John Ford Jr. Can Rebuild an Instrument From the Bottom Up...

Like people, pianos decay over time. The instruments seem to be static, but the strings exert 20 tons of pressure on the frame, which eventually tears the inside compartment apart.  The passing years also ravage the finish and the intricate mechanism known as the action, a series of joints and levers that link the keys with the hammers that strike the strings.

Pianos have one major advantage over humans, though: They can be overhauled to a state as pristine as the day they left the factory floor.

In the piano-rebuilding business, most of the work is done by specialists.  Belly experts fix cracks in the soundboard and repair the pinblock, which holds the tuning pegs of the piano.  Refinishers are the trade's cosmetic surgeons.  Action masters ensure that each key lines up straight and that the hammers hit the strings at the proper angle with the right amount of force.  Tuners add the final touch, turning discord into harmony.

As a general practitioner in a field characterized by a strict division of labor, John Ford Jr. is an anomaly.  Mr. Ford's expertise in all phases of piano rebuilding results from his unusual upbringing, where he learned at the hands of two masters, his grandfather Janos Fekete and his father for whom he is named.

"Very few people are qualified to rebuild a entire piano," said Norman Snyder, who just completed his tenure as president of the New York City chapter of the Piano Technicians Guild.  "A hundred years ago it was more common to have three generations of a family stay in the business, nowadays that's pretty rare."

Mr. Ford's piano lineage stretches back to the 19th century, when his Hungarian-born grandfather came to New York and got caught up in the piano boom.

At the time, pianos were essential fixtures in middle-and-upper-class parlors.  According to the national Piano foundation, consumers bought 171,138 pianos in 1900.  That number soared to 364,545 in 1909, dipped a bit to 347,589 in 1923, and dropped off sharply in the 1930's. 

Mr. Fekete worked as an itinerant action finisher until the early 1910's, when he bought a four-story brick building on east 74th street in Manhattan and ran his rebuilding shop from the ground floor.

"He was a character," Mr. Ford said of his grandfather.  "He was  bald as a cue ball, under 5 feet tall, and a real hustler for work.  I remember him as a guy who ate, breathed, and slept pianos.  He always had on a little apron and worked from dawn to dusk, seven days a week.  He took his last breath in the piano shop."

After Mr. Fekete died in 1958, his son, who shared the same name, changed it to John Ford.  The family continued to live above the shop and John Ford Jr. grew up with tools in his hand and the clear notion that he was being groomed to learn the trade.

"My father didn't believe in child labor laws," he said.  "His motto was 'If a kid can walk, give him a screwdriver."