Thomas Solich is the owner of Solich Piano & Music, which has stores in Cleveland, Columbus, Detroit, and, as of 2022, Pittsburgh. Blind since birth, he became a champion wrestler, classically trained pianist and successful entrepreneur, becoming one of the largest Yamaha piano dealers in the U.S. Solich lives in Columbus, Ohio with his wife Beth and son Thomas Michael.
Q. What is your connection to Pittsburgh?
A. From the beginning, Pittsburgh has been part of who I am. I was born in Warren, Ohio, but my roots were always pulling me toward Pittsburgh, where my grandparents lived in the South Hills. My grandfather worked for U.S. Steel and my mom was one of six children who grew up here, so Pittsburgh was already “home base.” My true connection to Pittsburgh became much deeper when I was less than 1 year old, and my parents noticed something unusual — I was responding to verbal cues with my head and reactions, but not with my eyes.
They brought me to an Eye and Ear specialist within the West Penn Health System, where I was diagnosed with Leber’s condition, which affects fewer than one in a million people and would eventually lead to complete blindness. That moment changed everything — not just medically, but emotionally. It forged an incredibly strong bond with my Pittsburgh family, as we began visiting every one to two weeks. I spent time in the South Hills, at the Galleria, with my cousins, and in gifted and talented classes in the suburbs that pushed me to grow. My grandparents wrapped me in love and claimed me as their favorite grandchild.
And along the way, I had the unforgettable opportunity to meet Mr. Rogers, whose kindness and message of possibility resonated deeply with me. Those experiences in Pittsburgh didn’t just support me through a diagnosis; they helped forge my resilience, optimism, and sense of purpose. Pittsburgh shaped how I see the world — quite literally without sight, but with tremendous vision.
Q. How did you come to be a classical pianist? who was your first teacher, and how did you connect with him or her?
A. One of the most formative experiences in my life — which truly shaped how I think — came from my first piano teacher, Nicholas Constantinidis. He was extraordinary. He was a Greek concert pianist who grew up in Europe in the 1950s and ’60s, and he became blind literally overnight at the age of 6. Despite that, he fell deeply in love with the piano. In Europe, he learned to read Braille music, which at the time was still very uncommon in the U.S.
I met him when I was in third grade, about 8 years old. He lived an hour away in Akron, and my parents practically begged him to teach me, as none of my teachers knew how to teach Braille music. He evaluated me and — very honestly — somewhat reluctantly agreed to take me on as a student. But once we began, everything changed. He taught me not just piano, but a whole new way of thinking.
He trained me to read Braille music with one hand while playing piano with the other — literally switching every few measures. I would read with my right hand and play with my left, then switch to reading with my left while playing with my right. When you think about something like a five-part Bach fugue — the complexity, the memorization, the layered concentration — that process of learning forced me to develop an entirely new level of multi-tasking.
At first, my relationship with my teacher was simply about piano lessons. But over time, it became so much more than that. By around fifth grade, we didn’t just talk about music anymore; we talked about life — specifically, how to navigate a world designed for people who can see. He was masterful at it. He moved through life with independence, humor and competence, and I watched and learned.
He also owned a piano sales business, so my lessons sometimes doubled as real-world training. He would pause our lesson to take phone calls from customers, and I would quietly press the soft pedal, pretend to be practicing, and listen closely to how he handled conversations and closed sales. I became completely captivated. I found myself asking questions, wanting to understand the business side, soaking in every detail. It absolutely gripped me and opened up a new curiosity about entrepreneurship.
What shaped me most, though, was his honesty. He never sugarcoated anything — unlike many of my teachers at school. If I competed and didn’t perform well, he told me directly. It wasn’t unkind; it was real. And instead of discouraging me, it motivated me. I worked harder. I improved. That honesty prepared me for the real world in a way that “polite encouragement” never could. It taught me that genuine feedback is a gift.
Later, when I was a teenager, Mr. Constantinidis guided me through college audition prep and supported me through the entire process. Because of his mentorship, I earned a full scholarship — tuition, room, board, books, everything — to attend Baldwin Wallace, his alma mater. Attending the same school he did felt like an incredible full-circle moment and a tremendous honor.
Q. I understand you had a competitive wrestling career as a young adult. How did you become interested in wrestling, and what were your advantages or disadvantages, if any, over your sighted competitors?
A. My wrestling career actually started with a bit of rebellion — right after I got kicked out of horseback-riding lessons in fifth grade. That summer, my brother and I were both taking lessons, and because I was blind, the instructor became extremely cautious with me. My brother was actually the more timid one, but he was given the aggressive horse, and I got the timid horse — and it really bothered me. It felt like I was being underestimated purely because of my blindness. After a few mishaps — and honestly, I can’t even remember whether I quit or was kicked out — I came home and told my parents, decisively, “I’m joining the wrestling team.”
I had already met the coaches and many of my friends were on the team, and the coaches immediately recognized that I had the energy and the build for it. They researched the rules and learned that the only adaptation I needed to compete and avoid an unfair advantage was simply to remain in physical contact during matches. That was it. From there, I was all in and loved wrestling.
Wrestling became an incredible outlet for me. It was the perfect counterbalance to the disciplined musical side of my life — it was intensely physical, competitive, and full of adrenaline. Most of the tournaments were in western Pennsylvania, so once again, Pittsburgh kept pulling me back. I started winning junior high school tournaments, and in 1997, I won the District 5 Middle East District in Howland, Ohio in the 171 weight class, progressing all the way to competing at the State level. It was during this time, something happened: people stopped focusing on my blindness. They saw the athlete, the competitor.
What wrestling ultimately taught me is that having a disability doesn’t mean you should just “keep up.” It means you should strive to excel. I felt a real responsibility to perform better than my sighted peers, whatever I was doing — for the sake of standards. I wanted to prove, objectively, that excellence is possible regardless of circumstance.
At that time, I was winning both wrestling tournaments and piano competitions. One moment I’d be on the mat, completely focused, competing at a high level — and then, after the tournament, I would sit down in the middle of the gym and perform a Chopin Étude.
Wrestling didn’t just make me stronger physically; it shaped my mindset. It taught me discipline, resilience, and the idea that if I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it exceptionally well.
Q. What is it like to be blind?
A. For me, being blind is simply life. I’ve never had sight, so this is completely normal to me. I often compare it to asking someone from the 1800s what it was like to live without air conditioning — they’d probably say, “I don’t know, that’s just how life was.” I do think it can be very different for someone who loses vision as an adult, but for me, it has always been a natural part of my identity.
What blindness has really done is turn me into a full-on technology enthusiast. In first grade, I was already learning to type properly — fast and accurately — and that skill became a tremendous professional advantage. My fourth-grade son has never even had a typing class! Being blind pushed me to become an early adopter before “early adopter” was even a buzzword. I leaned into tech not only because I needed it, but because I genuinely loved it.
Today, technology isn’t just helpful — it’s empowering. I’m constantly learning how to harness technology, and now even AI, to succeed in every part of life. It is an absolute game-changer for someone who is blind. Tools like AI-enabled smart glasses are extraordinary; without prompts, they can orient and guide me. That is transformative independence.
When people are lukewarm about new technology, I dive in enthusiastically because it has always helped me be faster, more efficient, and frankly, better than many of my sighted peers in processing information.
Q. You now have a successful foothold in four markets in a very niche industry. tell me about when you decided to focus on the piano business.
A. The moment I truly knew I was meant to be in the piano business happened in college. There was a big piano sale on campus — happy families, kids trying out instruments, music everywhere. I was a student, dressed well, and I slipped into the role of a potential buyer just to observe. It brought back so many memories of my childhood — traveling for competitions, visiting local piano stores, practicing wherever I could find an instrument.
What struck me was the contrast. Growing up, I had often encountered salespeople who were focused only on “wood and metal” — just moving product. They didn’t seem to care about the art, the music, or the deeply personal connection people form with an instrument. But this sale on my own campus felt completely different. It was authentic, mission-driven, and tied to education. In that moment, I realized something powerful: I was born to help make the piano industry better.
As I started exploring the field, I saw a pattern across the country. There were so many piano stores run by older men with a stereotypical “used-car-salesman” approach: overbearing, transactional, anything but inspiring. I knew there had to be a better way. I wanted to build a company grounded in genuine care, respect, and authenticity — because people who buy pianos are usually thoughtful, well-educated, and emotionally invested. They don’t want to be pressured; they want to be understood.
That solidified my own sales ethics. I understood that if we treated people well, honored the art, and approached them with real authenticity, they wouldn’t just buy a piano — they’d fall in love with the experience and often want to bring even more music into their lives.
That early campus sale didn’t just influence my career path — it set the foundation for my business philosophy. It convinced me that the piano business could be both successful and deeply human, and that’s exactly what I’ve dedicated myself to building.
Q. How did you realize your dream to develop your presence in Pittsburgh?
A. Solich Piano’s path to Pittsburgh was definitely a long one. We started the business back in 2005 in Boardman, Ohio, and very early on, we noticed something: So many of our customers were from Pittsburgh and they kept asking, “When are you opening a store in Pittsburgh?” We had been delivering hundreds of pianos into the city long before we ever had a storefront here. It took a combination of planning, timing, staffing, and building strong relationships with vendors, such as Yamaha and Bosendorfer, not to mention putting together a sustainable philanthropic program with the Pittsburgh Opera, to make it happen. We’ve actually been working with the Pittsburgh Opera, loaning our pianos and leading their annual philanthropic sale since 2009. From 2009 to 2021 — that was 15 years of persistence, determination, and belief in the Pittsburgh market.
Honestly, Pittsburgh just makes me happy. It keeps me in the zone. Growing up with my grandfather’s U.S. Steel work ethic instilled in me the value of hard work and integrity. That spirit inspires me every day, and it’s a big part of why we are committed to Pittsburgh.
Q. What advice would you give your son or young people today regarding becoming successful?
A. If you want to succeed in any public-facing or consumer-facing career, you have to excel on both the front end and the back end. It’s not enough to just be loved by your customers if you don’t have the skills and substance to back it up — and it’s not enough to be incredibly skilled if people can’t relate to you or connect with you.
You have to be both exceptional at what you do and genuinely relatable as a person. That balance builds trust, loyalty, and respect. People want to work with someone who knows their craft inside and out, but also someone who makes them feel seen and understood.
Tara is a freelance marketing consultant and event planner who started pulling tear sheets from Vogue and Town & Country at the age of 12. A Pittsburgh native and city dweller, she is proud to see the downtown area growing.
