If a piano could talk, what would it say?

Jeremy Elliott, Sales Manager at piano shop Paul Hahn & Co., tells the life story of a treasured instrument called “the little red piano.”

Nestled intimately in a charming window nook inside the showroom of the Rosedale store, it lives up to its nickname.

Standing just over three feet tall and an octave shy on either end of the keyboard, it fittingly presents a distinct shade of red.

The red piano’s history begins in Boston, circa 1920. About 10 years later, it moved to New York where its previous owner, Eddy Duchin, a famous bandleader at the time, first tickled its ivories.

“He was a big bandleader in the 30s and 40s,” Elliott said. “So famous in fact, that a Hollywood movie was made about his life.”

Known for dazzling audiences with his lively piano style and spirited showmanship, Duchin kept the piano in a Manhattan restaurant where he would frequently perform.

“He had a regular gig at the Tavern on the Green in Central Park,” Elliott said. “That’s where this piano resided, in that restaurant, where dances and concerts were held.”

Perhaps the piano acquired some of its scars at such happenings, namely cigarette burns along the edges of several keys.

“What a lot of jazz guys that smoked would do is they’d turn their cigarette backwards,” he said. “But we’re not sure if that cigarette burn is actually courtesy of Eddy Duchin.”

Although Paul Hahn and Co. specializes in piano restoration Elliott says his team decided to keep the keys in their original condition because of the charm they exude. When it came to the interior of the piano however, they decided to operate.

“We had to do a lot of work to it,” he said. “The heart and soul of any instrument is the pinblock. The tune pins are driven into the pinblock. If the tune pins become loose (or) if the piano’s at a certain age, we have to go in and replace the pinblock, which is the equivalent of open-heart surgery for a piano.”

When staff removed the top part of the piano to get at the pinblock, they uncovered an intriguing detail.

“When we took off the top flap,” Elliott said. “Written in pencil… was the number ‘99′, the letters, ‘NYC’ and the words ’southern blood’ which I thought was pretty cool.”

Elliott doubts that ‘99′ refers to the year of manufacture and is uncertain whether ‘NYC’ pertains to the piano’s previous residence. However, he has another explanation for the latter term.

“‘Southern blood’, we can only imagine, referred to the finish,” he said. “Which is original, as far as we can tell.”

Elliott finds it remarkable that the instrument still functions.

“This piano really shouldn’t work,” he said. “Given the length of the string and everything else.”

Elliott explains how the piano’s ’scale design’, which refers to the length of piano wire inside the instrument, relative to its gauge, determines the quality of its sound.

“Sometimes if the scale design isn’t well done, you wind up with very distinct tonal regions, or you get some part of the piano that is more brilliant than the others,” he said. “With this instrument, it was perfect.”

As perfect as the piano may be, Duchin eventually sold it, starting its journey from Manhattan to Toronto, where it found its way to the store through a family friend of Elliot’s named Joan Francis.

“Her father bought it from him,” he said. “He brought it up to King Township where they lived and my father would visit… and all the time say, ‘I love the piano, I love the piano!’”

Elliott explains why the piano didn’t spend much time at his parents’ house.

“My mother famously said, ‘One piano in the home is enough for anyone,’” he said. “So here it stays as an interesting display piece.”

Since its arrival in the store, the little red piano continues attracting attention from people of all ages.

“Sometimes it’s adults that are pointing it out to their kids,” he said. “Sometimes it’s kids that run right to it.”

Even with the piano’s old age, Elliott believes it should still be played.

“It’s not roped off behind velvet ropes,” he said. “I encourage people to play it.”

Elliott sits down at the piano’s matching red bench, unable to fit his legs beneath the petite instrument. His fingers playfully dance across the keys. Its sound resonates throughout the store.

“It shouldn’t work,” he said with a blend of awe and sincerity. “But it does.”