The Rural We: Angelo Paul Ramunni
A former tax accountant in New Canaan, Conn. runs a museum devoted to the accordion.
Whether heard in polka or cumbia music, Weird Al Yankovic tunes or songs by the late ‘90s crop of gypsy-punk bands, the accordion stands alone as a “feel good” instrument. Former tax accountant Angelo Paul Ramunni wants to keep that sound and the feelings it inspires alive for generations to come. In 2011, he and his wife Marcia opened the New England Accordion Connection & Museum Company in North Canaan, Conn. where Ramunni displays, sells and repairs accordions, along with teaching others to play the instrument. On Saturday, April 6 at 1 p.m., Ramunni will perform a short accordion concert and share tales from his lavishly illustrated new book, “Accordion Stories from the Heart,” at the David M. Hunt Library in Falls Village. See the Museum’s website for Ramunni’s other local appearances, including visits to Roxbury, Litchfield and Harwinton this summer.
The museum opened in November 2011, but we had the collection before that. We started in 2008, so for three years I was running around to different tag sales and collectors. My wife came to me one day and said, ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I was storing the accordions in a spare room and it was getting full. We decided to renovate one of the garages we had, so I fixed it up and put the accordions there and that’s where the museum started. It’s the one thing in my life that just started to happen. I was collecting these things but I was thinking ‘why is this happening to me?’ Altogether we have a couple of hundred accordions in the showroom, at least 300 in the museum, and another hundred in off-site storage, so about 600 total.
The accordions themselves are beautiful, but what started to hit me were the stories; they were incredibly important stories. Throughout history, the accordion was usually taken out at an important moment — if you wanted to have fun or celebrate. The memories clung to the accordions and they became valuable to families for that reason.
Last year, an 88-year-old former Radio City Rockette called and she wanted to donate an accordion. Her niece drove her here, she walked in with a cane and stopped in the doorway when she saw the 1948 Wurlitzer jukebox. She said ‘Does that thing work? Will it play a polka?’ As soon as the music came on, she threw her cane in the corner. Her niece had a horrible look on her face. She started to dance around the room, twirling on her tiptoes. And I’m running in front to catch her, and her niece is doing the same behind her. She was crying like a baby and sobbing while she’s dancing. When the song was over, she composed herself and apologized. But she had gone from 88 back to 14 again in milliseconds. It stunned me.
People walk through the door and the smell, the sound, it brings them right back to when we were kids. That’s a very peaceful time to be reminded of. Everybody smiles and laughs here. It’s magical. If I could can it or bottle it, I would.
Somebody called two years ago because their mother died, at age 92, and she had played the accordion. The family wanted me to play at her funeral. I said yeah, but I was apprehensive. The acoustics in the church were really something. I started playing ‘Amazing Grace’ and the sound reverberated through the place. When it was over, I was packing up to go and I had my back to the crowd. All of a sudden, I turned and there were 7 or 8 people there. One of the ladies said that she had come there with a pocketbook full of tissues, but the accordion had changed everything. Instead of being dreary, it felt more like a resurrection, like the women who had died was fine now, that she was home.
