The Day Levi Celerio's Son Came to Fix Our Piano

(SPOT.ph) It's been a good five or so years since someone last tuned our piano. So when word got around that the son of the late National Artist Levi Celerio, Leon Celerio, was a piano tuner looking for gigs, I reached out immediately. The social media post of one Venus Joy Apresa Pena, which practically advertised his piano tuning and repair services, had made the rounds online so it was not surprising the younger Celerio had his calendar full. But a week later, he showed up at our doorstep.

Tall, lean, and blessed with angular facial features, he immediately spotted our old piano in the corner of the living room and went straight to it, asking questions about the instrument as if checking up on an old friend. Having been raised by a man so in tune with music he could produce it from a leaf, it only made sense.

Mang Leon did a quick check of the keys. I showed him the white key that sometimes got stuck and he played a few scales, which led him to saying something was likely off with our soundboard, too. He deftly opened up the front board, softly depositing it on the floor to reveal all the wires and pegs and wonderful mechanical things that make the instrument. As he continued the checkup, he chatted with my mother and a visiting family friend. He asked what provinces they're from. Cagayan and Bicol, they answered. And off Celerio went again, happily tapping on the keys, playing folk songs from the regions—songs his father might have played when he was still alive or had written lyrics for.

Also read: Today's Google Doodle Pays Tribute to Leaf Musician Levi Celerio

The family tale of Levi Celerio

Leon is the eldest child of Levi Celerio and Lina Belen. He was born in Quezon City in 1958 when his father was already nearing 50 and his mother was 16. Mang Levi was already a widower when he and Lina got together. He was a regular house guest of Lina's father, Victor Belen, also a musician. "Iniimbita niya sa bahay si tatay," Leon shared. "'Pagka tinugtog 'yung composition, si mother ang tumutugtog sa piano, sasabayan niya ng violin." Mang Levi may have already been an accomplished violinist at that time but Lina at 15, Leon said proudly, could play classics like "Rustles of Spring," a 1896 Norwegian piano piece.

Victor Belen was against his daughter's relationship with the violinist. "Hinabol nga sila ni lolo ko, kasi 15 lang si nanay," offered Leon, recalling the story of his parents' elopement. "Napalundag daw sa pader si tatay." Lina's father came around when Leon was born, even building the small family their own room in his compound.

Levi and Lina had a total of four children before ultimately separating. ("Levi had gone through four failed relationships that produced 12 children" says a Pep.ph report). "Marami akong kapatid sa ama, na Ilocano, iba 'yung mother nila." Leon is, however, able to now look back at that part of his past with humor. "Tutal madami namang nanliligaw kay mother, si tatay madaming girlfriend," he said cheekily. 

Both Leon's parents headed to the US when he was young; Lina brought her children over one by one, but Mang Levi came back to the Philippines early on because he could not take the winters and the winter rashes. Leon finished Twelfth Grade in New York and became a working student while taking a few classes. He couldn't decide what he wanted to be, and with the onset of migraine attacks, he chose to go back home to the Philippines, too.

Memories of growing up with Levi Celerio

"Pag Sabado, Linggo, masaya sa bahay namin," Leon recalled of his younger days. "Puro mahilig sa music [ang mga nakatira]. Nag-iimbita ng kaibigan si tatay, mga mahihilig tumugtog. Minsan dinadala niya si Rick Manrique—pag kumanta yun akala mo 'yung sa radyo din eh—tapos si Nova Villa, si Rod Navarro."

Apart from music, Leon shared, Mang Levi liked cigarettes, too—the unfiltered kind. "Alam mo minsan dadaan kami, 'yung vendor, iaabot na lang sa kanya 'yung Pall Mall, 'yung blue seal. Suki siya kasi mahirap bilhin 'yan sa tindahan eh." It was the time when smokes only went for P1 for 10 sticks. And when Pall Mall wasn't available, Philip Morris was his father's go to. They always smelled so good, Leon remembers of his father's cigarettes, but when its the son's turn to light one up, "Nauubo ako. Ang tapang."

Mang Levi, according to Leon, was a funny man and he could still remember the old man's jokes. Here's one that sounds like it could only come from a musician from a very different time:

"May taga-probinsya daw nanood ng sine sa Manila. Tinanong daw ng takilyera 'yung probinsyano: 'Orchestra o balcony?' Alam mo sagot nung probinsyano? 'Hindi pa naman, nasa rondalya.'"

Also read: Meet One of the Last Repairmen Keeping Typewriters Alive in Quiapo

As Leon would repeat many times while tinkering with our piano, Mang Levi was a kind man. Food was, as with many Filipino family, what brought them together. They both had a sweet tooth. Both able to finish a plastic bag of Chocolate Kisses in one sitting. Leon remembers, too, how Mang Levi would bring him to Ongpin—where Mang Levi used to eat with his own mother at Panciteria Manosa. The father-and-son would take a taxi from Cubao and even invite the taxi driver to eat with them. 

One of Leon's treasured stories about his father is the famous one about how playing a leaf saved his life during WWII. Mang Levi would tell it happily throughout the years but there's no denying the graveness of it. As a young man who would walk around with his violin case, he was once stopped by Japanese soldiers accusing him of being a guerilla. Levi quickly plucked a leaf nearby and began producing music with it through his mouth, to prove he was a musician. "Nung tinugtog daw niya, binaba na nung mga Hapon 'yung baril nila," said Leon. "Malaking tulong sa kanya yung dahon at violin." The latter was what got a young Levi out of the streets of Tondo, where he was born in 1910.

Learning the violin was Mang Levi's first step to becoming a famed composer and lyricist credited with 4,000 tracks to his name. But whether those compositions translated to money in his bank account, well— "Si tatay mayaman sa pangalan," was what all Leon could say. "Siya mismo nahirapan kunin sarili niyang royalties, kaya di ko na inaasahan 'yon." 

Mang Levi lived out some of his last years in Camelot Hotel in Quezon City. Leon recalls visiting him there, noting the musician kept his good-naturedness until the end, even cheekily flirting with the wait staff.

How Levi Celerio's son became a piano tuner

Leon became a constant companion to his father and grandfather upon returning from the States. Lolo Victor was a piano tuner himself and taught his apo the tricks of the trade. "'Pag may service siya ng piano, sinasama niya ako. Tinuturuan niya ako."

Mang Levi would also volunteer his son's expertise to friends who had a piano. Leon remembers accompanying his father to visit Restie Umali, and he ended up fixing the composer's piano. "Nagagawa ko talaga! Kunwari walang tunog? Napapatunog ko talaga."

For 40 years now, Leon has been traveling to places where there's a piano to be fixed. He's had gigs in La Union and Baguio—even getting to work on the piano of the Hyatt Terraces before the 1990 earthquake—down to Bataan and more. When he was starting out, he would endure his migraines and continue to write down referrals and addresses of clients in a notebook. When he finished work in one place, he moved on to whichever was next on the list, taking as much joy from the traveling part of the job. 

Now in his 60s, Leon continues to practice the skill passed onto him by his grandfather and father. From his homebase in Marikina, his wandering feet brings him to wherever around Metro Manila a piano needs fixing, continuing to share the stories, and of course, the music.