Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Miller, Easton, and Emerson, the record managers of the 1890's

Walter H. Miller
Victor Emerson
Edward Easton

These three odd men ran two of the biggest record companies of the 1890's, Edison and Columbia. The first chap ran Edison, and the lower two ran Columbia. All three of them had different views on the ways their companies should have operated, from the most conservative to the liberal, their views really shaped all the records that we record nerds hear to-day.

Starting with Walter Miller. Miller was a man who was very much like old man Edison himself, and that must have been why he was selected as the manager of the recording department. It is not exactly known when Miller came into management, but he was there from the very beginning, as early as 1888, as an engineer and session supervisor. Not long after that, Miller was promoted to manager of the recording department, where he would remain until the end of Edison's triumph in the 1920's. Miller was a reasonably conservative manager, and wanted everything to be written down and orderly, so any piece of information could be found at ease. From the very complete surviving records of all their studio activity, it would seem that Miller had his wish granted inevitably. Miller didn't allow for any drugs or alcohol in his studio. If anything was found, he would probably send the person out who had the stuff, and maybe if he was hot, would throw the bottle or stomp out the evidence. Miller and Edison were close in ties, and they oftentimes saw each other to have a laugh or share a good meal. Edison himself even made some records with less-than-appropriate scenarios here and there, such as this one in the first sound file on the page. Edison begins with "Say, Wal'er Miller..."(yes, he barely pronounced the "t" in Walter). This would indicate a substantial friendship between Miller and Edison, so Miller probably intended to go with the shared beliefs and ideals that he and Edison both had, which were, coincidentally, conservative in many ways. They were efficient though, and you can't go wrong with the very complete ledgers. 

Now onto Edward Easton. He was of quite contrast to Walter Miller and Edison, as Easton was the judgemental and forward-thinking one of the recording managers. Easton was always a hard-worker, and very straightforward man, who saw his employees at Columbia as employees, not servants(as that's how Victor Emerson saw it..). He probably examined each new person up for hire on their staff, once they got the "go" from Emerson, they had to get through Easton next. That must have really been where the trouble was. If they could get through Easton, they were certainly going to become a "Regular" there. He must have examined the "specimens"(people up for hire that is) precisely, and probably dug through many of their paper trails for anything disloyal, and for general knowledge of what they did before they decided to work there. He believed in a very open way of recording, with little rules and regulations in the actual studio, and more of those rules in the selling and distributing of the records.  As long as work was getting done every day and evening, the company would go on, as the people he examined were all selected tediously by Easton. He didn't manage the day-to-day workings of the studios, but he came in occasionally to watch over the workings and check in with Emerson. Easton ran the entire thing and got the most profits from all of Columbia's investments and stockholders. This is why Easton was the one who hosted those big parties at the most expensive hotels in New York in 1898 and 1899. Easton remained a shrewd worker and powerful president of Columbia to the year that he died, even after being saved from a terrible attempted suicide in 1908.

Now onto Easton's lower-on-the-totem-pole manager "Vic" Emerson. Every one's favourite manager(sarcastically...). Emerson was a little more bitter and demanding of the staff than Easton, who was not nearly as present in the actual studio activity. Emerson had quite an agenda, always. He demanded the unfathomable amount of takes the artists had to endure every day of each song, and he was the one who worked the house musicians until they wanted to hang themselves. Emerson was an accommodating manager though, as he was the one who allowed all the drugs and drinking in the studio, which is a big plus on the artists' part. Emerson was the one who made all the studio decisions and managed personnel on the recording staff. They all hated Emerson. And from some of the stories I have heard passed down for generations, it' clear that whenever Emerson told an artist what to do, the artist HAD to do what he said, or ELSE. I don't really know what it was he could have done, but I'm assuming the consequences were not to be taken easily. He must have loved his house musicians, and just wanted to hear them thousands of times every time he heard them play a good song. As according to what Dan Quinn said quoting Emerson:
"I wish it were possible for you to sing that song a thousand times."

Yep, that one quote along pretty much sums up all of what Emerson valued in his staff members. He treated them like indentured servants to his own demands, not as the renowned performers they all were. His demands were always unreasonable, and it greatly angered the staff members. He just enjoyed the music, not feeling any sort of empathy for the artists who "served" him every day of the week. Emerson did prove Columbia to be a wild company of lovable eccentrics that the exhibition crowds adored, which meant for more profits for himself and Emerson. Just like the over worked artists, Emerson was one who loved life just as much as one like Len Spencer or Fred Hylands, as this is why Columbia was such a wild place to work in the late-1890's. If only Edison could run his company that way...


I hope you enjoyed this! 

Monday, October 26, 2015

George Schweinfest and Columbia's ledgers burned to bits

(from Tinfoil.com)
It's George Schweinfest! Now the reason I want to start with him this evening is because I had just noticed this weekend that Mr. Schweinfest lived an awfully long time, as compared to some of his colleagues in the early recording business. This fact is very interesting to think about, because Jim Walsh never really did an article corresponding with Mr. Schweinfest, and this frustrates me greatly. Why? because Schweinfest lived until 1949. The few record researchers like Walsh could have easily gotten to him! Schweinfest would have been a wonderful source of information for sure, as he was not only that famous piccolo man, he was also the pianist at Columbia' phonograph company the years between Fred Gaisberg and Fred Hylands. So there's no doubt that Schweinfest would have quite a variety of stories. Schweinfest was an unusual band member of the 1890's recording business, as he played five or six different instruments, which was uncommon as far as the house musicians go from that time. He was very valuable in that sense, as he was used for all the instruments he played. I have seen records of him playing piano, Flute, clarinet, violin, and of course piccolo. Before he was a recording star(starting in 1890), he worked in several east coast German bands, playing his various flute instruments, and maybe leading sometimes. Anyhow, I just looked through what names were listed in the Jim Walsh Collection on the Library of Congress' website, and I did not see Schweinfest listed anywhere, so that pretty much proves it. Walsh didn't get to interview or correspond with one of the best potential sources of information on the early recording business. That says quite a lot about Walsh, that he didn't really care too much about the musicians behind all those singers that he praised so highly. It's very unfortunate that he never really got an interest in the recorded accompanists. This lack of interest has kept a lot of us collectors wondering about the over-worked accompanists. This is why record collectors get into battles over who the pianist is on certain records, as I have seen this happen before. This unknown nature of accompanists leads me into my next part of this post.

The next thing I would like to speak of is the fact that all the records of recording dates and general personnel of the Columbia company have vanished. Why is this so? Not anyone I know has any idea. It is certainly something many record nerds have pondered on before. What happened to all of the Columbia catalogs, cashbooks, ledgers, and legal papers? No one knows. The only written records we all have access to are from 1919 onward, not anything before that, which is a terrible disappointment to all the early recording collectors. It is something we have all cried about before, but we have to deal with the fact that they're all gone. But what happened to them? Were they recycled into other things? Burned to bits at a specific destroy date? Lost in a studio fire? Or are there still some out there now? It's a fascinating mystery really, as most of the Edison ledgers survive, or at least a good amount of them. All of the Victor ledgers survive, this is why we have exact recording dates everywhere with Victors and Berliners. This will never be so with Columbia's. All the dates listed on Columbia discographies are usually best guesses bu record numbers, but then other takes with the same number can always be there to confuse. This is why many Columbia's have dates listed like these:
c.1896-1899
c.1898-1900
1901-1904
1904-1909
Those are dates that one can usually find with many Columbia cylinders, though, if a nerd knows the dates in which Columbia spread outward to other states and countries, one can understand a more accurate way of dating these cylinders. I have had the theory though that the Columbia staff hadn't the best record-keeping in its time, as the Edison ledgers are very complete, and the Berliner and Victor ledgers are among the best that exist from that time. The Columbia ledgers were either terrible, or very efficient and complete. It is certainly the great mystery. Were they burned? Or scattered everywhere? Who knows. Some examples of these unsure dates are here:
one from late-1897 or early 1898:
I am in debate with my mind about the date on this one, as it could easily have been recorded in December 1897(which would be the month if it's 1897) or within the first three months of 1898. It's a Fred Hylands led Columbia orchestra with Len Spencer singing a chorus, so it's more likely to be very early 1898. One more thing to note about the song on this cylinder is that this tune was actually the first published song with Rag-Time accompaniment, by the team of Williams and Walker, seen here:
Williams and Walker, 1897.

This next one is by Billy Golden from what most people say 1897, but is actually more likely to be mid-1898:
(the first sound file listed on the page that is)
Most people are misled to think that this cylinder is from 1897 because of the announcement, which makes sense, but the piano accompaniment would not line up with the 1897 date at all. That is obviously the piano accompaniment of an anxious Fred Hylands, not of George Schweinfest. 
this next one is by Vess Ossman, and all the discographies I have seen have differing opinions on the recording date of this one. One says 1897, another says 1899, and another says 1898, all with "accompaniment by: Unknown"
Here is that cylinder:
I say 1898. Again, because of the piano accompaniment, which from quite a few hard-to-hear characteristics, it is certainly Fred Hylands. It certainly wouldn't be the long-assumed Frank P. Banta, as it's not an Edison cylinder. 
This next one is also by Ossman, but it's one of those later Columbia's where the date is almost impossible to trace because of it holding an older record number:
I don't care what anyone says, I hear this as it's 1903. They say "1904 to 1909" as the date, but it's certainly 1903, by its sound and according to when many remakes of older Columbia's were done. These sound much like this one here, by the piccolo player mentioned earlier in this post(George Schweinfest):
I am almost 100% sure that this "Skirt Dance" by Schweinfest and Hylands is from 1903, much like tha last Ossman record I shared. 

Anyhow, if anyone knows anything about the fate of the early ledgers of Columbia, please comment on this post and tell me! It would help many collectors so greatly! I really want to know if they were burned or not. 

I hope you enjoyed this! Getting ready for the West Coast Ragtime festival has really kept me busy! 




Thursday, October 22, 2015

Heatin' up Victor's piano and the genius of Silas Leachman

Last evening, I went through a multitude of Victors from 1900 to 1904, seeing if I could tell who the pianist was on certain recording dates. I can for some reason really tell the difference now. I have easily been able to spot Banta from Hylands. When digging through those relatively few records by Silas Leachman:
(from Archeophone's blog, thanks for putting up this fantastic photograph you guys!)

One might be able to tell that the piano accompaniment on many of them is exceptional and reasonably different from some of the usual records you would hear from pre-1905 Victor's. This is because the pianist is Fred Hylands on many of them. I tried to explain this to a friend of mine(who is a piano player), that Hylands did indeed have to make trips off to the Victor studio that was in Philadelphia reasonably often, and that it wouldn't be surprising that he went back to Columbia in the early evening for a few sessions after a few hours at Victor, or vice versa. Sometimes Fred would have to board somewhere near the Victor studio in Philly for a few recording days in a row at Victor, which as looking into Leachman's records, were usually recorded in bunches.  A great example of this are the days of December 3 to the 7 of 1901. 
Here is a record from each one of these days:



The ones from December 7 are not digitized, but I have heard Leachman's "My Maid of Hindoostan" from that date. It's a record that should not have been issued, as it's a pretty substantial "mess" of a record. The only problem with the record is that Leachman genuinely forgets the lyrics, and improvises on some made-up-on-the-spot words to the song. I do not recall how it all fits together, but I do know that Hylands was pretty good behind him and that Leachman completely mixes up the lyrics. It was one of those few records I have heard that really weren't supposed to be issued, but were anyway. As I try my hardest to recollect the sequence of the record, and how it sounded, I can just see the look on Hylands' face when Leachman started to go off on his improvised section. They must have run through it at least once before they did the take, but when they actually did it, Leachman probably was at a loss for words to continue on in the song. Leachman was usually able to make up words on the spot, without any real thought, even if they didn't rhyme. He can be heard here in the second verse of this record doing this:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002503/Pre-matrix_B-3360-Turkey_in_de_straw

Leachman was one of the rarest cases of perfect pitch. He was one of the best I have ever heard of in my studies of these recording stars(better than Frank P. Banta!). It would seem that he was able to listen to two different versions of the same song(on cylinders!) and play back each of them, imitating the versions with their small distinctions, both the accompaniment and the singing as well. 

Leachman and Hylands was probably the most powerful and crazily intelligent duo that any of the artists at Victor ever had, in all its history. The sheer power and musical intellect of these two could probably have been felt in the breath of the air of the Victor studio when they came together. It's two musical powerhouses together, one who had the might on the piano, and the other who had the best of all the earliest recording artists in one singer. Leachman imitated EVERYONE. No matter who is mentioned, Leachman heard them and imitated them somehow. He heard Len Spencer, Arthur Collins, Billy Golden, Fred Hylands, J. W. Myers, George Gaskin, Steve Porter, Edward M. Favor, Russell Hunting, and who knows who else. Leachman probably got a kick out of Len Spencer and Billy Golden, and this is why he imitated them quite often, recording exactly the same songs that they did, with the lyrics they chose, and small details that distinguished their versions. He must have been considerd a real "Freak" in the Chicago area in the 1890's for being able to do this. This is where I am sure that Leachman ran into those popular Chicago eccentrics like Fred Hylands and W. H. Krell:
Krell, in 1895.
Krell was just a local bandleader in Chicago, but he was a very well-known one in that area. I know for a fact that Leachman and Krell met. Krell's song from 1893 called "In Memory of Our Carter", says that the co-writer and introducer of the song was Silas Leachman. Interestingly enough, Leachman later recorded this very song on a Victor in 1903, but it was never issued for some reason. Hylands wasn't really as well-known as Krell, but I am almost 100% sure that Leachman would have run into Hylands at some point between 1893 and 1895, as that was the time that Hylands lived there, and when Leachman was making records, and a name for himself as a local musical "freak". Hylands must have accompanied him at some of the few concerts Leachman did in the Chicago area as well, as Hylands was a reasonable pick for an accompanist at that time. He wasn't really doing too much, so it would seem very possible that Hylands would have gotten picked out of the crowd of musicians by Leachman to be his pianist. 
 There was no other recording star like Leachman, not even someone with as good an ear like Hylands could play and sing to the awesome ability that Leachman could. It's extraordinary really, and hard to fathom, even to me being an ear-player. He could imitate any singer he heard, and could pronounce every syllable like the singer he heard. Since he had an extraordinary vocal range(from high tenor to low baritone)so he had all the means for mimicking any singer he heard. Leachman probably showed Hylands and Krell's band(at different times of course!) what he did, and how he did it. They all must have watched in awe, and silence, at the musical miracle that occurred before their eyes. Hylands must have been fascinated first with the phonograph upon first hearing about Leachman's temendously rare and extraordinary talent. 
It's a damn shame that Leachman left all of these amazing talent behind him and made the heaving effort to never speak of it again after he ended his time in the business. People still spoke of it here and there, and Hylands probably remembered Leachman until the day he died, as I'm sure one meeting with Leachman could be one to remember for one's entire life. 


I hope you enjoyed this! Sorry it's been a few days, I've been getting ready for the West Coast Ragtime Festival.

Sunday, October 18, 2015

Issler's orchestra and Hylands' Columbia orchestra

Edward Issler(1856-1942)(from Tinfoil.com)
and his parlor orchestra soloists(also from Tinfoil.com)
I recognize all three of those boys, Clarinetist William Tuson, Cornetist David Dana, and multi-instrumentalist George Schweinfest.
Edward Issler was the first house pianist at any record company, starting in 1889 at Edison, and remained there until about 1895. He was also the first pianist to alternate accompaniment with Frank Banta and Fred Gaisberg. Issler was the first studio pianist of many, and he had a very unique approach to his choices of the music they recorded in his band. His orchestra always consisted of the people pictured above, but oftentimes with an extra two brass players and a sound effects man(who was young Len Spencer). You can hear them here in 1894 with Len Spencer playing some hand-held bells, and announcing for them:
Len Spencer was known in the early phonograph business9other than being a great "coon song" singer) as the announcer and sound effects man for Issler's orchestra, and from that cylinder above, it is evident. Spencer is not on all of these records, but he was on most of them. 
Here is another one from 1894, not with Spencer :
Spencer probably was doing the bells again(if you could hear them), which were mostly overpowered by the piano. This record is a fantastic example of pre-Ragtime as some would say, I would think it's not really a great example of this, I have heard better examples. Any recording of "The Virginia Skeddaddle" is a great example of what pre-Ragtime would have sounded like. Here are two examples of "The Virginia Skedaddle":
The one by Issler's orchestra is very quick and up tempo, and Len Spencer is really loving it! However, I do like the second one better. It's slower, more controlled(even though Issler's orchestra was very skilled and "tight" so to speak), and it has a better tempo for a pre-Ragtime piece, that is mostly Hylands' fault. 
Most of Issler's musicians went to work in the Columbia orchestra after Issler's term as a house pianist was over, which is slightly ironic. As when Tom Clark formed the Columbia orchestra, the Spencer brothers and George Schweinfest were still back at the U. S. Phonograph company, recording regularly in Issler's orchestra. It took a little convincing and personnel changes to recruit the boys under Issler. It may have been Issler actually on the earliest Columbia orchestra records, now that I think of it. That's not very likely though. The piano job was quickly given to you know who(Fred Hylands). The Columbia orchestra is essentially the second installment of Issler's orchestra, just without Issler himself and more people. Tom Clark was their leader, but he didn't play the piano. The Columbia orchestra looked something like this back in 1898:
That was not everyone in their band, but it is most of the important ones in the group(including Hylands at the piano!). Later, after 1901 that is, they would have at least five or six more people come in regularly to make their records. When Hylands brought Rag-Time to the Columbia orchestra, the Edison house band had some real competition for their band pianist Frank P. Banta. From this competition, this is where we get the great examples of Rag-Time from 1899 to 1904 from both of these orchestras. Here is the Edison house Band playing "Jovial Joe"(a slow drag cakewalk).
That is a wonderful example of orchestral Rag-Time, even if this is a little bit after Banta's death. Here is the Peerless Orchestra's version of "HotFoot Sue"(cakewalk) from 1899. There's Banta! I hear him on the piano on that one. 
Here is Fred Stone's "Ma Rag Time Baby" by the Peerless orchestra, 1899. Not only do you get Banta on the piano here, you also get Arthur Collins doing just what the Spencer's did at Columbia. You can tell by the arrangement(and a few times where the piano sticks out), that it is indeed a Banta arrangement. 
Now onto some Columbia recorded Rag-Time. Here's Harry Kelly's "Peaceful Henry" by Hylands and the Columbia orchestra(the first record listed on the page). When Hylands saw "Slow Drag", he did what was intended, he played it slow, which it is reasonably so here. Here is J. B. Lampe's "Dixie Girl" by Hylands and the Columbia orchestra(recorded on the same day as the last one!). Here is "The Honeysuckle and the Bee" by the Climax(Columbia)orchestra from 1901. Hylands was always loud on every Columbia orchestra record you will find. The odd thing about the one just above, is that Hylands' arrangement(which it most certainly is...) involves a sort of tango-ish rhythm that is very unique to this arrangement. I have never heard anyone play this song like Hylands does here. It's queer, but very "groovy" nonetheless. This next one is "Smokey Mokes" by Hylands and the Columbia orchestra(kind of...) skip to 57:50 for the record I mean. That record is a mess, and it fell apart at the beginning of the cylinder, but you can hear Hylands' will on the piano, even if it's not really in sync with the rest of the band very well.  Since it's that way, you can really tell it's Hylands who counted them off! No matter how much of a mess it is! 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Saturday, October 17, 2015

Burt Green, Fred Hylands, and Irene Franklin

Hey look! It's Burt Green! 

Yes indeed. Burt Green, the husband of Irene Franklin and one of Fred Hylands' musical thieves. Burt Green was not considered one of the the best accompanists in vaudeville, unlike Fred Hylands and Seymour Furth, and it's pretty evident by how he plays from the few records he's the pianist on. He wasn't the best accompanist in the world, but he must have been a riot of a guy, and he and Fred Hylands must have been unstoppable as publishers. 

Now what I just said about Burt being one of Hylands' musical thieves is referring to his piano style. I just listened to the two cylinders from 1912 and 1913 of Burt and his wife Irene Franklin:
There she is around 1910. Gorgeous ain't she? 
Well, on the few records that Burt made with Irene, with him accompanying her, he plays some things that sound an awful lot like this familiar chap:
Hm! Fred Hylands. Now I'm not really saying that Green stole from Hylands, I'm saying that he heard and practically lived with the man for a year at his publishing firm back in 1899. From doing this, he got an "overdose" of  Hylands' shenanigans to imitate his playing almost exactly. Green was a great imitator, as he was known for being one of the the first to play and dance Rag-Time, under the intention of mocking Ben Harney's style to perfection as it was once said. Here is that one cylinder that I really mean:
Really take a listen! Franklin's singing is really fantastic no doubt, but listen closely to Green's accompaniment. Hmm...where have I heard a trill like that at the very beginning? 
Take these two cylinders as examples:
Listen for the trill at the "song and Dance" part at the end on this one:
There are countless examples of Hylands playing like this. The fact that Burt Green really did play like Hylands, struck me first this evening when listening to that cylinder by Green and Franklin above. So with Green's great mimicry, he was easily keen on using this gift in his piano styling. He first imitated Harney and Mike Bernard, then later Fred Hylands. 
He was probably anxious to learn from Hylands when he began the publishing firm with him in 1899, and when they came in together after recording days, or on days off, they must have exchanged all sort of ideas. Burt must have watched Hylands play in the closest of detail. He must have watched how he played everything that was distinct to his style, how he used the pedals, and what he did with his left hand. Hylands may or may not have been aware of Green's close examining, or he was, and was being all showy for him. The 24 year old Green must have been cross examining Hylands' mastery in amazement and took in everything he heard. These times of creation must have been fascinating. Burt Green was the sponge absorbing all the music he heard, and Hylands was the genius with the love for Rag-Time in his blood.
Just for another comparison, here is the other cylinder by Green and Franklin from 1912:
He still sounds like Hylands. After 14 years, he still perpetuated that queer style of his old friend, who by the way, was still alive when this was recorded. It may have been issued the year that Hylands died, but it was recorded the year before that. I even hear in Green's accompaniments the rare characteristic of the fifths in the octaves that Hylands used quite often on his records. You can faintly hear it twice on the cylinder above. The ending of Green's accompaniment is also a mess, which I'm pretty sure was not intended. It just falls apart in a single line. 
The only thing that Green could never steal from Hylands was his feel and sense of rhythm. He could never get it right, in fact, no one could. His was perfect in many ways, and his time was far better than any of the usual accompanists heard on records, he had an even better sense of time than Frank P. Banta, and C. H. H. Booth. Banta had already a fantastic sense of time, but when you put Hylands in the picture, that changes it entirely. 
You can hear the wonderful stylings of Banta on these two cylinders here, with wonderful rhythmic choices:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder2649
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=groIZgk0EJU(music starts at 3:30!)
These may be near perfect sounding examples of Rag-Time on cylinders, with exceptional tempo choices by Banta, but compare it with Hylands:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8436

https://ia700407.us.archive.org/17/items/ArthurCollins_part1/ArthurCollins-BillBaileyWontYouPleaseComeHomeCoonSong.mp3(Hylands' time on this one is a little shaky, only because he must be a little but tipsy, but it's still one of the best examples recorded Rag-Time from the Rag-Time era itself.)
https://ia700407.us.archive.org/17/items/ArthurCollins_part1/ArthurCollins-EveryDarkyHadaRaglanOnCoonSong.mp3
Banta had great rhythm, but his choices of tempo were not always perfect, and his time coordinating with the right hand syncopation didn't always work either. Hylands had mastered this style and skill by 1896, and perfected it by 1898. Banta was a natural pianist, just like Hylands, but like Burt Green, he had to catch on and really think about how to play this "Ragged" music. Burt Green was only able to keep Hylands' styling alive until 1921, which was only 8 years after Hylands died. That's really unfortunate to think about, and there are less than 20 pianists, at least, in the entire world to-day who have ever acknowledged Hylands' playing and have ever tried to imitate his style, just like Burt Green did. 


I hope you enjoyed this! 







Friday, October 16, 2015

Connecting opposing things, and odd accompaniments

The great Scott Joplin
and fat Freddy Hylands.

What am I planning on connecting with these two completely different composers? Well, I just made an interesting connection this evening between Hylands' playing and Joplin's composing mastery. It's a small connection, that I'm not entirely sure what it means, but it's odd. 
We all know of Mr. Scott Joplin, and his masterful pieces from "Maple Leaf Rag" to "Solace", but the one piece of his I would like to point at is his beautiful work "A Real Slow Drag" from his 1911 opera Treemonisha, which is a fascinating work of Rag-Time history. "A Real Slow Drag" is the main part of the overture in the opera, and reoccurs throughout the overture, and the finale as well. Here's the connection, the link to a gorgeous piano roll is on this link here. The one characteristic about this piece I would like to point out us that left hand pattern at the beginning minor section and the second section which is in F. I realized that these same patterns are one I have heard on records many years before this was written. It was from 1898, 1899 and 1900 that I heard Fred Hylands play these patterns in his improvised accompaniments. The record labels I heard these on vary however, one was on a Zon-O-phone, a Columbia, and another on the obscure American Talking machine label of 1899. Here is the Zon-O-phone from 1900:
It's very hard to notice, but just after each of the choruses, you can kind of hear it. It's the same left hand pattern! Played 11 years before Joplin wrote the overture for Treemonisha. Another thing to note about this record, is that on the second attempt at that odd ragged left hand pattern, Hylands speeds up the tempo, only in trying to get it again. 
I'm sure that Hylands probably wouldn't approve of anyone comparing him to Joplin, but it's just an interesting thing to note. I do not know if that means Joplin ever heard Hylands(though he may have, as Hylands was a very skilled and popular accompanist in the time that Joplin had moved to New York). I do not know really how to connect the two things, but where this style of Rag-Time came from, I would like to know. I do not know if it came from Hylands directly, but it sounds slightly tango-ish, or West Indian in a way. I have heard Hylands play it in a variety of ways, from slow drag to quick but Ragged. Just a thought.

Now onto a few odd Hylands accompaniments. I know I use his accompaniment quite a lot on this blog, and I exhaust certain ones sometimes, but this evening I have some ones I don't think I've used. Starting with this odd one with Pete LaMaire, who I would have a picture of here, but have never seen one yet. Yes, it's labeled as George Watson on the video, but that is not who is singing here. Here you go with Pete LaMaire's "Sleep Baby, Sleep", from 1902.
That was weird.
 I don't really know what was happening in the accompaniment. Especially under the yodelling. I have listened to this record many a time since I found it, and I still don't know what's going on in the accompaniment during the yodelling. Am very unsure about what Hylands is actually doing to create that somewhat quick and slightly syncopated pattern, but I'm guessing by the way that is sounds, that it involves both his hands, not just the left hand. It sounds almost like he's trying to imitate the xylophone in a way, whether that was his intention or not, that's really what it sounds like. It would be similar to if Hylands tried to play the exact melody line of the xylophone on this cylinder here, from 1898.(he's on piano here as well)
This next one is by a singer I don't showcase too often on this blog. 
George J. Gaskin.
Now, I'm not really a big fan of Gaskin,  but his significance in the early recording business overtakes my opinions of his singing style. Here is his and Hylands' "Gwine Back to Arkansaw", from 1898. Hmm...stoptime. Interesting Mr. Hylands. It's some odd stoptime as well. It's not really the easiest to follow along with, as I have tried to play along with this one, and it's a little bit weird. Gaskin didn't normally sing "Coon Songs", and that's what this one just happens to be. They even said that Gaskin singing a coon song was something dreaded by all the people on the staff, so they really must have hated it. There weren't too many things about the singers' choices of songs that were complained about, but this was one exception. They were even alright with Hylands' loud, and somewhat obnoxious voice! It's an interesting cylinder nonetheless, and the piano accompaniment is even more so, with Ragged patterns, and a wirey piano, just like it ought've sounded at Columbia in 1898. 

This last one is one I may have showcased here before, but it's a very odd and amazing example of Hylands' mastery , and it's with Joe Belmont, the human bird:
Here you go with Hylands and Belmont's "The Bobolink" from 1903.
A truly amazing piece of Hylands mastery. He plays it to perfection and it sounds even better in that room that it was recorded in. There's really not much to say here, other than just listening to it to hear how extraordinary it is. When I hear it, I tune out the whistling completely and can hear every single note that is hit on that piano, and how it's hit. This is one of the few records of Hylands where the main performer can be tuned out by the listener and the piano can be heard exclusively. This is usually the case with Belmont's records, as his whistling didn't blend at all with the piano. It makes listening very interesting for the anxiously listening Rag-Time pianist. 


I hope you enjoyed this! 



Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Artie Hall and similar "artie" characters

To-day at school, I wore all black to mourn the death date of Freddy Hylands, as on this date, it was 102 years ago, out somewhere near Liverpool, England. 

Now to get into the real focus of this post. 
This lovely lady:
Ah, yes, Artie Hall. That lady that I have always wanted to actually hear sing. She was on quite a multitude of sheet music covers in the late-1890's and the early 1900's. She was said to have been a wonderful minstrel singer with a big voice, though she was a small figure. She was well-known as a Rag-Time singer in the late-1890's, as early as 1896 in fact. Coming from Georgia, she just seemed like the perfect pick for the boys who ran vaudeville stages all over. She was substantially young for a singer of her magnitude, even if most(if not all) sources you look through say she was born in c.1881. I am against that guess. I think more likely the late-1870's is a better guess for her birthdate. Since she was from Georgia, that fact already makes it harder to figure out an exact date, which this can be compared with Roger Harding(born c.1857) and Fred Hylands(c. early-1872?).
Whenever her exact birthdate was(c.1878 is my guess), she got into vaudeville before she turned 20, and became associated with the big Rag-Time song writers and performers. She must have had a "perfect" voice for singing Rag-Time songs, whatever it really sounded like(probably like a lower-pitched May Irwin is my guess). You can hear May Irwin in 1907 here for an idea of what Hall might had sounded like:
I am a bitter critic when it comes to female singers from this time period of early recording. But I do like May Irwin. I don't know what it is about her singing, I just find it genuinely funny and not too sharp and high pitched. Artie Hall however, must have had an even better voice for "Coon Songs", as she came from Georgia, and must have had the dialect already embedded in her voice and speech. She is one of the few female minstrels I have seen in blackface though, and it's very interesting to see her in her whole spiel.
Ooh! That's really something! 
(from a cover of sheet music)

It's not common to find a pictures of women in the minstrel business actually in blackface, you only hear about it usually, and never see it. I'm just waiting to see Len Spencer in blackface!(which I might be able to sometime!)
Many sources say that Artie Hall was killed in the collapsing of the Orphuem theater in San Francisco from the great Quake of 1906, but that was a lie. They even reported this everywhere, thinking that she was killed on that morning when the quake struck, with the whole thing crumbling above her. She was right back to performing after that however. That first picture I used of her on this post is from at least 1908, two years after she supposedly was killed. 

There's also this picture, which is also from 1908, and just by the look of her clothes, that would be the exact date of it. So why did the reporters spread this nonsense? It's obviously not true, and she must have found that a real kick. After 1908, I haven't the least idea of what happened to her, but I would really like to know! I would assume that she stayed in the Rag-Time business for as long as it remained popular(until 1918), and that she probably still did her specialty blackface performances after '06 also. She didn't make any records, as far as I know. Which in some ways must have been a loss, as she probably would have sounded better on record than May Irwin or Minnie Emmett. If anyone has any more information on this fascinating and mysterious Ragged singer, please comment here! 

The next lady I would like to speak of, I haven't a photograph of, but I certainly would like to see one. It's Etta Hylands. Now, she and he brother Fred were pretty close until Fred croaked in 1913, more so than I could have thought. I long thought that he and Etta split up and rarely ever saw each other again after she married at 18 in 1893. That was not really true however. It seemed that after two marriages by 1900, and two children, Etta was starting to go around again like Fred in the vaudeville houses. She reared her kids to be like her and Fred, musically intellectual, and very competent on the stage. Etta may have had just the same amount on skill on the ivories as her almost crazy brother, but she would never have been employed as a studio musician in that time, that was just never done, for sexist reasons that we all know of as history nerds. Etta may very well have appeared like her brother: tall, redheaded, slightly heavy-set(heh, though Fred was more than just "heavy-set") and had long hands. That would have been something certainly subjected to ridicule in that time for her, as a young lady with several children, and a history of several divorces. She seemed to have performed just as much as Freddy was, as according to several editions of Variety, she even had her own stage partners, where they would do all sorts of singing, dancing, and oddly set up sketches. I even read one that described her being in full male attire! WHEW! That must have been a shocker! That just proves to me more that Fred must have done these sorts of wild things as well, just very rarely with Etta. She must have been just as crazy as Fred was to do what she did. Minus the fact that her personal life was much more like a performer's to be expected. Unlike her brother's, that only involved a single lady for 18 years. Etta Hylands must have been a fascinating lady, with a strong personality, and non-pareiled talent. 
I still have yet to learn more about Fred's sister, and I'm sure there's more to come. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 


Tuesday, October 13, 2015

200th post- "Kingpin" Hylands and the boys in the business

Yesterday evening, I was digging once again through the many issues of Variety that are digitized online. Among these findings are many new things about Fred and Etta Hylands. I would seem from all of the things that I read last evening, that Etta Hylands was quite a talented accompanist, just like Fred, but not particularly in the Ragged aspect of the popular music of the time. It would also seem that Fred Hylands was one of the most valuable accompanists of the stage business in the late-1890's. From this little quote here:
That's saying something! Hylands seemed to be more valuable than I really ever thought before I did my digging yesterday. And it's odd, the man who spoke of this said this when Hylands worked at Columbia, and that might have been what he was referring to. It's hard to know, but that notion is very possible. As I have said on previous posts, Hylands was known later as a house pianist at Columbia, in some ways, he may have been more famous in this field than Frank P. Banta:

 Argue this as much as you want, but I have come to the conclusion that Hylands was actually more well-known as a studio pianist than Frank P. Banta. Yes, I know that Banta's "Ragged William" from 1899:
 has this little thing right under Banta's name:
"The celebrated pianist of phonograph fame"

Yes, that may be tangible evidence of Banta's renown in the same business as Hylands', but that doesn't mean that Hylands wasn't known for this as well. And though, in the long run, Banta was(and is!) more recognized as a studio pianist, only because of his famous Jazz pianist son Frank Edgar. Hylands hadn't any descendants to carry on his amazing talent, and his wife vanished from the public eye not long after he died, and she was only recognized here and there afterward as "Fred Hylands' widow". So sometimes its both surprising and not surprising that Hylands has gone widely forgotten in the field of early record collecting.
Other than the supposed "phonograph fame" Hylands was said to have been a clever comedian. I'm not sure what his sense of humor was like, but would really like to know about it. His musicals were always said to have been funny, and were approved of by all who attended, even if he was oftentimes something comical to look at. The reviewers of his shows most often enjoyed his humor and few scenes where he actually became a part of the action. He wasn't always directly involved in the plot of his shows, as he was usually in the pit getting all broken up from the directing and conducting(as well as piano playing of course!). He did do lots of Vaudeville from 1908 to 1912 however, as he can be seen here in this little section from Variety:
They didn't specify if he was in blackface, but I would presume he was. The fact that he is mentioned here really caught my eye quick. "The Academy Musical Director"? What in the world does that mean? Hmm... Never heard anything like that about him before. This little thing can be interpreted in several ways, it could mean that he was very well educated in musical directing, a very good one, or he seemed to be setting an example for other directors by unintentionally teaching them. I really don't know. I have heard many titles attached to his name, most of which I understand, but this one I do not at all know the connotation of this queer choice of diction. 
Here are a few  of these titles:

"Fred Hylands, the popular heavyweight piano artist-" The Phonoscope, July, 1898
"The majestic Fred Hylands-" from an Indiana newspaper dated March, 1907

"Freddy" Hylands- from that one thing in The Phonoscope from their September 1898 issue

Other than these titles, I'm sure there are things like "The Indiana Wonder", or some things else related to his height, red hair, and comically wide figure. I just haven't found them yet, I have only heard about them from other collectors here and there. Like the whole "Walrus" story. Ha! I really love that one so much. I think it must have been from around when this photograph was taken:
I don't know why, but I can kind of see that story being told around the time this picture of him was taken, which was in 1909. So funny. 
He must have been a favourite among the vaudeville singers, as that thing a little above in this post represents. I have the feeling that his sense of humor must have been slightly like Len Spencer's, as that was probably one of the many ways that they got along so well. Spencer's sense of humor was genuinely funny, and slightly crass. That sounds about right. I have heard Hylands' voice before, and I am still trying to piece together his voice with his piano mastery, and his uncommonly heard singing. You can hear Hylands exchange dialogue with Harry Spencer on this cylinder here from 1898:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/mp3s/11000/11735/cusb-cyl11735d.mp3
I still cannot understand Hylands' words at the beginning. But it's sure the voice of the organ player, which is Columbia's heavyweight pianist Fred Hylands. He's funny on this one cylinder, even if he's hard to understand.


I hope you enjoyed this! 

Monday, October 12, 2015

Some Tales and Yarns of the old studios

As a collector and early recording nerd, I have been told many theories and tales about these early recording stars. Some are true, and some are unconfirmed. As expected from performer types, many ideas and yarns were "spoken a little too highly"(quoting Burt Shepard!). I oftentimes question some of the things that certain artists said when they were ever asked about their days in the recording studio. Just like any stories, some sound more realistic than others. This is why the book They All Played Ragtime is now being looked back on for its legitimacy on historical content. It is a wonderful and fascinating book, which gave unique perspectives on all the early Rag-Time and on the most popular stars of the era. The truths behind some of the tales are being considered by the most esoteric of Rag-Time researchers now. The Rag-Time stories are more varied and diverse than the studio stories, and that can be expected, as the Rag-Time stories are more like stage tragedies. The studio stories are a mix of comedic tales, and legal troubles. 
Here are a few stories of both categories:
-Edward Easton, founder of Columbia, was in so deep of a depression that he stepped on some railroad tracks to attempt suicide. This was back in 1908, and luckily, a man close by caught him by the collar just in time before the train whacked him. 
-Fred Hylands' sister Etta had several children(from several marriages!), and created a vaudeville act with her kids in the 1900's and the early teen's. She played piano, while her girls sang popular songs. Etta was also an overall Vaudevillian like Fred, but she wasn't as funny, said the critics! Etta was even contracted for the White Rats actor's union in 1911(ha! Under Fred's obliging of course!). 
-Ada Jones remembered one specific thing about Len Spencer, other than having to stand on a box next to him when they made records, she remembered a scar on the side of his face. He told her that it came from a terribly foolish knife fight in his youth. You might be able to see it here:
(right under his lower lip next to the center of his chin, very hard to see, but I can notice it slightly)

-Russell Hunting's legal trouble of the mid-1890's earned him respect and honor for his bravery in going against the rules of obscenity. 
-Vess Ossman's temper was so short and fiery, that any singer or accompanist who was in the room with him when he broke a banjo string was in terrible luck, and was constantly frightened that he might get angry about any little thing. He wouldn't beat his accompanist, be he could get almost too close to doing it. He wanted things done his way---OR ELSE!
-Len Spencer and Fred Hylands got into some bets in the late 1890's. And one of those bets was to see if Len could get to that fad of the late-1890's which was the ancient Roman physique. Len was already very tall, hence being just over 200 pounds, he wanted to see if he could get enough muscle to get to Fred's over 250. Here is the evidence of this queer notion:
Publisher friends, what 'er ya goin ta do? According to his daughter Ethel, Len did indeed achieve that goal, and he got his money from Fred by the end of the summer of 1899. Nice way to waste some money Fred...
-Fred Hylands was regarded as one of the best accompanists of his time(no foolin!), was well liked by all the performer communities he got into, and hundreds were said to have attended his funeral. Similar to Frank P. Banta, but he was never mentioned in the best accompanists of the time, even though he should have been. 
-Arthur Collins:
Was in many failed troupes in the late-1880's, but after all that failure, he was set up as a minor character in Francis Wilson's shows, and later DeWolf Hopper's. While on Hopper's troupe, Collins was in his oriental burlesque Wang, and may have been in an early production of El Capitan.

-Len Spencer was connected with many composers and performers outside of the recording business, but one of the most odd ones is his possible connection with DeWolf Hopper. Len Spencer sang ALL of the vocal selections from El Capitan , even imitating Hopper very distinctly, word for word. In 1898, Hopper heard tell on this and came to Spencer once and told him what he thought of it. That they were finely made, and some other comments that have not been disclosed. Here is one of them(with Fred Hylands on piano!):
Anything from El Capitan that isn't the main march is very rare to hear ever! 

-Silas Leachman was said to have wanted his days of making records to go completely forgotten. While he worked his long term at the Chicago Police department(from c. 1910 to 1936), whenever anyone spoke to him about making records years back, he would refuse to talk about it, and would act like that never happened. They all knew it was him though.

-Fred Hylands was a very popular stage manager and musical director, so one would ponder upon all the tight-legged girls and abbreviated dressed dames around him, such as Anna Held:

and Lillian Russell even
Did he ever allow his eyes to wander around, if you know what I mean...
I don't know personally, but I really do wonder. He did do this line of work until he died, so I will forever question this fact. I'm only saying this because Fred's wife went off and married another actor man two years after Fred croaked. It is Fred Hylands I'm talking about here, and thinking of what he was like, I'm unsure if any ladies(other than his wife, who didn't really get to be very flirtatious with him) would take an interest to him.
Hmm... ... 
-Russell Hunting kept his Shakespearean ways until he died, as he was said to still have done monologues in this style into his days after being Pathe's manager, which was the mid-1920's.

There are dozens more of these stories, and I may have repeated some from other posts, even if I really tried not to. 


I hope you enjoyed this!