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