The heir was pawing through the Neflix streaming catalog, which consists mostly of movies that no one wants to see. Going where others do not often go can sometimes yield gems, found among the tailings -- while everybody else ranges all over the Big Rock Candy Mountain of entertainment and gets a bellyful, and a bellyache. And a headache, if it's in 3D. He found Note By Note, a little movie about the Steinway factory in Queens. It's terrific.
The movie is aimed at the urban intellectual. It is not a craft show, though lots of craft is shown. There's a hint of noble savage-worship from the filmmakers as they observe the people that make the things. I'm sure a lot of intellectual dots are connected wondering why every factory can't be like that. Maybe we can pass a law.
The dirty secret is that there can be only one factory like that. All the rest must be run out of business so that Steinway can charge a hundred large and get it. It reminds me of 95-year-old Yankees wondering why everyone doesn't eat only rhubarb, pork fat, and canned wax beans, take cold salt water baths and live in an unheated house -- which they paint every five years with good old lead paint, and wash the brushes out with gasoline. It killed everyone else that tried it, but the last person to tell the tale always says it made them what they were.
This observation shouldn't diminish the value of the work done in the factory, or the work that must be done to get the dough to buy one of the things, either. I get my economics right from the tap, so the word "factory" holds no terrors and few secrets. I like it in the original iteration: manufactory. It's the manu that matters. Always will. I have a teeny tiny embryonic version of what I watched on the screen. I'm still alive in an industry that's mostly dead, which is no small feat, but I know to end up a Steinway in any business is very, very, unlikely. Someone's going to outlast me and get the only ring, as I've outlasted many others.
Steinway isn't kidding when it says it pretty much does everything the same way it always has. Check out this video from 1929, when some of my immigrant relatives were working in a piano factory in Boston, waiting for Steinway to put them out of business.
I've been a professional musician, likewise in a very small way, so Note By Note (note: website autoplays noise and music) doesn't leave me in the dust when the talent shows up. Like the Steinway factory guys, I don't presume to be just like them, but I know enough about the business to know what's going on with them. And let me tell you, the jerk that plays the Charles Ives cacophony at the end after torturing the Steinway people through the whole thing is being snickered at, deservedly, behind his back at the factory.What a fraud.
The tears in the eyes of the mother and father and grandparents when a teenager gets his Steinway and plays it beautifully for them in their living room is very, very real though, and worth the price of admission.