life and passion for tinkering. It has been cathartic for me as well. I have learned many wonderful things from Dave over the years, and now he’s taught me something new, something profound: the importance of sharing memories with an old friend; it’s heartwarming for everyone.

I deeply appreciate your coming along for the ride as well, dear reader. (How do you like riding in a Model A?) Here’s the next chapter about my mentor, Dave Hartman…

By Joe Rinaudo

Dave Hartman

CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2  CHAPTER 3

Chapter 4

So here I am standing in front of the guy who I have been looking to find for several years (and I can only hope who might be willing to help me with my Fotoplayer restoration). It also amazed me that he was the same person that Wes Cooper has been telling me about for the last several years!

After Wes just walked away and left me standing there, I said something like: “Hi Dave, remember me? I’m the guy who showed the silent movie at your Photoplayer demonstration for Mr. Nethercutt at Carty Piano several years ago.” When I told him that I had purchased an American Fotoplayer, Dave said: “So, you bought an F.F.?” When I inquired what he meant by an F.F. Dave said: “a F….ing Fotoplayer! Why on earth would you want one of those contraptions?” I told him that I collected silent movies and wanted something to play along with them that would give the authentic sound. Since I grew up with a player piano, an American Fotoplayer is a natural fit as it plays standard 88 note piano rolls. I went on to say that when I heard the J.P. Seeburg Photoplayer he had restored, it was a life changing experience for me. Dave said: “You sure are a cheap date!” (Apparently, I was just blessed with one of Dave’s nuggets of wit.)

Fotoplayer prior to restoration
1974 Polaroid of Joe’s new (48 years old, actually) Style 20 Fotoplayer, unrestored, in Mr. Barns’ garage, Orange County, California, on the day Joe purchased it. This is the main player and piano unit with all the keys, pedals, buttons, levers, pull cords and (eventually) rubber bulb for the taxi horn.
Fotoplayer prior to restoration
A 21-year-old Joe Rinaudo and his new toy. This is the side chest which houses most of the instruments and sound effects. Photo by friend Don Telford.

I told Dave that I had purchased the Fotoplayer in unrestored condition and I was having some problems in making it play properly. He asked what my current problem was. I told him that the valve chest that runs the pipe organ was firing two notes off at the same time, making two pipes speak when only one note is played on the piano. Dave just smiled and said (the magic words) “why don’t you bring the valve chest by my shop some time and let me take a look at it.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and asked where he lived. I found out he was only 11 miles from my house — a short distance considering the help and knowledge I might gain from this meeting!

Dave introduced me to his wife, Jennifer, and his new born daughter, Cordie. I remember seeing Jennifer (as she was leaving) in the parking lot at Carty Piano driving a Model A Ford. I had stopped her to look at the car, as I also have a Model A. I had no idea that this was Dave’s wife and that Dave was also a Model A enthusiast!

Dave asked me where I had found my Fotoplayer. I told him that I had purchased it from a man (originally from Canada) by the name of Charlie Barns who now lived in Orange County California. As the story goes, an old theater in Saskatchewan, Canada was being demolished and this Fotoplayer was found sealed up under the stage in very nice original condition. Nobody knew what it was. So, it was put into storage. When an article appeared in a local Canadian newspaper about this “King Tut” find, relatives (in Canada) of Charlie Barns sent him the article. Charlie (who liked old automatic pianos) went up there and bought it. When his wife saw the size of it and how much restoration it required, she said “not in my house” and rather firmly “suggested” that he sell it!

After hearing this story, Dave explained that some of my problems may be due to the fact that the Fotoplayer was brought down from a wet climate where it has lived since the 1920’s in Canada to a dry California one, which can cause the shrinking of wooden parts and cracks to form. This will have to be checked out, he said.

I found out much later that my Fotoplayer was made in 1926. This was the last year of manufacture of Fotoplayers. It was made in the Robert Morton Pipe Organ factory in Van Nuys, California, which was a subsidiary of The American Photoplayer company. It was shipped up to Saskatchewan, Canada and only used for about four years. When sound came to the movies in 1929, instead of removing it, the stage was extended over the Fotoplayer to accommodate the new bigger screen with speakers. This explains the nice original condition of my machine.

Also, as mentioned in a previous chapter, there are two ways that I have been spelling the word “Photoplayer.” When speaking of Photoplayers in general or generic terms the correct spelling is Photoplayer. Such was the case when describing the Nethercutt Photoplayer which was made by the J.P. Seeburg Piano Company. When speaking of a  Photoplayer made by the American Photoplayer Company, it is spelled Fotoplayer as this is the trademark for that company.

Well, the big day came. I drove the Fotoplayer valve chest over to Dave’s shop. What he discovered, and my reaction to this, would set me on an interesting and complicated path of total restoration!

To be continued…

Do You Have
EXPERTISE in NON-PROFITS?

Joe Rinaudo, founder of Silent Cinema Society, is currently forming a non-profit which he calls SCAT —Silent Cinema Art and Technology — to fund the restoration and preservation of the actual machines and media of the silent era.

Advice and suggestions in the area of non-profits are most welcome. Contact Joe Rinaudo here.

Through Silent Cinema Society, which is comprised of you, the fans and supporters of silent cinema, Joe will continue to enlighten and entertain with The Newsreel newsletter; this Silent Cinema Society website; and hopefully soon, live shows where audiences are once again able to wear big hats that block the screen. SCAT, the non-profit, will also support Silent Cinema Society so that information and entertainment will continue to be presented to you, silent cinema fans. Lady, will you please take off that big hat!

CH. 3: DAVE HARTMAN, MENTOR

By Joe Rinaudo

Continued: The story of my best friend and mentor, Dave Hartman (who has been ill), which brings to mind all of the wonderful things that I have learned from him over our forty-eight year friendship…Dave Hartman

CHAPTER 1  CHAPTER 2

Chapter 3

Now the year is 1974 and I have purchased a style 20 American Fotoplayer. So, at 21 years of age, one of my worst fears had come true: that a Fotoplayer is no player piano when it comes to rebuilding. Since I have dabbled in rebuilding a player piano, I had now come to the sobering realization that I am not up to the task to tackle the complete rebuild of a Fotoplayer. These contraptions are very complex items indeed. So (in desperation) I contacted Mr. Dick Carty at Carty Piano to see if he could help in the rebuild. Dick gave me the cost to rebuild the player stack (the complex mechanism that plays the piano from the piano roll) and the two wind motors (one for the upper spool box and one for the lower). As I recall, this was more money than I could afford. So, Dick says “Give me some money and an old radio. I love old wooden radios!” I had a very nice wooden radio from the 1930’s that belonged to my grandfather. So, the deal was set! Yes, Dick Carty was a great business man and cared about the up and coming young “broke” collector!

A 21-year-old Joe Rinaudo and his new toy. Photo by his friend Don Telford, circa 1973.

When I asked where was the big guy “Dave” (who had restored the Nethercutt Photoplayer years earlier), Dick said that Dave’s superior skills were required by Carty Piano for the restoration of the more complex orchestrions in the Nethercutt Museum collection. Dick went on to say that when the Nethercutt Museum contract was over Dave had left for greener pastures.  

By the way, some of you may have noticed the two ways that I have been spelling the word “Photoplayer.” When speaking of Photoplayers in general or generic terms the correct spelling is Photoplayer. Such was the case when describing the Nethercutt Photoplayer which was made by the J.P. Seeburg Piano Company. When speaking of a  Photoplayer made by the American Photoplayer Company, it is spelled Fotoplayer as this is the trademark for that Company only (American Photoplayer Company). I hope that this is now clear as mud!

Now the year is 1975. I am struggling on to try and restore the Fotoplayer on my own. Reading books and gleaning tidbits of information from various collectors proved to be a daunting and insurmountable task!

At this time I was going to junior college and working part time for minimum wage at a hospital in the food service department. To make ends meet I had been driving my first car that I got for $525.00 when I was in high school. A 1929 Ford Model A Coupe. It was as cheap to run as a Volkswagen and very easy to work on. A life-long friend of my father, Mr. Wes Cooper (who was a living legend in the hot rod circles), had built some of the fastest four-cylinder engines using modern day technology but with authentic period parts. He held the land speed record in the flat head four-cylinder class. He and my dad had been friends since first grade and both worked together at the Winfield Carburetor factory in the 1930s.  It was my good fortune in more than one way (as I would soon find out) that he was helping and teaching me on how to maintain an original Model A engine. Or as he called it “That old turd!”  He completely rebuilt my original Model A engine for $100.00!

All of the times that I was at his shop he would ask how the Fotoplayer was coming. When I would tell him of my latest Mount Everest “Fotoplayer” climb, he would say “I have to introduce you to this guy who used to bring his Model A over. He can help you with your problems as he understands how these things work.” I would always dismiss this as idle chatter and thought nothing of it.

In July of 1975 I was at the Long Beach Model T swap meet. As I was searching for that elusive Model A part for my car, who should I come across but Wes Cooper!  He had a stand there selling his souped-up engines and related parts. Without saying a word, he grabbed my hand and led me over to a large tent where a lady was nursing a 9 month-old baby girl. Wes pointed to a man seated next to the lady and said “There! This is the guy I have telling you about. You know, the guy who can help you with your Fotoplayer!” When I got a good look at the man, I realized that the guy that Wes had been telling me about for years was the big guy from Carty Piano — DAVE!

To be continued…

— ANNOUNCEMENT —

Joe Rinaudo, founder of Silent Cinema Society, is currently forming a non-profit which he calls SCAT —Silent Cinema Art and Technology — to fund the restoration and preservation of the actual machines and media of the silent era.

Advice and suggestions in the area of non-profits are most welcome. Contact Joe Rinaudo here.

Through Silent Cinema Society, which is comprised of you, the fans and supporters of silent cinema, Joe will continue to enlighten and entertain with The Newsreel newsletter;  this Silent Cinema Society website; and hopefully soon, live shows where audiences are once again able to wear big hats that block the screen.