Oscar's Accordion

I grew up in a small village named Wilmer where everyone knew their neighbor. My grandmother and grandfather lived in the house next door. My Aunt Mae and Uncle Lou lived three houses down and the front of our double house was a candy store. Mrs. Raser, our landlord, ran the store, which had cabinets filled with penny candy, ice cream that was hand dipped and soda that was to be found in a big red ice box with double lids on the top. One step out my front door and two steps into the candy store and I was in heaven. 

Television was something new and had not yet taken a major role in a child's life. We had one and as I remember we got three stations with interference. There was often snow and lines in the big 10-inch screen. On Saturday morning you would find my dad and uncle on the roof turning the antenna to the optimum position. This was in the days before satellites and the signal was broadcast from towers. My dad and uncle never were able to grasp this concept. The towers were in different locations. They would turn the aerial until one channel was clear. Then to their amazement the other channels lost their signal strength. We got channels 3, 6 and 10, but not at the same time.

Saturday night, we often went next door to my grandpop's house. The entertainment was music. Oscar, my grandfather, had a friend named Albert who drove up from Norristown and when we saw the old gray Plymouth in the driveway, it was time to go over for the evening's concert. Albert played the mandolin and banjo and Oscar played an accordion and sometimes a guitar and harmonica. They played on and on and I was totally impressed. They played music that was much like the string bands still play today. "Golden Slippers" was their favorite and they always played it near the end of the evening when things were winding up.

I was so young that I was in awe of the music I was hearing and totally biased because it was from our family group. I had heard the story many times from my father of how my grandfather had acquired this white mother of pearl accordion. As a young farm hand he had learned to play it at the neighbor’s farm where he worked. When the owner died he asked his widow if he could buy it and the price was paid in two years of part time labor. 

 It came as a big surprise on the evening that my grandfather announced to all that he had amended his will stating his accordion would go to the family member able to play it upon his death. It came as a bigger surprise the following week when a music teacher from Spring City came to our house to start giving me lessons.

I hated the lessons. I didn't have any natural musical talent and when I sat in our dining room looking out the window at my friends playing ball it was painful. My father studied the situation and decided I needed my own accordion. He purchased a 90 bass Horner model that cost him a couple weeks salary. The teacher continued the lessons and I was not showing any progress.  Months turned into years and at $3 a lesson the teacher was never going to give up on me. My dad decided that the problem was that I needed a bigger accordion. It was an odd conclusion to say the least. This boy can't handle a smaller one so let's get him a 120 bass full size accordion. I remember it was a used Excelsior model that cost $300 with the trade in.

In my third and final year of lessons, I managed to play a couple of songs. I can remember them well as there were only two. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" and "Good King Wenceslas" were the two songs I was able to play and they were barely recognizable. I felt a burden had been lifted from me and my father felt certain I would get the white accordion when my grandfather was gone.

My grandfather died in November of 1963. Sometimes things don't work out the way we plan them. My Uncle Harry and Aunt Mae were the executors of the will. They didn't call for auditions but made a joint decision that young Oscar, Harry's son and Grandpop's namesake should be given the accordion.  I guess my dad should have named me Oscar.  As consolation I was given my grandfather's banjo, the one Albert played, and I still have it.

I ran into my cousin Oscar a few years ago and asked him what he did with the old accordion. He had it stored in his attic and was not aware of the leak in the roof that totally destroyed the remains of grandpop's old white accordion.