Back in the sixties, I was hired by an ad agency to write copy on the Aeolian Piano Company account. My first assignment was an ad to be placed in The New York Times for one of their grand pianos.

The only background information I received was some previous ads a few faded close-up shots . . . and of course, the due date.

The Account Executive was slightly put out by my request for additional information and his response to my suggestion that I sit down with the client was, "Are you one of those? Can't you just create something? We're up against a closing date!"

I acknowledged his perception that I was one of those, which got us an immediate audience with the head of the agency.

I volunteered that I couldn't even play a piano let alone write about why anyone should spend $5,000 for this piano, especially when they could purchase a Baldwin or Steinway for the same amount.

Both allowed the fact they would gladly resign the Aeolian business for either of the others, however, while waiting for that call, suppose the deadline was attended to.

I persisted and, reluctantly, a tour of the Aeolian factory in upstate New York was arranged. I was assured that "we don't do this with all of clients" and my knowledge as to the value of company time was greatly reinforced.

The tour of the plant lasted two days and although the care and construction appeared meticulous, $5,000 still seemed to be a lot of money.

Just before leaving, I was escorted into the showroom by the National Sales Manager. In an elegant setting sat their piano alongside the comparably priced Steinway and Baldwin.

"They sure do look alike," I commented.

"They sure do. About the only real difference is the shipping weight-ours is heavier."

"Heavier?" I asked. "What makes yours heavier?"

"The Capo d'astro bar."

"What's a Capo d'astro bar?"

"Here, I'll show you. Get down on your knees."

Once under the piano he pointed to a metallic bar fixed across the harp and bearing down on the highest octaves. "It takes 50 years before the harp in the piano warps. That's when the Capo d'astro bar goes to work. It prevents that warping."

I left the National Sales Manager under his piano and dove under the Baldwin to find a Tinkertoy Cap d'astro bar at best. Same with Steinway.

"You mean the Capo d'astro bar really doesn't go to work for 50 years?" I asked.

"Well, there's got to be some reason why the Met uses it," he casually added.

I froze. "Are you telling me that the Metropolitan Opera House in New York City uses this piano?"

"Sure. And their Capo d'astro bar should be working by now."

Upstate New York looks nothing like the front of the Metropolitan Opera House where I met the legendary Carmen Rise Stevens. She was now in charge of moving the Metropolitan Opera House to the Lincoln Center.

Ms. Stevens told me, "About the only thing the Met is taking with them is their piano."

That quote was the headline of our first ad.

The result created a six year wait between order and delivery.

My point is this. No matter what the product or service, I promise you, the Capo d'astro bar is there.

© 2005 Soter Associates Inc.