Hunewill and the Magic Piano

Originally published February 20, 2014

My dream: that simply because I enter the room, everyone in it experiences beautiful transcendent music!

My reality: usually I have to play the piano. For that, I need to practice and I need a piano, too. Sometimes I also need some magic.

Several summers ago (2025 note: many many summers ago now, before R-T-G & I moved to New Mexico) I went to a guest ranch in the eastern Sierra with my husband. He really rides; I tagged along and did a teensy bit of ... well, nobody would really call what I do riding. Thursday night was guest talent show & Hunewill actually had a piano. So I figured I’d play for people, give them a way to see me other than as that weird lady who can’t ride.

Just one little challenge to overcome: the 1850s-era square Steinway lives at the ranch year-round — including the winter, when the family & cattle all move to lower elevations. The house is closed up, and cold. The piano suffers through the winter & seems to be minimally maintained otherwise.

So: the piano was out-of-tune, but even worse, its action was ... astonishingly uneven. No sense to it at all: a C, say, would require significant force to play while the D next to it sounded with the merest touch. When I was practicing on it, trying to voice (“bring out the melody”) was beyond frustrating. I considered skipping talent night entirely, since I couldn’t make music with the instrument.

They’ll only know me as a bad rider, I thought forlornly.

Then I remembered an experience I had with Horowitz’s piano* and decided to try a different approach.

I had a little chat with this ancient square Steinway.

“Here’s the deal: I can hear that you actually were an excellent piano. You have a lovely tone. Yes, you have to spend the winters cold & alone; yes you need tunings; and yes, you need a few days work on your regulation. But if you were taken care of properly, you would make beautiful music.

“Most people who visit Hunewill probably can’t really play you, but I can make beautiful music. Only if you help me, though. I don’t have a way to get you fixed by tonight, so you have to fix your own voicing. Let me play the way I play, and you make sure the melodies come out & all the notes play, & the notes that need to be quiet are quiet. So that everyone can hear that together you & I can create wonderful music. Will you do that for me?”

And it did. The 150-year-old square Steinway transformed into an instrument that was a pleasure to play.

The magical square Steinway at Hunewill Ranch.

At the talent show I played Lazy K — hey, it’s a cowboy song! — and Under the Greenwood Tree, my song of the mountains & of the West. I could hear the out-of-tuneness, but the voicing issues had magically disappeared.**

When I finished playing, the room was silent. Then an 8-year-old boy whispered, “Wow!” I think he got his rich musical experience.

I know I got mine.

* a story for another day

** yes, I realize this may just be an episode of self-hypnosis. But my story, to which I am sticking like a bass note on an old upright, is that the piano did magic. Because I asked it to.