At exactly noon, Fred German enters Hendricks Chapel. He briskly walks down the center aisle, reaches the stage and begins laying out his lunch. He talks while he eats and he eats while he unfurls the quilt cover of a black piano.

He only has 30 minutes, and he wants to fill them with music.

Fred takes a seat at the Baldwin with his mouth still full of words and bits of apple. Finally, he relaxes, places his fingers atop the ivory, and tells a story.

This is Fred, the Syracuse University maintenance employee who spends nearly every day at noon behind the black and white keys of a piano. He’s been with SU for 19 years: doing plumbing work, making lifelong friends and helping others cope through his music. In February, when the weather remains cold and wet, Fred provides a bit of warmth.

Once he begins playing, Fred’s fingers slide manically across the keys. His style of music is playful and complex with layers of deep octaves ringing below the principle notes. The low booms of the keys ricochet off the walls of Hendricks.

The sound is powerful, and Fred knows it. It’s why he’s been playing at this particular location for nearly 18 years.

“What a place to play,” he said. He loves the people and physical space. When he dies, he wants his service held here.

“…but I have no intention of dying so it’s a bit of a moot point,” he said.

Tiffany Steinwert, dean of Hendricks, said she sees Fred every day and has learned bits about his life in the process. But the best part, she said, is when the quiet calm of her office work is punctuated by Fred’s music — which she calls “a wonderful treat.”

Hendricks is a place where people can really be who they are, she said, adding that she loves when people try and get to know Fred’s talent — and not the one he’s employed to do.

“I think Fred reminds us of life and diversity and the hidden gifts that we all have,” she said.

The story of Fred’s hidden gift begins in Queens, N.Y. At four years old, his mother tried to get him into piano lessons, but when those fell through, he picked up the guitar. Later in life he drifted back toward the piano, experimenting and building off his early childhood foundation.

But why come back to the piano? “That’s what God gave me to play,” Fred said, quickly adding that he’s not religious, but spiritual. “I feel like I’m made to do this.”

In 1985, Fred followed his former wife to Syracuse. After having a son, watching his ex-spouse graduate and getting laid off, Fred applied to work at SU.

Alyssa, Fred’s oldest daughter, said she remembers her father’s knack for music, though it was first on the guitar. It was only in high school when she began witnessing Fred create music.

“It’s nice to see him channel that creative energy in that way,” she said.

First in Crouse-Hinds Hall and later in Hendricks, piano playing has helped Fred with a lot, namely problems with his first marriage. The tougher times allow him to be more creative and compose pieces, he said, but not during that half hour of musical bliss during his lunch break. Those 30 minutes are only for songs he truly knows and enjoys.

Fred’s repertoire is deep with originals: “Southwick Song,” about the sounds of waves on Southwick Beach; “911,” a piece he wrote in honor of those lost in the Sept. 11 attacks; and a still-untitled tribute to his girlfriend Stacy.

He will sometimes tailor the music to others, too, Fred said, especially those who might be upset. He’s had people meditate to his music and others dance to it, too. He even had a man tell him that Fred’s music helped him speak to God again.

The people are both the best and worst parts about working at SU, Fred said. He’s encountered people who misunderstand his work, but some really positive people, too. He’s made four-year relationships, 10-year relationships and all of those in between, just from a few interactions on campus.

“You can walk across this campus and you can say hi to anybody and you pretty much get a smile and wave,” he said. “…that part I love.”

Fred often walks by and strikes up conversation with students during his work. That’s how he met Sarah Kelly, a sophomore biology major and supervisor at Archbold Gymnasium, more than a year ago.

“Just knowing him, I would say he’s probably one of the most sincere men that I’ve met,” she said.

That sincerity transfers to Fred’s musical moments in Hendricks. Kelly said she’s only seen him play a couple times, but loves how invested he becomes in what he’s doing.

Khadija Peek, a first-year law student at SU, has seen that same passion. It’s not always about what a person plays, but the emotion behind it, she said.

Peek has known Fred since she was a sophomore working in Archbold — making faces and dancing every time they saw each other.

He’s a person who will feel like a friend after one encounter. He’s that human interaction that we avoid every day, but that we really need, she said.

Fred’s piano-playing future remains unknown, he said, but he doesn’t want to stop here. He said he wants to record more of his original work and find the perfect venue to play some live gigs.

For now, he’s fine with his piano — his special spot.

Except today, he’s 10 minutes past his 30-minute allotment. He quickly replaces the piano’s quilt cover, kisses his hand and places it atop the instrument. At 12:40, Fred leaves Hendricks — half-eaten lunch, power tools and hidden gift with him.

Published on February 24, 2014 at 10:35 pm

Contact Maddy: mjberner@syr.edu