Making the Transition

[Ron Nossaman]

Ok, what the heck.

I began as a child, with no concept of what a piano might be, and caring
less, but with an overpowering curiosity about how and why things worked -
or didn't. Leaving an endless trail of disassembled, fried, and partially
mutated toys and appliances in my wake, I (ostensibly) made it through
childhood in spite of the best efforts of the world in general to train me
into a fitting image of whatever was the coin of the realm at the time. 

Eventually, I segued from constructing working model catapults and
airplanes, and making smoke while popping circuit breakers, to haunting
snooker tables and playing guitar. It's been said that the guitar is one of
the easiest instruments to play badly, and one of the hardest to play well,
and I can attest to the fact that a guitar played with front feet will make
one appreciate snooker all the more. 

Since I so obviously had a greater talent for applied physics than for the
musical performance arts, I started out professionally in the field of
mechanics. After a couple of jobs too horrible to remember, much less
relate, I worked for a startup sign company as their production staff and
intermittent graphic artist. Though drilling holes in the sides of
buildings and hanging semi-permanent monuments to the fruits of my labor
had a certain transient charm, I didn't see it really going anywhere I
wanted to be. My next temporary job as a maintenance man at the local
Howard Johnson was considerably more interesting, since I got to do some re
engineering and installation of the heating and cooling system, and learned
to coax free candy bars out of the vending machine just outside the laundry
room. Unfortunately, even adventures of this magnitude began to pale after
a while and I began looking for something with more potential.

I had been thinking for some time about guitar repair and custom building,
since I was pre-qualified in woodworking by the construction of all those
catapults and guillotines as a kid, but I  didn't really know enough about
guitars to not be part of the problem. I didn't want that. My next option
was to try to get a job at Mossman Guitars in Winfield Kansas, but after
contemplating all the years of listening to the feeble jokes about a
Nossaman at Mossman, I decided against it. I didn't want that either.

Meanwhile, my father in law, Tony Novinski, was a piano technician in the
tragic position of having too much shop work backlogged, and no one who
knew how to run a screwdriver who could help him dig out. Being a dutiful
son in law, and admittedly intrigued, I started putting in evenings with
him. I was hooked. After a couple of months, I went to work for him full
time.  

His teaching method consisted of a very quick verbal rundown of what he
wanted done with the action, finish, pinblock, strings, etc, and then
disappearing for two days. Upon his return, he would "critique" what I had
done and tell me what I SHOULD have done and have me do what was necessary
to correct it. All in all, it was one of the most, uh, intense learning
experiences of my life up to that point. One tends to learn fast under
these sort of circumstances. I learned a number of the most valuable bits
of information, or educational techniques, I have ever received from this
man though. "If you don't screw up occasionally, you're not learning", is
one of them. "If you are looking for something in the shop, and finally
find it in the last place you looked, put it away in the first place you
looked in the first place", is another. Hint: This one is GOLD, even if it
sounds pretty flaky. When you realize how valuable this tip is, don't thank
me... send money. Lots. Another wonderful instructive technique had to do
with a newbie's apprehensive conviction that touching anything in an action
would break it and ruin everything for all time. Tony's answer to that was
an old upright action stored in the darkest corner of the shop. Before I
was ever allowed to do anything on a piano action, I was required to haul
that action up onto a workbench and systematically BREAK one of EVERY part
in that action. Then, I was to do it AGAIN! I was then assumed to be
calibrated as to what kind of abuse any action component could be subjected
to without breaking it, so I could work without being afraid of the thing.
This is possibly the most wonderful educational experience I have ever had.
Brief, intense, and perpetually reassuring. Thanks Tony.

After a year in Tony's shop, I figured my nerves were callused enough to
bear up under the prospect of full time self employment as a piano
technician. Though I have occasionally been hungry, I have never been
sorry, and am ruined for all time for ever working for anyone else in any
capacity. Thank all the gods of dumb luck, mediocrity, and random mercy
that I didn't go into guitars!

G'nite, and thanks for putting up with me.

Ron N