Photos by Stephanie Klein-Davis | The Roanoke Times

At 87 years old, Charlie Rowe owns and operates Melody Haven in downtown Roanoke with his wife, Sue. In a society that promotes inexpensive replacements, Melody Haven tackles some tough repair jobs, including this professional-quality accordion.

Photos by Stephanie Klein-Davis | The Roanoke Times

Melody Haven has been a part of Sue and Charlie Rowe's family since it opened in 1934. The couple say they spend about 60 percent of their time in the store, and despite the long history in Roanoke, Charlie Rowe said business is "terrible."

Dan Casey is The Roanoke Times' metro columnist.

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Charlie Rowe likes to tell the story about the guitar buyer at a big-box retailer who returned to get the instrument tuned.

A blank look dropped like a veil over the cheery salesperson's face. "Huh?" was the puzzled reply. Soon, the guitar was one more item in a pile behind the returns desk.

Such a scenario is unthinkable at Melody Haven, the downtown Roanoke music retailer on Church Avenue run by Rowe and his wife, Sue.

"We service what we sell," she says proudly.

For 75 years, the Rowe family has sold musical instruments that range from $1 kazoos to $45,000 organs. They have installed them, tuned them, repaired them and taught students to play them. For Charlie and Sue, spreading music is a mission.

Such devotion was recognized this year when NAMM, the International Music Products Association, awarded Melody Haven the Milestone Award for 75 years of service.

How much longer Melody Haven can hang on is an open question, however. Charlie, 87, says business is "terrible." But "as long as I'm able, I'll be teaching. Why quit something you love?"

A legacy for generations

Melody Haven was the creation of Charlie's father and namesake, the Cincinnati Conservatory-trained professor Charles H. Rowe Sr. It opened in 1934.

Rowe was a traveling musician from New Orleans who played a date in town back in August 1919. In that audience was Lessie Dare, a young woman from Goodview who requested Rowe's autograph. By the end of the year they were married and his traveling days were mostly over.

But his legacy was just beginning.

Here in Western Virginia, Rowe, and later Charlie, taught private music lessons. The professor wrote for the Gibson guitar company and created and published music teaching methods. Charlie says his father helped launch music programs in public schools, which had none, and at Virginia Tech.

Multiple generations of the musically inclined profited from that tutelage. "Thousands and thousands of students," Charlie says.

Moms, pops, dinosaurs

It was every bit a family business. Charlie's brothers Joe and Jim and their sister Joy were in it, too. Sue, who is 68, joined after she and Charlie married 46 years ago. They say they still spend about 60 percent of their lives in the store.

Charles Rowe Sr. succumbed to emphysema in 1970. Lessie Rowe, who also worked in the store, died in 1991. Joe and Jim are retired, and Joy lives in Midlothian. Charlie and Sue carried on.

Family businesses such as Melody Haven are part of a fabric of community that has been fraying for years and is now horribly threadbare.

In its place, Charlie says, is a consumerist malady that compels us to throw out anything that breaks and hunt like hungry lions for the cheapest replacement. He calls it TMDS.

"You know what that stands for, don't you?" Charlie asks. "Too Much Damn Stuff."

'Bring it in'

Which brings us back to a call Charlie got recently.

The caller had a gorgeous old professional-quality accordion that got wet in his basement and wouldn't play. Could Charlie fix it?

Charlie and Sue don't solicit this kind of work because it's so time-consuming. But Charlie knows that accordion repairmen are about as common these days as blacksmiths.

"Bring it in," Charlie said.

Last week, he had that instrument torn apart in his studio. You have never seen so many springs and reeds and levers and itty-bitty pieces. I doubt a nuclear bomb is as complicated.

Soon, that squeeze box will be making music again. But you can see the day coming when the last Charlie in the world hangs up his hat.

One day, all that will be left are the smiling nameless faces in big-box retailers who will you sell anything but can teach you nothing. Repair an ancient accordion? Forget it.

We'll all be a lot poorer for that.

Dan Casey's column runs on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays.