Progress: In the Parlor

The Idea: A “fake” (automatic) accordion.

The Motive: To permit non-accordion players to practice a deception.

The Story: Of all human desires none find more panders than the desire to deceive, to make a false effect. For those who are unbeautiful, chemists have always been able to find, in paint and rouge, a cunningdisguise; powder has permitted the dirty to remain unwashed and undetected; wigs are for those who can grow no hair; magicians, incapable of miracles, can conjure up an appearance of supernatural; many a pretentious coping is built, as i to protect the high rooms of some splendid mansion, along an untenanted rood; the vase with one broken handle faces the world with the other.

Last week, a dull-faced, clumsy-looking man sat in his parlor; he was trying to entertain his friends. “Wait a minute.” he told them, “I will get my accordion and play it for you.” At this there was a soft hoot of derisive laughter. Girls nudged each other, men smirked and snickered. . . . Soon “Alf” came back into the room carrying an automatic “accordion” which he had purchased at the Mayfair Plaything Stores, in Manhattan. The instrument was beautifully made; it had cost $70, although a cheaper one could have been procured; it contained, completely hidden, a tone chamber made by a Saxony violin maker and a music rol, much like those used in player pianos. “Alf” lifted his “accordion” and showed it to his friends. Then “Alf” began to waggle it, touching the keys. As he squeezed, there were sweets sounds; as he stretched it, it became apparent to some of his listeners that he was playing “turkey in the straw.” There was a hush in the parlor until “Alf” got through. Then there was jabber of questions: “How did you learn?” . . . . Well I never! . . . Your touch is beautiful, Alf. . . . .Is it hard to play for a beginner, or was it just instinctive with you? . . . Alf, you never told us that you were musically inclined! . . . ” To these questions, “Alf” answered not a word. he brushed a long, curly lock of his hair from his brow, smiled stupidly, and played, “Roamin’ in the Gloamin’ ” on his fake accordion.