Wurlitzer / Philipps Orchestrions
Original Location: Los Angeles, California
Philipps
serial or work #???? stamped on chassis.It is unknown who received the PianOrchestra in Los Angeles. Two possible candidates are:
Little is known about the instrument during its stay at the Banner Theater, other than it sat on the second floor mezzanine and entertained patrons.
According to the book, "Music Boxes, Their Lore and Lure," by Helen and John Hoke, "Years went by while collectors ran down every lead for the vanished machine. In 1952, during the remodeling of the [Banner] theater, workmen were astonished to uncover the long-lost, walled-up Orchestrion – and Robert Huish spent eighteen months painstakingly restoring it."
Durrell Armstrong, Wichita, Kansas, relates some interesting details regarding the discovery of the style 29-C PianOrchestra, one that corroborates some tidbits of information that I had heard myself from Mrs. A.C. Raney (Raney collection, Whittier, California) in 1954. In fact, when I had expressed an interest in the 29-C PianOrchestra to Mrs. Raney, I was literally warned by her, "to stay away from that machine, as it was trouble." I did not understand what she meant by trouble, but she was so forceful in her admonition, that I did not ask anything more. It was not until much later, when I learned about the serious problem between Huish and Knott's Berry Farm, his employer, that her remark made sense.
As the story goes: It was known to several collectors, including Bob Huish, that a Wurlitzer PianOrchestra had once been located in the old Banner Theater, an early nickelodeon theater located at the corner of 4th and Main Streets in downtown Los Angeles. No one, however, could remember what had happened to the machine. It had simply vanished without a trace. Huish, sniffing around the old theater for any hint as to what had happened to it, was tapping on a wall on the mezzanine, where the PianOrchestra had supposedly been located. Detecting a dead space in the wall, Huish was certain that the machine was secreted away behind it. After some fancy talking, Bob Huish got permission to poke a small hole in the wall. His suspicion was correct, through the little hole he could clearly see the long forgotten orchestrion. When the bricked-up wall was torn down, the derelict orchestrion was revealed, and beside it was a pile of music rolls. It was such an unusual discovery that a news story about the fantastic PianOrchestra long lost behind a brick wall appeared in the Los Angeles Times.
Why anyone went to the trouble to wall-in the PianOrchestra, instead of just hauling it away as junk, as was the case with so many other similar instruments, is not known. A possible answer comes from another passage in Hoke’s book: "When talking pictures came in, the owner [of the Banner theater] was faced with a giant music-maker he could not use, and it was an unbelievably formidable task either to move or dismantle it. He decided to wall it in, and did so!"
Durrell Armstrong remembers visiting Bob Huish in December of 1954, and hearing the 29-C PianOrchestra play. It was the centerpiece of the house, Bob Huish remarking that he had built his house "around" it. Durrell thought so, too, since "the top of the instrument disappeared into the ceiling, and seemed to be holding up the house."
The following excerpts, which have been edited for conciseness and clarity, are taken from an article in The [Orange County] REGISTER, dated October 20, 1954. They help to provide some sense of Bob Huish:
Some of the comments in the above newspaper excerpt take on a new meaning in light of the tragic story that follows next.
The events that led up to Knott’s Berry Farm owning the PianOrchestra were both unfortunate and tragic. What allegedly happened between Huish and Knott’s was no secret to many Southern California collectors. Although I had heard parts of the story from both Mrs. A.C. Raney and Herbert N. Vincent (who was in the business of rebuilding coin-pianos and band organs) in 1954-55, it is Durrell Armstrong’s recounting, as told by Orval Cooper, that I am using here. Durrell had been in contact with Huish, and had actually visited him in his home in December of 1954, not too long before Huish’s growing legal problem with Knott's Berry Farm came to a head.
According
to the late Orval Cooper, who was a close friend of Huish, and who had
apparently helped him remove the 29-C PianOrchestra from the Banner Theater,
Bob Huish had been the caretaker of the coin operated pianos at Knott’s
Berry Farm. When Huish went on vacation for two weeks, someone else
collected the money from the coin-pianos. The trouble began when Walter
Knott realized that the receipts for the two weeks Huish was absent were
double that normally collected. Suspecting foul play, Walter Knott
confronted Bob Huish upon his return to work, and not wanting to prosecute,
he offered to let Huish repay the money allegedly taken.
Another, and rather different, story about how Mr. Huish allegedly got into legal trouble is recalled by Q. David Bowers. The firm of Hathaway & Bowers, Inc. (1967 - 1972) had limited business dealings with Knott's Berry Farm, but during the course of this interaction came the story that Bob Huish had been caught swiping gold nuggets that Knott's Berry Farm used to "plant" for paying tourists who "panned for gold" at the popular gold-panning amusement attraction. But whether this story is true, or not, or whether both this and the above version have some validity, cannot be confirmed. What is known for certain is that the outcome of the dispute between Huish and Knott's Berry Farm resulted in a tragic ending for Mr. Huish.
The exact chain of events that followed is unknown, but during this period of accusation and growing tension, Durrell Armstrong had agreed to buy a group of Wurlitzer Concert PianOrchestra rolls from Huish. Before the rolls were shipped, however, Durrell thinks this was in 1956, Bob Huish shot himself in the head, ending the life of an apparently very talented but disillusioned man. When Durrell Armstrong contacted Huish's wife, she remembered the sale of the rolls to Durrell and shipped them off to him without delay. The 29-C PianOrchestra, as part of a negotiated settlement with the Huish estate, became the property of Knott’s Berry Farm.
In
May of 1965 I had my uncle, Richard F. Hathaway, telephone Walter Knott
regarding the 29-C PianOrchestra. My Grandfather, Jesse E. Hathaway, first
met Walter Knott during one of his circa 1900 bicycle trips from Los Angeles
to Julian, California, to supervise and assist in the de-flooding of
gold/silver mines in the area. Walter was a bellboy in a small hotel in
Pomona, California, where my Grandfather stayed overnight on his way to and
from Julian. Walter Knott began his farming career in Santa Fe Springs,
under the name of Preston & Knott, on property that belonged to my
Grandfather. Then, when the partnership fell apart, Walter moved to Buena
Park, starting a Boysenberry farm. Thus, my grandparents and parents had
intimately known the Knott family. That is why I had my "Uncle Dick"
telephone Walter Knott.
Agreeing
to look into the matter, Walter Knott responded to my uncle in writing, with
a long and friendly letter, reminiscing about old, mutual acquaintances.
Only the first paragraph refers to the orchestrion, and is as follows: "It
is true, I find that we do have the machine that you refer to and due to its
size and height, we have never put it out although our man has nearly
completed the overhaul. When I saw the room it is taking up in his shop, I
thought he would be delighted to get rid of it, but he was not. For one
thing, the one Terry has is pretty big too, and almost as high. He has the
idea that it is worth a minimum of $3500.00--money must be getting awfully
cheap."
Since that time, the PianOrchestra has been displayed intermittently at Knott’s, for certain during the years 1982 through 1985, when it was on display in a museum building, but mostly it remained stored in a damp and cluttered warehouse.
The
instrument was removed from the Knott's Berry Farm, Buena Park, California,
warehouse area immediately after purchase and then shipped to Ron Cappel,
Atascadero, California, for a complete cosmetic and mechanical restoration.
As of the year 2007, work on the casework has been completed, as well as the
meticulous and very time consuming work on many of the interior components.
In January, of 2008, the spectacularly restored Style 29C Mandolin PianOrchestra was once again back to beautiful playing condition, and its quality and appearance rivaled that of a brand new orchestrion. Then, after partial disassembly and careful packing the grand machine was ready for shipment to its eagerly awaiting owner in Florida.
Anyone
familiar with the PianOrchestra prior to its total restoration can attest to
its thoroughly worn out condition due to many decades of commercial use and
abuse. numerous original parts were missing, all of which were painstakingly
recreated right down to the smallest detail. For instance, all lead tubing
and the special Philipps wide-radius brass fittings were carefully
re-manufactured, with the large cardboard wind and vacuum trunks re-created
in the same style as the original. The piano was so worn out that it
required many new parts, and the main valve chest/stack assembly below it
had to be re-constructed, using newly stamped valve plates replicating the
original ones. Additionally, the animated scene had to be re-created, since
the original scene and all related components were missing without a trace.
All in all, the meticulous cosmetic and mechanical restoration was a
monumental undertaking, but one that fortuitously came together easily and
magnificently. Without a doubt, the PianOrchestra is once again as perfectly
beautiful as it was when it originally shipped from the Wurlitzer factory.
Written by Terry Hathaway, with information provided by Durrell Armstrong, Terry Hathaway, Art Reblitz and Brian Smith.
Circa 1912 Wurlitzer catalogue; Art Reblitz; and Brian Smith.
"Music Boxes, Their Lore and Lure," by Helen and John Hoke, 1957, Hawthorne Books Inc., New York.