A Two-hour Tour: the Steinway Factory

Ah, Queens ...

Coming across a blurb in magazine, I remembered that ever since I moved to the New York area I have wanted to visit the Steinway & Sons piano factory. An odd aspiration, I know, yet ever since seeing a television program on the inner-workings of the factory, I thought it would be a cool place to see in person. Actually, this interest in Steinway’s originates from the summer I worked the William Kappell International Piano Competition back in 2007 at the University of Maryland. For two-weeks, as a member of the student stage crew of the Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, I worked rehearsals, recitals (by the likes of Philip Glass and Ahmad Jamal), and concerts--even the final night of completion. Throughout, we were immersed in piano music and inundated with pianos—including those from Kawai, Yamaha, and of course, Steinway. We weren’t piano-movers (c’mon those guys are huge) but on a daily basis we would run the pianos in and out of concert halls and recital spaces throughout the facility. And, since each participant selected a different piano to use for the competition, we would even do grand piano swaps in front of the audience—when smooth transitions are a must. So, while not being a musician I don’t look at a Steinway piano as a top-of-the-line instrument from which to produce remarkable sounds, I instead view it as an immense yet delicate machine—the production of which must be a great story.


The infrequency and timing of the tours (Tuesday mornings) has prevented me from ever going on one. But after reading that blurb, I realized I actually had a rare Tuesday morning free, and as it turns out, a spot became available for the tour after someone cancelled. So this morning, in a chilly drizzle, I strolled from the last stop on the N Train toward the north end of Astoria. Not being a resident, I will refrain from assessing Astoria, but I can say that it is quickly becoming one of the more popular neighborhoods in the boroughs—renowned for its diversity, affordability, and “stuff-to-do”-ity. After a few blocks I reached the end of the residential area and trudged into the industrial zone on the fringes of the East River, passing a Con-Ed plant and the soccer fields of the Federation of Italian American Organizations of Queens. I entered the least-ugly of the interconnected brick factory buildings at the Steinway site and was, without even having my ID checked, directed to a conference room to wait with my fellow tourists. Shortly, our tour guide Bob appeared and indicated the essential objects on the table before us: politely-composed waiver forms and safety goggles—each an imparting a small sense of gravity toward this factory tour.

Steinway mania!

When we’d all arrived, Bob—an affable employee of thirty years, who worked his way from the pattern-making facility into a senior position with the engineering department (after initially concealing his college degree)—enlightened us with the Steinway saga. After a family representative assessed the potential of the New York area, the Steinweg clan—cabinet makers from Germany—emigrated in 1850. Herr Steinweg and sons immersed themselves in the city's 100+ piano manufacturers. Three years later, they considered themselves educated enough in materials, production, and American business practices to open their own company in lower Manhattan. And not too long after, their pianos became known as the best on the market. Expansion first came with a factory in what is now Midtown; then, in the 1870s and ‘80s, the Steinways built a complex in an undeveloped part of Queens—with plenty of space and access to waterways. They constructed a company town, Steinway Village, for their employees—and both the community and factory were nearly self-sufficient: complete with libraries, schools, a convenient bridge to Manhattan, foundries on site, and eventually an elevated railroad line. The plant was once, according to Bob, the largest employer in the city. Later on, the village became part of Astoria, the library incorporated into the Queens system, and the transportation links unified under city-wide administration. And components of the factory—such as the foundry and the blocks-long stacks of drying lumber—have been moved off-site. But the complex in Queens, with about 400 employees, still produces and refurbishes thousands of world-renowned pianos.

the factory

Early on, Bob emphasized that Steinway pianos are all about tonal quality derived by the selection and handcrafting of the lumber. Piano manufacturing is all about wood. And Steinway takes great pride in the care they use with all their materials, but wood is everything. Pianos are basically just very resonant boxes, and every piece contributes to that sound—whether it’s the keys, action, and strings, or the legs, cast-iron harp (support piece), or soundboard (well, especially this). Bob started us in the basement, where we saw a crew of men gluing and bending the laminates that comprise the outer and inner rims of the piano. The selection of lumber begins here, and the craftsmen—even at this stage—consider what the piano will ultimately sound like based on that wood. Later on, Bob brought us to the heated curing room where the moisture of the once supple rims is baked out of them for months. As we ascended and descended stairways (the elevators are for pianos only) connecting the collage of buildings, some constructed in the late 19^th century, we occasionally glimpsed smokestacks from elsewhere in the industrial park, and could even see the Triborough Bridges rising in the morning gloom. But mostly, we were surrounded by the odors, sounds, and partially-constructed pianos as one might expect, though each wing of the factory had its specific purpose.

my bass hammer

Computerized machinery made large-scale cuts for lids and legs, but robotics took a back seat to human operators with the construction of the action—the mechanical components that generate a sound between pressing a key and striking the stings—and especially with tuning. We saw the most workers on the action floor since the intricate pieces of the action are almost completely built by hand, and must be rigorously tested to meet Steinway standards. Our souvenir from the tour is the most recognizable piece (aside from the keys, of course): the hammer, with a hard felt tip carefully formed by a master and apprentice in New Jersey.

But a human touch is even more prized during piano tuning. Despite the uniformity of the manufacturing process, each piano has a unique sound due to the nature of the wood. The ears and careful hands of several technicians hone that sound through several stages of tuning, ending with Wally Boot—a 50-year employee who’s been featured in documentary films about the factory. After it meets his approval, that Steinway—after about a year of construction—is ready for sale, or shipping if it's been commissioned. And much to the tuners chagrin, Steinway pianos will actually sound better years from now than when they left the factory floor. A selection with a potential buyer was in progress, so we actually didn’t get to hear any pianos played at the factory—which was the only downside of the tour.

Thus, I would highly recommend this tour, especially if you are musically-inclined or a wood-working enthusiast. Or, if you think you’ve seen every cool and unique New York attraction. While I’m none of these, I still found it fascinating.