r/ie jay man's desire Tom McNeil is to the piano what Van Cliburn is to ... well, the piano. You won't find McNeil sharing the stage with Leonard Bernstein at Carnegie Hall (you might find him there but it would probably be leaning over the inside of the piano rather than sitting in front of it). His hands are no less important than Cliburn's and his contribution to music no less worthy. Dealing with intricacies that would impress Beethoven, McNeQ strips down, repairs, reas¬ sembles and re finishes grand pianos — those beautiful monsters you have seen in your grandmother's living room or just over Leonard Bernstein's left shoulder on the children's Part garage mechanic, part welder, part carpenter, McNeil measures, cuts, shapes, cajoles, maneuvers and molds old grands into new—an appreciable art when one considers that he is dealing with 12,000-plus pieces of a complex machinery, not to mention the fact that his margin of error is limited to a tolerance of 1000th of an inch. The range of sizes and shapes he works with vary as much as the work that needs to be done on them — from a heavy cast iron plate that has to be maneuvered into position with pulleys to a pinboard swisscheesed with tiny openings that need to be periodically remeasured to make sure they will fit exactly. McNeil is paid well for his work and works well for what he is paid. He earns as much as $3000 a job, putting close to 500 hours into each. And, like Cliburn, he numbers Michigan's Interlochen among his clients. Working out of his home at 119 Allen Street in Lansing, McNeil and his assistant, Laura Quackenbush, seldom need to send away for any materials. His workshop is studded with equip¬ ment and tools, a collection that has grown since his initial interest in rebuilding pianos. "I've played piano since I was a kid (he is an accomplished pianist in his own right) and I decided I wanted to learn about it from both sides," he says. His interest got a boost while he was earning a B.A. in music at MSU (he is currently working on a masters in musicology here). He met, and apprenticed under, a craftsman whose name he refuses to reveal. 'There are a lot of people who want to get into continued on page 8 Lansing craftsman Tom McNeil spends up to five hundred hours rebuilding a single piano. The more than 200 holes in a grand's pin block (above) must be pre¬ cisely measured and drilled. This piece alone was fitted over 60 times before it was completed. Photos by Dave Olds no# &q± Lifting the heavy iron is made easier by use oi a set of pullies. There is good reason for them as this hunk of cast iron restrains more than 20 tons of force when the piano is strung. McNeil's work on the 12,000 plus part grands also requires intense concentration as he must work within a tolerance of 1000th of an inch. Highway 61 where are you? By FRANK FOX It's 3 a.m. on 1-96 and the trucks are rolling. They're driving onward, ever onward through the muddy night with truckers' teeth grinding and white knuckles strangling steering wheels—the toll exacted by too little sleep, too much stimuation and hallucinations of giant armadillos in cowboy hats singing "Happy Trails to You." The highway flutters and teases, the enveloping night becomes a massive wall of cotton and King Edward cigars are being chewed into tarry goo. Suddenly, like a beacon sweeping across an oily sea, a huge sign comes into view above the 1-96 Overpass at U.S. 27. It can be seen for miles down the road, towering improbably into the sky. Spot¬ lights dance over the face of the orange "76" ball atop this truckers' landmark, which proclaims Don's Windmill Truck Stop at the southwest approach to Lansing. Beaming in on the sign, truckers wheel into the vast parking lot and join the dozens of idling rigs lined up in hulking rows behind the restaurant. Not just a few trucks, but trucks everywhere—big Volkswagen- eating mothers that have barreled in from all across the Rand-McNally hinterlands of the night. The lot's capacity is from 75 to 100 rigs and it is full of diesels with engines idling low and gutteral in a chorus of subdued power. Trucks pull in from the highway and slide up to one of the numerous fuel islands. Trucks move out of their and are immediately replaced. The parking spaces rhythmn never ceases. The lot is a democratic meeting ground for trucks from across America. Aristocratic Kenworth Diesels, Peterbilts and White Freightliners stand amidst plebian Fords and Chevrolets. "Morash the Mover's" Massachusetts Ford sits just down the row from "The Spirit of 76," a flag-bedecked Peterbilt out of L.A. Moving vans and steel haulers, auto transports and trucks loaded The highway never ends. A white glare develops in front of the eyes and there is little difference between the sun and the moon. There is solitude, plenty of it, and the infrequent pleasing glow of the three little words that tug at the oil-slick building up in the heart: "Truckers welcome here." Photos by Dale Atkins to capacity with obscure machinery mingle open up a trailer like a can of beans and dreams beneath the tall light towers that rise high above of the good luck comin' just down the road. the lot. Carl Harvey operates a small fleet of trucks in Here are trucks designed to haul freight in an Fennville, Michigan. He has heard his share of unpretentious, workmanlike manner, and there truckers' stories. are lavish, fully-equipped custom jobs—luxurious "One of our drivers was in a small town in New creations for the connoiseur of diesels. York State and had stopped to eat and had The trucks line up behind the fueling station parked on a hill above a restaurant," Harvey and in front of a service garage. Farther down is recalled. "He had just finished his breakfast and an older truckers' motel but the focal point of the was checking out when the waitress said 'Holy complex is the new, two-story combination smokes, here comes your truck.' restaurant, motel and truckers' general store. "The air had bled out of his brakes and the One of the first things that one sees upon truck came down the hill and hit the waitress' entering the restaurant is a sign prominently car. The car came right through the big plate hung over the near counter, which reads: glass window and wiped out the whole front of "Reserved for Professional Drivers. Pro¬ the restaurant completely. Lock, stock and fessional drivers operate on a time schedule. barrel." This area is reserved to assure they are not Harvey had the look of a man who could cope delayed." with having a Mack truck fall on his big toe as he There they are under the sign, the professional recollected other happy moments. drivers—and not a taxi driver among them. "I'm on call 24 hours a day. So it's nothing to They crouch down low over their menus in have a driver call me up at 3 o'clock in the fur-lined vests, plaid shirts, western jackets, morning and say 'I've got a problem,' " Harvey battered cowboy hats and clutch worn boots- explained. running fingers over sandpaper faces and won't "So I asked him, well what's your problem?" you please warm up my coffee ma'am? "And he told me, well. .you know, my trailer . They sit on the stools at the counter, just broke in two right in the middle of Interstate occasionally grinning at one another as someone 65 just south of Indianapolis with 22 tons of steel recounts a well-remembered tale that might best on it. be forgotten. "It makes you wonder what you've got to do They are twice-told tales, to say the next." least—tales of getting stuck like a mole in a The waitresses know what to do next: turnpike tunnel, stories of low bridges that can continued on page 6 A trucker's rig is his mother, lover, abuser, companion and soul. He spends most of his waking — several of his sleep¬ ing — hours in the cab, the nerve center of his livelihood with hot coffee, stale rolls and the humane crackle of the CB unit to remind him he is alive. Photos by Dale Atkins mokies and plain brown wrappers continued from page 5 smile, be nice to the drivers and bring more coffee. Joke with the boys, take an interest in what they have to say and keep them happy so they'll come back next time. "The average trucker is a very friendly fellow, a hard worker," explained Don Millisor, the truck stop's owner. "But once in a while you get one who is irritable or tired, particularly when the weather is bad and things haven't been running smoothly. We try to keep our spirits up and keep them happy." "There are a lot of trucking companies who run 1-96 every day of the week. So we get to know these drivers who run the expressway. My waitresses and my fuelers become very attached to these people," he said. Millisor said truckers' evaluation of the service at a truck stop can make or break a business. "The drivers have a grapevine that you wouldn't believe—and that can go good or bad. If you do a good job you're going to get a good reputation and if you do a bad job you're going to lose your business in a hurry," he said. "We do a lot of business that isn't truckers. We do a lot of tourist business, but our truckers are number one as far as we're concerned." The Windmill's interest in truckers is reflected in the plethora of items in the truckers' general store which opens a few feet off the restaurant. It's a Macy's of the open road. The shelves are lined with western shirts, jackets, slacks flared for pointed-toed cowboy boots, mirrors, red warning flags, wrenches, Mack Truck belt buckles and fancy stick shift knobs. Then there is the display case full of citizens' band (CB) radio gear, whi h is becoming to Smilin'Ed from Mary Lou Angels in padded shoes and .. support hose. — playin' that sweet country Waitresses in a truckstop, music for all those turtle- heroines of countless off-key smashin' truckers out on country ballads, always ready Highway 61 with steaming Java or to lend an ear to everyone's woes. essential equipment for any well-outfitted rig. How many gallons of coffee to These short range, two-way radios are used by truckers to report accidents, find out the they pour in a night? How many weather up the road, relay important messages sizzling hamburgers do they — and check out the cops. deliver to hungry truckers who "Legally they're supposed to have the radios devour them in three bites and registered and use call letters, but I don't know out the door? anybody who does," Carl Harvey explained. "So the truckers use 'handles.' Everybody has How often do they fend off the a handle. This is a code name. These are same over-used lines from everything from 'Dope Addict' to 'Kingfish' to characters who imitate W. C. 'Deerslayer' to 'Fifth Wheel' to 'Piston.' Some of them are real winners." Fields and come off like Joe "If you don't understand what they're Potatoes? saying, it's a completely foreign language," Harvey But they maintain. They keep added. their cool and they bolster the When one has a little knowledge of the truckers' CB argot, listening to them out on the spirits of countless denizens of highway can be a real gas. A state cop becomes a the night who wander in for "smokey," a state cop in an unmarked car is a dinners of chocolate cake and "smokey in a plain brown wrapper," or in a ketchup. "Tiajuana Taxi," is he's in a marked car. A They recommend the pie of the deputy sheriff is a "county mountie." A "picture taker" is a radar cop and a "scalehouse" is a truck weigh station. "It's really hilarious when a picture taker day and serve up special chil- shows up," Harvey said. "Everybody knows it's drens' portions that are mashed there but you'll hear the same message a into unrecognizable nothingness hundred times. One guy will pass the radar, see it and report it. Then the next guy behind him by fiesty little tykes who snap at will confirm it." them with cap pistols and point at "Then the next guy will say, 'yes, it's still them like waitresses who came there, everybody watch out for a picture taker at from Mars in space helmets. 19 mile marker on the north bound lane,' and so But they never show fatigue, on," he said. never fail to laugh at tired humor Harvey explained that drivers have been or to say that some ominous little getting far less tickets since the advent of the truckers' CB network. beast scattering sugar all over "They have a constant communication with the floor is the cutest little other drivers and know where every police trucker on wheels. officer is and where radar is set up. They know u|0|d puo P at 25, maybe 30 miles ahead that, say, there is radar set up at the 16 mile marker. So they know when they get to the 18 mile marker to start slowing down is they are in fact speeding." Harvey said police agencies do not get off on CB equipment at all. Out in Don's parking lot, sitting in a high cab festooned with decals and a small American flag, a trucker sips his lip-blistering coffee and flips on his AM radio. Immediately he picks up on the overdrive voice of Charlie Douglas, broadcasting the "Charlie Douglas Road Gang on Radio Interstate 87," from radio station WWL, New Or-le-ans." And our bt y Charlie is in fine form tonight: ".. .the Charlie Douglas Road Gang, broadcasting this morning in West Memphis Arkansas, the Mid-Continent Truck Stop at the Highway 61 by-pass north of the freeway. . . Now you must understand, Charlie Douglas is no ordinary DJ. No way. He's out there in the middle of the God-awful night at some fried catfish truck stop in the South broadcasting to dry-mouthed, wide-eyed truckers all over the high-gear flatlands of America. . .we're at Interstate 55. . Charlie is in the groove tonight, plugged right in, he is.. .moving like an overloaded steel hauler down a steep grade. He's pushing truck stops and friendly truckers' motels from Florida to Mississippi, from Massachusetts to all points down the line. .trucks using the Royal Guard . by-pass filter on the Royal Guard 30-60 program can extend oil change intervals to 60,000 miles. . Charlie is talking to visiting truckers on the air, hyping the hospitality just down the road and dedicating Merle Haggard tunes to Smilin' Ed from Mary Lou—playin' that sweet, sweet country music for all those turtle-smashin' truckers out on Highway 61. . . ". .and that was 'All I Have to Offer You is Me,' from Charlie . Pride. And that's for A.H. Montgomery, a National Foods driver out of New Orleans going to Baton Rouge, from Rosemary to Ozona Mississippi. . And its 3 a.m. on the darkened highways and glowing truck stops from here to the paved horizon—and the trucks are rolling. The conversation is free, the coffee cheap, as the hours crawl by and the days are measured in con¬ crete, and it's only a short while before the rig is refueled. On your way again, tip¬ ping your hat to the gods of the highway, hoping you're still around for the next cup of coffee. continued from page 2 out a couple of offers but says they were not things like this and he doesn't want to be substantial enough. hassled," McNeil explains. Meanwhile, he does a lot of work for MSU. Rhapsody McNeil also claims a longtime interest in woodworking and points to a refinished in rosewood 1860 model grand he rebuilt for friends sings in the Plymouth Congregational Church choir, and improves on his craft. Whatever his future plans hold, McNeil is as his piece de resistance. living evidence that there is an elusive beauty in His future plans include completing his the hands of men that surfaces in those who in rosewood masters in musicology and becoming a resident piano technician at a university. He has checked construct the instruments of music as well as those who play them. Tom McNeil, 28, has been rebuilding grand pianos for a quarter of his life¬ time. A graduate student in music¬ ology at MSU, Mc- neU's talented hands and fingers trans¬ form quaint wooden relics into sculptured instruments with clear, delicate sound. He has studied pia¬ nos and played them longer than he has repaired them, and occasionally visits his finished products, finished products. This one, rebuilt for his friends Tom and Lisa Hamerski, is a circa 1860 model McNeil declares his masterpiece. Photos by Dave Olds