NH Jazz fans 2025: Meet Renee Van Leuvan and The Piano.
Music sets the tone and can change one’s mood. It acts fast and without filters bringing more joy and light in our lives. There’s a lot of Jazz musicians and Jazz fans in New Hampshire. My goal in writing about John Coltrane and “Why Jazz is everywhere” was to elicit Ink Link readers’ own stories as to how they found their joy in this genre of music that continues to draw audiences nearly 100 years since it came on the scene.
My first photography award occurred in New Hampshire with the inner workings of this particular piano. Who would have guessed that two decades later I’d be even more involved with music and photography in Manchester. Apparently, I’m not the only one launched by a piano.
Meet Jazz Fan Renee Van Leuvan.
Renee Loves InkLinkNews, loves New Hampshire and Jazz music. Her story revolves around a piano. Her entry jumped with the joy of music and she has been awarded a pair of tickets to the Rex Theatre Symphony NH Jazz Quartet’s City Lights & Blue Nights concert.
Renee Van Leuvan in her own words:
My music story began as a 6 year old while watching a tiny black-and-white TV with my folks at our camp in Upstate New York.
A man was playing the biggest piano I had ever seen. Although he was wearing flashy evening clothes, it was the music that had me spellbound. I announced to my folks, if they bought me a piano I would learn to play just like ‘that man’. That man was Liberace.
My folks weren’t rich. Dad worked as the foreman and crane operator in a junk yard. Mom operated a sewing business from a tiny room at our house. Mom was beyond thrifty even by 1950s standards.
A short time after my ‘announcement’ we took a long car ride to the nearest large city and visited a store chock full of pianos. After careful inspection and a good bit of adult yakking, my folks bought me a piano.
It was a Baldwin Acrosonic spinet. Not exactly the concert grand played by my new idol, Liberace, but hey, it was MY piano. My Baldwin. Mom arranged for my piano lessons to be given by Miss Bortle. A very proper lady, who came to our home every Friday, precisely at dinnertime, to conduct my lesson.
Mom is Italian. Italians feed everyone who enters or is near their home. I mean everyone. Every Saturday my Gram had a nice lunch ready for the trash man, Mr. VanPatten. Cookies and fresh bread were offered to the workers walking past our house to the factory next door.Needless to say, Miss Bortle was provided with a full plate, served on a TV tray table beside the piano.
My lessons were memorable. Miss Bortle counting aloud between bites of Mom’s delicious food. The fork occasionally being used as a means to emphasize the correct tempo. The aroma of the meal I was yet to eat mingling with my attempts to learn my scales and cords.
Mom knew piano lessons without practice was a waste of money. Never one to not get her money’s worth, Mom made a deal with me. Each evening, after dinner, my chore was to help clear the table and dry dishes. Mom’s deal was instead of my after dinner chores, I could choose to practice the piano. A masterful way to ensure I practiced everyday. A real win for me. I loved fiddling on my piano and dreaded drying dishes.
My lessons with Miss Bortle continued for many years. At one point Miss Bortle hosted a recital for her students. It was held in a beautiful home owned by our local doctor. I was awestruck when we students went for a practice session. The piano was a baby grand. I played Sur la Glace à Sweet Briar (On the Ice at Sweet Briar). Hopefully it was with only a few mistakes. The baby grand made it a memorable evening.
My summers were spent in Connecticut with my Dad’s sister, my Aunt Dot and her husband my Uncle Lyle. Their home was filled with fun. Long days playing in the garden, yard and woods. Evening were centered around….the piano. Aunt Dot played anything and everything. Uncle Lyle, a tenor, stood by the piano and belted out show tunes and old-time songs. I took my turn at the keyboard, playing whatever new thing I had been practicing.
My Italian grandparents lived across the street from us. A huge garden provided fresh vegetables and the grape arbors made a shady spots to sit and of course….eat! From their home, opera played on an ancient record player. I grew up listening to Caruso when other kids were listening to whatever was on the Top Ten.
My Baldwin followed me when I married. We initially lived in a very small, 10×50 foot trailer. Mobil Home in today’s fancier parlance. We immediately added a room to ensure my Baldwin had a spot to live.
My Baldwin followed me to New England where over the years she lived in various states and many homes. At some point my sister, who lived in New York, decided she would like to learn to play the piano. My trusty Baldwin was hauled back to New York as a gift to her.
When I moved to Manchester, New Hampshire, my Baldwin had been gone for about a year. While my son was home from college he and I trekked around looking for my next piano. We found her in long since shutter shop in Hooksett. A Vose & Son’s baby grand with her legs removed and her case propped against a wall. I bought her immediately. After having her restored and tuned, she became a mainstay in my home.
I can play the piano!
I’m not a musician, nor can I name most tunes, but Liberace started me on a crazy path that brought a piano into my life and a whole lot of great memories. And although, I was unable to fulfill my promise to my folks (to play ‘just like that man’ Liberace), I can play the piano!
Keith, it was fun to recall these great memories as I wrote my music story. Thanks for the opportunity to jog down memory lane.
I would love a pair of tickets to the concert at the Rex this Thursday evening to hear the NH Symphony Jazz Quartet.
And – yes, you have my permission to share all or part of my music story in your Jazz conversation.
Manchester NH – an excellent choice.
Manchester has been my chosen home for over 40 years. I literally picked it because it had some very specific attributes. I knew no one in Manchester – nor did I work here. Manchester’s location, size and vibe felt like where I wanted to live. Over the years, I am frequently reminded I made an excellent choice.
The InkLink is a gem. I love it, and Manchester.