Newall: At food court, beautiful music recalls the elegance of days past

The pianist arrives as the food court clock strikes noon.

A jazz man at heart, the pianist exudes class. In his sweater vest and tie, Mark Randall sits down at his Baldwin, his sweet, battered Baldwin, nestled among the marble tables and plastic ferns, under the neon lights of the China Pagoda restaurant and the Hair Express salon. He begins to play.

A standard, always. Porter. Gershwin. Jimmy Dorsey, perhaps.

Some barely notice Randall as they pass through the old Lit Bros. building. Others smile appreciatively at the realization that, yes, there is a man playing the piano, and isn't it lovely. And then there are the loyal few - the piano man's regulars.

Jeffrey, his dedicated pupil.

Sebastian, his enthusiastic devotee.

Carmen, his sometimes singer.

Larry the security guard.

For seventeen years, Randall, 64, has provided lunch hour piano accompaniment inside the food court. He is part of a dying breed, of course, his performances a peek into a Philadelphia long past. Days when piano players were fixtures in hotels and upscale restaurants. When there was work to go around. When most people could still pick out a show tune.

Raised in Pittsburgh, he came to Philly in 1976 to earn an M.B.A. from the Wharton School.

As a kid, he learned music from Vince Lascheid, who played organ at Pirates and Penguins games. "A fine pianist," he said.

In Philly, Randall played for school money at Downey's on South Street. Back then, it was a swank singles bar, a groovy hangout for athletes, entertainers, and the Channel 3 news team and other TV personalities. Sinatra came by once.

"Mahogany, brass - very upscale," Randall remembers. "Stars would pass through."

When he completed his M.B.A., Downey's offered him a full-time job. To the horror of his parents, he took it, choosing music over business.

For years, there was steady work in beautiful rooms. The Rittenhouse Hotel. The Four Seasons. The Ritz-Carlton.

But then, the lounge industry dried up. He played the Strawbridge's food court for a while before that closed. Somebody told him no one was playing the Baldwin in the Lit Bros. building. So Randall has, ever since.

"It always answers," he said of his piano. "It always gives back what I put into it."

Four days a week in the food court, he doesn't put out a tip jar. It's a paying gig, and he doesn't want people to see his smiles as anything else than what they are: genuine. He doesn't expect people to clap, but is happy when they do.

He plays at the more upscale One Liberty Center on Wednesdays - pianist Kurt Martin fills in at the Mellon Independence Center those days - and mornings and afternoons at a cancer-treatment center. But he is surprised sometimes by how much he still enjoys just playing to the passing crowds in the food court.

"It's just such a lovely cross-section of urban life," he said.

Everybody from judges to janitors. From casual shoppers to his daily regulars. They were there Monday.

Sebastian Trifiro rode in on the bus from Port Richmond to Eighth and Market Streets to hear the music. He wore a suit for the occasion, calling out tune after tune - "inspirational ones," he said. He seemed as contented as if he were at the symphony.

"If it weren't for the talent, I wouldn't be here," he said.

On break from his job at the Ross clothing store upstairs, Carmen Castilean, 55, unfolded the lyric booklet of his favorite Barry Manilow eight-track. He practices during the week in his bedroom at his mother's house.

"It brings joy in my life," he said.

From the balcony, Larry the security guard belted out a Nat King Cole song. Randall's playing enlightens his day.

"Makes it go easier," he said, smiling.

Jeffrey Vaughn, 63, pulled his chair up close so he could study Randall's fingers as they moved across the keys. A piano player himself, he first heard Randall a year and half ago while shopping.

"I had to go see what was going on," he said. He's been coming ever since.

He closed his eyes in pleasure as Randall played the classic from Casablanca, "As Time Goes By."

"Where else can you hear that?" he asked.

The piano player played on.

mnewall@phillynews.com215-854-2759