Character Studies---Byron G. Harlan(1861-1936)

I don't really understand why I neglect to speak about Byron Harlan very much anymore(and yes, I will do a post on Arthur Collins!) He had a very long an interesting story, that many record historians are now starting to examine more closely, and have found some small things that were bigger roles in his life than previously thought. Harlan was a kind "country-yap" as many would have called him, with a wonderful voice and a great sense of mimicry. He was a professionally trained singer who originally learned to sing opera back in 1880's Chicago. After getting very well-trained vocally and musically, he took these skills with him when he began to tour around in vaudeville troupes and light opera companies. By 1892, he was a very popular singer, at that time he was under the famous Charles Hoyt, doing a few shows here and there on Broadway. By 1895, he was a theatrical director and ran his own company that functioned as a vaudeville group and a minstrel show. Harlan was at each of these performances playing some important role, either singing, or being the "middle-man" of the minstrel show. By 1897, he was a success, doing several shows a week in varying east coast theaters. In 1898, Harlan was performing solo at many popular stages, from Huber's to Pastor's theater. This was the year that he met all the famous recording stars, which in many ways must have been completely by accident. He met Fred Hylands, Len Spencer, Burt Green, Ada Jones, and a handful more. This is really when they start to consider him for hire at Columbia. For some reason, this never happened when it should have, even though Hylands proudly advertised Harlan on covers of his sheet music in 1899(hmm...). It was the boys at Edison that found him and took him in first, they were quicker to make up their minds than Hylands and his crew. Since Edison hired him first, Columbia held back to take him until 1901.  He was an immediate hit with Mr. Edison himself, as for some reason, Walter Miller liked Harlan so much, that he must have told "the old man" that he would enjoy to have Harlan sing at his very exclusive dinner parties. Edison did just that, and invited Harlan to many of these exclusive gatherings, which in many ways, gave Harlan a sort of authority over many of the other artists coming in, like Arthur Collins, Harry MacDonough, Will F. Denny, Frank P. Banta, and most of the regulars at that time. Edison was on close terms with Harlan until Edison died in the early 30's. Harlan was said to have been one of the few who could actually call Edison "Tom" in his presence, and that's saying a whole lot. When Columbia hired Harlan in 1901, he wasn't an immediate success with them, as Hylands liked him, but not really the rest of the staff. It wasn't until 1902 that he really started to gain some ground, as when Arthur Collins proved he had had enough of Joseph Natus, that sparked an even better idea for the Victor and Edison people. Collins and Harlan was finally created in October of 1902, by the staff at Victor. When this duo was created, it started a whole now chapter in Harlan's life, as he was no longer dealing with everyone around him, it was then Collins that he would be dealing with for the next twenty-three years. 

Harlan was an interesting character in the studio, much to the likeness of Fred Hylands. He and Fred seemed like two peas in a pod, even if Hylands was just his accompanist at Columbia only. He owned the room when he entered it, whether it be Columbia or Edison, or even Victor, but this was before Arthur Collins. When Arthur Collins came along, Harlan could not own the room any longer. Collins and Harlan with Fred Hylands was really a very strong and fun group to witness at Columbia, as they knew Hylands like a book, and they practically knew all the cues he would give, even if they didn't really know what he was trying to play. It was really comical, as half the time, Hylands was louder than Collins and Harlan. If they had known it, they both would have thrown Hylands out. But when those sessions were on, it was three ego powerhouses in one, so whoever had the most power was able to shine through the best, and for some reason, Hylands was able to rule over Collins and Harlan sometimes. And he was just the piano player! It must have broken Harlan's heart to hear that Hylands was dropped from Columbia's staff in later 1905, but that was when Collins and Harlan was really a big money-making asset for the record companies. It was really a great idea, as they were both not really outstanding solo artists before 1901, so putting them together made them even stronger singers. It worked invariably. The record buyers loved their harmonization, and their wonderful vaudeville-style sketches on many of the records. Harlan was still a successful solo artist, making numerous records for Victor, Columbia, Zon-O-Phone, Leeds, and Edison. He remained just as popular as Collins, even though Collins was singing all that "Ragtime" and "Coon songs". Harlan was singing all those pretty sentimental songs, and occasionally doing a "rube'' sketch with Frank Stanley. He and Frank Stanley were also a popular duo, as they blended very well, and Stanley was a much more modest fellow to cool the ego factor in the recording rooms. By 1908, Collins and Harlan were a common name on records, just as much as Len Spencer's was ten years before. They were recording all the Rag-Time, popular songs, and occasionally an older minstrel number. Harlan was a seemingly nice and amiable fellow, but when he worked with Collins, it was a little different. Harlan was very particular about things, but so was Collins, so many small conflicts came and went. They argued about songs they wanted to do sometimes, only one argument has been documented in full, but it is certain that they had many more of them along the way. Collins openly stated that he was the more important member of the duo, and that did not stand well with Harlan, as Harlan thought a similar way about this role, even though they were both equally popular no matter where year it was in their partnership. If their popularity was down, both their careers would suffer, if their popularity was up, they would both share the success. There was no better member other duo, so all of that conflict was useless. By the mid-teen's however, they were dropping in popularity, as they were singers who had been in the business since the late-1890's, and it was very rare for 1890's recording stars to remain popular in the business for twenty years. They had achieved this, as by 1922, they were still making records as Collins and Harlan, even if they were not really that popular by 1917. Edison's staff just couldn't let them go, as Mr. Edison still really liked them as people and recording artists. Harlan was no longer a popular artist by 1924, so he only made records occasionally, as he had the money from recording to enjoy his semi-retirement. Collins was gone by 1925, taking his wealth with him, and moved out to Florida. Harlan still had to work sometimes, as he was not really as great with his money. Harlan had never really been so great with his money, and it didn't help that he was a close friend of Fred Hylands' for so many years(that was usually something that seemed great when they knew him, but later it would come back to bite them). Collins knew that Harlan wasn't good with his money, and that must have contributed to why he refused to help him when the Crash of 1929 struck, other than just not wanting to have anything to do with the recording business in his retirement.  Harlan was a broken mess in the 1930's, living in a terrible old house in West Orange, NJ, that Jim Walsh once described as a terrible "run-down" old place that was certainly miserable. Harlan loved recalling those old recording days, but he felt that not a soul cared about those old names recording companies anymore, so this is why not much information came out of those letters from Harlan to Walsh in the early 30's. It's a sad ending to a long and fascinating story, but he died in September of 1936, broke, leaving his daughter and wife. 

His wife Ethel did indeed give a fair amount of information to Walsh in the 1940's, and that is where much of the information about him came from, I do not know what happened to his daughter, but she did live a long time as far as I know. 

I hope you enjoyed this!

Character Studies--- Harry Spencer(1875-1946)

Harry Spencer, the Spencer who was always Len's shadow. 

Many record nerds forget about Len's younger brother Harry,  which is many ways is unfortunate, but does make some sense. He only had one talent, dramatic recitations, not singing. All the singing was left to Len. Harry was damn good at recitations however, and in some ways, he had a voice more fit for doing more dramatized monologues than Len. They both had haunting voices, that were frightening to some who heard them. Harry's voice, being darker and deeper certainly was the more frightening one. Harry could never do those records intended for the Spencer girls that Len did in the late-1890's. Harry had just as strong a love for the phonograph as his brother Len, but never was able to get the love and praise that Len received from his records. Harry had even more of an engineering mindset than Len did, and that's really saying quite a heap, as Len was always said to have been the one who took things from Columbia when they started and was later making chimes records in the churches late at night. Harry knew the technical end of the recording sessions better than anyone did, which is why he was such a great announcer and sound effects man. He remained one of Columbia's best exhibitors for many years, doing practically all of their nightly exhibitions from 1896 to 1901. Harry was a sort of behind-the-scenes genius at Columbia, fixing all the little things in the technology of the studio, and keeping the machines running finely as often as they could be, and he did this for many years, and for thousands of surviving records. 


Harry was the more handsome of the Spencer boys. Many of the ladies and girls that came to the exhibitions looked more toward Harry than Len, as Len was rather frightening sometimes, but Harry, with a sutler face, was easier on the eyes. Harry was not as tall as Len, and had a little more of a plumpness to him, contrasted with Len with that ridiculously tall stature and the ancient Roman physique. Harry's voice was darker than Len's, more penetrating, and certainly haunting. The few times that he was seen with that wife of his, they could easily have been mistaken for Len and Eliza(that was his wife's name). His wife was Gazella, a true Italian dame, with skin more of an Olive tone than pale white, and a long nose, with a shapely figure. When the Spencer's all came to those dinners and parties that were hosted by the Emerson's and Easton's, Harry was much more quiet than Len and his well-respected mother Sarah. Harry hadn't the best social skills, as he was always thinking technically, whereas Len was getting drunk and talking to everyone with full passion and contentment in his voice and words. Gazella did much of the talking for Harry, as many times she would introduce him to new people for him, especially when Len was running that publishing firm with Freddy Hylands. So many new names were dropped in the business in that short period of time, and Harry was only just on the edge of all of that madness. He remained a popular monologists, who was very great at imitating famous political figures. In 1901, Harry was the only successful recording artist to imitate William McKinley not long after he was assassinated. Spencer must have studied the president's speech very closely, probably going to many of his speeches, and probably attended his inauguration parade in 1897.  It must not have been too hard for him, as McKinley was from Ohio, much like the Spencer's were, so that allowed for some immediate likeness when the people hear the record by Spencer. They purposely didn't list the artist on the label when the Climax record was sold in 1901, as it fooled most of the people who heard it, they assumed it was president McKinley shortly before he was shot, but it was actually the voice of Harry Spencer. Harry worked prominently in the business for another 6 years or so, after that living in various boardinghouses with Gazella, not really doing nearly as much as Len was. Harry was just Len's "first servant" if you will, as that Lyceum needed the best help it could get, so Harry was running the thing under Len and his top advisors. He primarily ran the lyceum with his brother until Len croaked in 1914. Harry was probably doing some technical work when he heard from one of his nieces that Len had collapsed on his desk and died. Harry was then forced to run the business, be since he hadn't the social ability and leadership, the business soon fell by the middle of 1915. If Len had known that his whole vaudeville empire had crashed and burned only a few months after he died, he would have gotten into a "fight-to-the-death" with Harry, and probably would have ended up terribly hurting his brother, just from his anger with this. Harry completely left the music business by 1920, from there just living from boardinghouse to boardinghouse with Gazella, telling wild old tales of the old recording business to the other boarders and people he met. His mental health had always been unstable, and since he was so quiet and antisocial, many of the people around him assumed something was not completely right about him, but no one knew what could have been the problem, if there was any. This especially began to show after Len's death, it was a slow downhill drop, but it was getting lesser with every year that passed by. He worked occasional jobs here and there, all up until the second World War, where he was still living as a boarder with Gazella, but by the early 40's, she had died, which was a terrible blow to him. This is where he fell into the abyss, he was sent to a mental asylum in the early 40's, where he did nothing but tell crazy stories, and weep and whine for Len or Gazella. That's all he did there until he died in 1946, over 30 years after Len passed. It's a terrible and hard tale to tell, as he would have been a wonderful source of information about early recording, but he had deteriorated far too much to get a reasonable amount of information from him. Or to get anything out of him, since he was so introverted.

To close off, here is one of his most haunting records, from 1903:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder2913

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies--Billy Golden(1858-1926)

"I throw'd myself in a yaller gal's lap--and the yaller gal turn'd de way!"-from Billy Golden's "Roll On The Ground" from c.188?(recorded in 1898)

Yes indeed,Billy Golden, the phonograph artist who was known for singing ''Turkey in the Straw" perhaps over a thousand times. He had been a specialist with minstrel songs since the 1870's, and not just with his "Turkey in the Straw", but the other handful of songs that he made hits with. He had an interesting background, coming from Cincinnati Ohio, with parents that were apparently involved with the local show business. Golden was actually born William Shires in 1858, and became a butcher boy under his father. After working this job for a little while, he became fascinated with the minstrel troupes that came through his town and aspired to one day become one of them. At around the age of 17(in 1875 mind you!), he started as a dancer and all around performer of minstrel songs, doing whistling, dancing, singing, and even yodeling. He started to travel around in small minstrel troupes all over the mid western US, until he made his way to the big stages of New York in the 1880's. In the mid-1880's, he had a team on the stage with his wife May, still doing the dancing and everything else in blackface.  By 1891, the Columbia Phonograph Company finally found him and wanted him to record for them. His shouting and powerful voice recorded surprisingly well on their primitive machines. He was a master at making minstrel records, and later in that year, he joined the mysterious and long-forgotten Brilliant Quartette. You can hear one of their very few records from 1893 here, with Golden singing and Yodeling as well. Golden was making records like mad in the mid-1890's, recording his old specialties like "Turkey in the Straw" and "Roll on the Ground" and a few more. He was among the first handful of artists to first make records for Emile Berliner in 1894, the year that Berliner introduced the disk record to the United States from Germany. Golden was chosen as one of the first disk record artists because his voice was loud enough and it would come through very well on the hand-wound "Gram-o-phons" as they were called by the Germanic inventor Berliner. He made records of all his specialties on Berliner, Columbia, and later on Edison and Victor. 


Golden was a real "riot" in the studio. He would come in to record just often and as much as Len Spencer would. He and Spencer connected at Columbia way back in '89, and they really had so much in common that their friendship was inevitable. Both with Ohio roots, they both had a connection that ran deep in their souls, and when they were both in the studio together, you could see it. But as Spencer did, when Fred Hylands came along, he left Golden out of that small circle of friends and replaced him with Hylands. Golden was piercingly loud, and it is really a miracle that the machines were ever able to take his voice without breaking their glass on the reproducers. His signature shout at the beginning "WELL---" was something that he specialized in doing, and whenever you heard that, you knew it was Billy Golden. He had a terrible sense of overall pitch, not just in his notoriously terrible but very bird-like whistling, but also in much of his singing, as he was completely untrained(much like Dan Quinn!). He almost gave the impression that he was unable to read or write, or at least not very well. This may have been a possibility as to why he had so few songs in his repertoire and why he didn't really learn any new songs. It helped that the pianists that he had behind him were always playing new things, and every time they played, it was different, even if it were the same song as the last one. Golden was great at singing old minstrel songs, and when any one of the old-timer record listeners was hearing a minstrel song, they immediately expected it to be Billy Golden, not Len Spencer. Golden had an extraordinary range, being able to sing high tenor, and also able to sing in that low crackly voice that he used sometimes, but of course, he hadn't really the best ears for notes. He especially enjoyed working with Hylands, as they were practically raised in the same environment and began their careers in the same time, and in the same area. They may have run into each other for all they knew! His shout at the beginning of all his solo records boomed in every studio, didn't matter which one mentioned. He was much more suited to be able to be heard in the Swiss alps than at the big long Columbia recording room, more so than George P. Watson or L. W. Lipp(Edison's big yodeler in 1897 to 1900). All the doors had to be shut if Golden was making records at Columbia, so other records could still be made down the hall, and not in the room next to it. He always had to be placed in the big room at Columbia, because his voice was so loud, and the small rooms would never work in the sense balancing, especially with his piercing whistling. Just like many of the artists there, his wife May very much enjoyed seeing him do what he did, and sometimes came in with him to watch the whole process go by, she especially liked to do this all dressed up for the exhibitions. He and Billy were always in love, and it was evident, bot as much as Vess and Eunice, but it was a blooming love always. After 1903, Golden's popularity on records dropped dramatically, so it was in 1904 or 05 that he skipped out on the recording business and left for a few years. He returned in later 1908 to record only sketches for some reason. That was all that he recorded form 1908 to just a few years before he died. He went through Billy Heins, Joe Hughes, and James Marlowe in this time(from 1908 to 1921), which was actually an interesting mix of performers. They all blended with Golden pretty well, and to tell the truth, James Marlowe blended with Golden the best, vocally and performance wise, more so than Len Spencer did. It isn't known what Golden did in that short time between 1921 and 1926, but he probably just ended his career in recording and performing completely, which was the right thing to do, since he was an aging ol minstrel man. He must have been reasonably wealthy when he died, and left some of the money to his wife. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies-- Burt. Green(1874-1921)

Burton Green, the second husband of Irene Franklin, and long-time friend of Fred Hylands. Green was an interesting fellow, who seemed to be one who latched onto other great performers and piano players from time to time. He was considered one of the first Rag-Time pianists and performers alongside Ben R. Harney in 1896 and 1897. He was not only a great pianist, but also a great imitator of other performers and pianists as well. He was a dancer in his earliest performing days of Rag-Time, just like Harney was, and he was a good one too, but he didn't seem to keep up the dancing too long after 1900. He must have had a similar mindset and personality to Fred Hylands, as he was a good friend of his not only because of the publishing firm, but also because they were both well-respected Rag-Time pianists in the same area. Burt's origins are unknown, but it would seem that he had been playing the piano for many years by the time he started performing as an "Ethiopian song" pianist around 1893 or 1894. He was really playing an early installment of Rag-Time, but not a person would have known it when seeing him. When Rag-Time was given that official name, Green was imitating the main performer of the style of music, Ben Harney, and was becoming well-known for doing so. This was all when he was married to his first wife, who was a writer, and not really to his liking somewhat, as he strayed from her many times throughout their marriage. By 1897, he was working at Huber's museum/theater, and was getting paid a hefty salary for doing this. This is where he ran into Fred Hylands, Len Spencer, and a few more probably. He soon befriended Hylands, and later got to know Spencer, Roger Harding, Will Hardman(Hylands' lyricist), and Harry Yeager. Burt had no idea what a mess he got himself into, Hylands' not-so-great leadership, Spencer's promises that never became true, Steve Porter's yacht races, and a host of other things. This only lasted a year and a half though. 


Burt wasn't on Columbia's staff, but it almost seemed that way by the way he acted with those boys at Hylands, Spencer and Yeager. He wasn't exactly as wild and ambitious as Fred and Len, but he was the one who would go out an do the "dirty work" for the firm, by this, it is meant that he went out coaxing all the wives of firm members to join in. That oftentimes wouldn't work with Hylands or Roger Harding, so Burt had to do it. He would go out and flirt with the wives of many of the prominent publishers, performers, and investors, to convince them to get involved with the firm. Burt was a short man, at about 5 foot six, with hands that weren't too long, average sized feet, and a slight build. The best thing about him was that wild dark hair of his, with an unruly cowlick toward the right hand side of his long forehead. His hair rarely looked groomed, due to how it was naturally shaped, it seemed to make for an interesting sight when he performed. He wasn't as much of a comical picture when he played, unlike Fred Hylands, but he certainly sometimes tried to cultivate Hylands' stylings and also his attitude when he played. He would sometimes shake around his hair just like Freddy would, and it was a real sight when he did it. When Hylands started up the firm in 1899, Burt came in almost every day, just like Fred and Roger would, and when they were all there, it would become a real party, with all sorts of musical ideas being spread, and yarns being told. Burt would always watch Freddy with focused eyes and ears, taking in every single detail that he observed, even if Fred was high on some kind of drug or drunk. Burt was able imitate every one of the members of the firm, by their playing, singing, and even their usual antics and tones of voice. This extraordinary talent of his proved very entertaining at their over-the-top parties at the offices of the firm, and also at Fred's flat or Len's mansion. Burt went out and drank with Fred after recording days often, and it wouldn't at all be surprising for Burt to wake the next morning on Fred's couch or on the floor of his flat. His wife would often come with him to the firm during the middle of the day, but Burt would always tell her to scram by the evening, so the antics could begin. After the collapse of the firm in later-1900, Burt still remained a close friend of Fred's and Len's, but more so Fred, as it was quite a great deal of Len's fault that the firm fell so quickly. Fred and Burt still went out to drink after their day's work in the evenings, as long as Fred worked at Columbia, and as long as Burt worked at Huber's. Around 1906, Burt was working at Huber's one evening just as usual, and he was told a small and comical singer girl named Irene Franklin was going to be singing. He had heard of her before, but was not very aware of her. The moment she stepped out onstage, he was captured by her, with a thrust of passion shooting through his blood, with his eyes bright and entranced, silent at the piano. Irene--- how he wanted her bad. He tried all the flirting he could after the next few performances with her at Huber's, she held back for a little while, but by 1908, she finally allowed him to split with that dreaded first wife of his. He was split with her quick, and ran off with Irene in only a few months. Their first daughter was born sometime in 1908. It was a perfect marriage, and it was talked about in the media like mad, it was a celebrity marriage, so to speak. They were popular everywhere, and they were touring like mad, with almost no time to rest between tours and performances. This life though was hitting Burt hard, much like it was with Fred Hylands around the same time, by 1912 I mean. Fred died quick the next year after a few months in England, and it is a sure thing that Burt and Irene were invited to the funeral service. Burt was still holding up pretty well surprisingly by then, but he was still out drinking and taking in drugs, as his success with Irene was certainly getting to him by 1916. He and Irene were still traveling widely in 1917, including going off to France to perform for the boys in the trenches. But by 1919 and 1920, Burt was starting to have some severe health issues, getting bugs that turned into things that weakened him permanently. He did die at home, but it must not have been a very pleasant or painless death, much like his dear old friend Freddy or Len. But as performer women did in this time, Irene married another performer after Burt died, and pretty quickly too, quicker than Marie Hylands did for some reason. 

I'm back from the West Coast Ragtime festival! It was such a great time hanging out with "the squad"and playing there! I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies--Russell Hunting(1864-1943)

"I don't give a @$%* about Comstock! I'll give 'em what they want to hear!"
That was Russ Hunting's logic when it came to his smut cylinders.

Russ Hunting was one of the more daring and crass of the early recording stars of the first full decade of recording. He really tried to get his message out that the "smut" he was recording was what his friends wanted to hear, and what the majority of the public wanted to hear. It was awful and it's hard on the ears to bare the language that Hunting used on his "smut" cylinders. It's all the cuss words we know, and he used them as a joke, and to get his points across. He made his records even more terrifying with the tones of voice and drama that he had mastered so well as a Shakespearean actor. His humor was very clever, even if the premise of many of these smut cylinders seemed wrong, the humor is genuinely funny, and very sophisticated. Hunting was truly the most forward-thinking of any of the early recording stars. His "Casey" sketches are a good example of his sense of humor, but his half a dozen surviving smut cylinders are really where his sense of humor lies. 


Hunting found the antics of his conservative friends foolish. He was always going in that direction that he was going in, and it seemed always as though it was a tangent from the others around him. Hunting went out and did many of the things that he described in his crass cylinders, so many of the scenes he set in these cylinders were actually things that he experienced. All the tales of wild men he told on these now lost cylinders, were just descriptions of his friends in the studios, and in the management of the few studios he worked for. He would never name them, "Len", "George", "Steve", or "Freddy", but he knew exactly who he was speaking of, even if his friends with these names hadn't a clue. All the friends of his found the "smut" cylinder idea a great thing as a joke for a little while, but that sense of esoteric records didn't last, as Hunting knew some phonograph parlor owners who were willing to buy dozens of his records. He was actually getting very good profits from these records that were only intended for him and his friends. It was a great idea, and all the parlor owners wanted more of them, and he was willing to do them favors. Hunting became a sort of Satan to the law by 1895, with all the Christian law authorities searching for him everywhere. They went to many parlors and destroyed the boxes filled with the brown cylinders Hunting made all his smut recordings on. He knew the law was after him, and he found it amusing that they were. He laughed at their strong beliefs in ridding of his "Radical cylinders", and his friends did for a short time. He continued to make more of these records, and gain even more profits from this. This all ended in early 1896, when he began to go out on the streets of Manhattan all bundled up and hidden, and he saw what Anthony Comstock's men were doing to his records, and to the parlor and saloon owners. He began to see how much the Christian authorities hated his records. In March of 1896, one of Comstock's men slyly came in disguise to Hunting's staying place at the time posing as a record buyer with kind intentions, but not long after he saw Hunting actually make one of these smut cylinders, he handcuffed him and grabbed hold of him, smashing the brown wax cylinder once he got Hunting on the ground. Hunting was a lost cause in the courts, and he lost the case inevitably, even if he claimed he was giving what the public really wanted, what the record companies wouldn't sell themselves. He thought he was doing them a favor. He stayed in prison for three months, thinking up some new ideas of what he could do to improve his reputation after he was let out. He was let out at the end of the summer of 1896, and he returned first to Steve Porter to start a film company. Hunting's intent was to make films illustrating the scenes in his "Casey" sketches, which was a great idea to start with, but it never came through and seemed to work. The film idea didn't work, but Hunting and Porter still kept interest in the film business, so this dual interest came together as one when Hunting began The Phonoscope. After that began in November of 1896, it was an instant success, and it got more people interested in the recording business, and into the exhibitions. Since Hunting ran hundreds of Columbia exhibitions, he saw the dramatic changes in attendance of these exhibitions. He remained in the United States for a few more years, earning great success all over the world, seemingly more than before the whole bust of 1896. In later-1898, he set off for England to start another career at the Edison-Bell phonograph company. He remained there for almost 20 years, making Pathe the best record company in all of Europe, and building up the Edison lines out in England. He came back to the US in 1915 to establish the Pathe Company in New York. That was a monumental success, and Pathe records were a hit in many ways. They were not only an interesting innovation in recording style, but also in sound quality. Hunting had somehow found out how ti make reverb on his records, which in that time was considered an alien type of thing, since the studios were so small. Hunting's Pathe studio was small, but he did something that made it sound just like a concert hall. This is really where he showed his genius side, was when he worked at Pathe, as he was also the man who decided to record the "Hell Fighters Band" after their return from the French Trenches. Hunting must have loved the idea of "Jass" that was emerging, so he was up on every trend that came around, even if he was thinking a few steps ahead usually. His love for drama and humor stayed with him for the entirety of his life, as he could be seen in the 1920's and 30's still doing some of his old "Casey" sketches, and also performing some Shakespeare here and there. He was a very fun and amiable man, short, slim, dark-haired, and had some comical-looking pointy ears that were a crowning feature about him. He never dressed frivolously, and wasn't one to over-compensate for anything by what he wore or what he said. He was a very honest man, who was willing to state the actual truth about anyone to their face, whether it be good or bad. He would use all sorts of slang and dirty words and phrases, which made his informal speech always interesting to listen to. He truly left a legacy that mustn't be forgotten. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies--George Graham(c.1862-?)

Ahh yes, George Graham, the fascinating unknown character of the 1890's recording studio. He was a very mysterious character, who no one in the studios knew about, and never dared to ask about. They found him too funny, therefore, didn't bother to get any information out of him. He made records in bunches from 1896 to 1903, and when I say that I mean that he came not too often to the studios, but when he did, he always had half a dozen or so of new monologues. He was always a real riot in the studio, sometimes making the engineers laugh so often that they had to re-do the take. Graham's origins are completely unknown, except for the fact that he worked in medicine troupes in the early 1890's. That is really what is known about him prior to his recording career, and the specifics of these troupes are not even known.  I am certain that he came from the Mid-west, which state, I have no idea. It might be Indiana, but then it might be something like Wisconsin. That is unknown, but by studying his dialect and pronunciations of certain words and syllables, he is certainly from a similar area to Fred Hylands. Why Hylands? Well, the few times that I have heard Hylands speak, he had the same sort of dialect, with dropping of the same letters and tones. Graham also sounded a little like Byron Harlan, who hailed from rural Kansas. Hylands also had the same sort of raspy flair that Graham was so famous for on his records. You can hear Hylands at the end of this brown wax cylinder here. Hear it? Yep, I certainly do, even if Hylands was probably a little tipsy by then, you can still pinpoint it easily. 

Graham was the most entertaining monologist that the earliest record companies had on their staff. He would come in to Berliner stumbling many times, but other times he would end up that way. The studio engineers would have to set up the small stand they made for him, which would also be a big production, as getting him to stay put was sometimes more difficult than it would seem. He would drink like mad, having a full bottle of something when he came in, and it would be all gone by the end of his day in the studio. Sometimes, well most of the time that is, the engineers and other Berliner staff members would seriously worry about him getting home after the days in the studio. Who knows what could have happened to him after he left that studio door. He must have showed up on those few days where he was completely sober, broken up by a "slash" or fight from the night before. The few times that he wouldn't drink were days where he was recovering from a terrible hangover. Those days were fascinating to behold, as he was a very quick-minded and bright man, a side of him that was unexpected in so many ways. He was one who really changed his means after he drank, but some think he had a darker side to him. Maybe he was a wife-beater? He certainly was vocal about his conservative expectations about women on his records, and this can possibly indicate something as cruel and barbaric as the latter notion. Something was harsh about him, deep in his personal life, something wasn't right. His raspy and rough voice certainly was that of a man with a conscious demeanor that was amiable and fun, but his unconscious means must have been something very different. He was a genuinely funny man, with great puns that sometimes seemed to the level of crudeness of Russell Hunting. He learned the minstrel business from Len Spencer not long after he started working at Columbia in the late-1890's, which changed his direction a little bit, as he was just wanting to be a straight comedic monologist, but the minstrel twang and character suited him well somehow. He loved the dialect, even if he wasn't the best at vocally illustrating the caricature itself. The odd thing is that the Columbia staff kept away his drinks, and kept them in very modest amounts, so on all the few Columbia's he made, he was his bright and clear self. The Berliner and Victor people let him have it. They found it just amusing, and didn't mind how much of a pain it was to control him, and how many takes they would have to do in order to get a decent one. Big boss Len Spencer didn't want Graham at his drinks to the fullest, which is odd considering the conditions under which Fred Hylands wasn't monitored, by Spencer, and anyone for that matter. Graham then transferred over to the Victor company(like most late-Berliner artists did) in 1900, and was a regular around there, able to drink freely at the delight of the engineers and other staff members present. He made fifty or so fantastic and hilarious Victor records and then vanished. Not a soul knew what happened to him. He was never to be seen on records again, and somehow it seemed like he didn't exist after 1903. At least when many of his colleagues of the late-1890's disappeared, it is known where they went or if they died. With Graham, no one knows. He might have died, or maybe he lived a few more years? It is a great mystery that perhaps may never be known. He vanished from the recording scene like many of the recording fiends of the 1890's did, but where he went is unknown. 

Anyhow, to close off here is one of the three or so issued Columbia's he made under the obliging of Len Spencer from 1903:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder4703
And NO! Len spencer is NOT  the speaker here, I am 100% sure that the voice heard here is that of George Graham. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies-- Steve Porter(1864-1936)

"You're all invited! Whether Senorita Chiquita wins or loses!" 

that was Porter's attitude toward his yacht races of the late-1890's.

Porter was always a wealthy man, for reasons unknown. He had expensive habits, and was a friend of the frivolous and financially irresponsible Fred Hylands. This profitable and risky business didn't help that fact. Porter was a very innovative and creative man in the early recording business, as he was one of those non-Edison film-makers who tried to blend sound and film together as one. He made many new gadgets for the recording business, and much later after his recording career, he had the first commercial hearing aid patented.

Porter was the best risk-taker Columbia ever had. He would try things that literally had three quarters of possibility that they would fail, but he had the means and money to take these terrible gambles. Other than Len Spencer, Porter helped along Fred Hylands in his publishing firms, and in general as well, as Hylands was oftentimes in need of extra dough. Porter had first gotten into the recording business from knowing Russ Hunting. Like all the other friends of Liberal Hunting, Porter found Hunting's "smut" cylinders a terrible idea, and was bound to bust. After Hunting got out of prison, he and Porter reunited, and began an experimental film business. This quickly failed, and a month or so later, Hunting began the magazine The Phonoscope. This was where Porter began to actually make records. In early 1897, Porter became one of the Columbia crowd, though he was more conservative than some of his fellows. He wasn't a "Rag Time'' singer, nor was he a true Irish Tenor, he was similar in many ways to the already popular S. H. Dudley. Porter was a singer of all the sacred songs, quartette material, and popular songs. He wasn't something too special when he sang solo, but when he was in a quartette, he was a perfect blending voice. How Porter decided to work with Fred Hylands is lost, but it must be the nature of Hylands being risky with his money, and that Porter wanted to help out Fred who was always short of cash. Porter had gotten into Yacht races in 1897 and 1898, which was a big thing for the Columbia staff, as when a race came up, everyone on the talent staff would be out of work that day for the race. It was a big thing for Porter, even if his boat wasn't in the best of luck. Everyone would throw in some money for bets, some more than others, and they would either lose or win, just like the horse races the Spencer's went off and played at(also Porter not surprisingly...). His schooner was The Chiquita, and she was a pretty successful boat, winning several big tournaments in 1898 and 1899, which made Porter even richer by 1899, which is probably where Hylands took an interest to Porter. In march of 1899, Porter finally joined Hylands and Roger Harding in his "Knickerbocker Publishing" firm, which didn't last too long under that name. This later became "Hylands, Spencer and Yeager", in which Porter was still involved greatly, under the lording leadership of Fred Hylands. Porter was out of this firm a little bit before it collapsed, and before all of Fred's stock was sold in 1902, it left Fred almost broke for a little while, but Porter was going on to better things that pitying Fred Hylands' sorrow. Porter was off to Europe, where he must have run into his old friend Russ Hunting. Porter was  a recording manager for Nicole records in 1902 to 1906, which was a London based record company. In this time away from western shores, Porter went all over India, and Burma as well, running record affairs in those companies. He returned to his old friends refreshed, and ready to record quick. He began making records with Len Spencer right away, as he was still going strong in the recording business. He saw who was still recording and who wasn't, pitied those who weren't, but was right back to making records. This was the time that began making those really popular and numerous "Flannigan" records, much to the likeness of his friend Russ Hunting's "Casey" records of the 1890's. He was not working nearly as much with Spencer after he and Ada Jones began to collaborate again(notice I said again...). Porter was making popular Irish sketch records before 1910, and after he met up with Byron Harlan again, they started making records like mad. Porter was a kind and amiable man, short, dark blond, always well-dressed, this way after learning of the true sins of the music business from working with Len Spencer and Fred Hylands. He really truly enjoyed working in the studios, and always had a passion for making records, and creating new things. His patents of the late-1890's can truly show for it. He still invented, and made records into the 20's, when most of his old friends had either died, or were almost dead. It's surprising really, that the yacht racing sacred song singer of the 1890's made the first commercially sold hearing aid, in 1926. His sales were broken by the crash of 1929, and he lived terribly for the next few years after that, dying in the same year and under the same despair that Byron Harlan did.

 I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies--Vess L. Ossman(1868-1923)

"I am the banjo king! Ruby Brooks could get hanged and I wouldn't give a rap!"

is what Vess Ossman thought of his banjo competitor Ruby Brooks. 

Ossman was truly one of the more complicated personalities of the early recording business, with not only a convoluted studio presence, but also a tangled personal life. He made hundreds of records, with thousands of takes before the end of the 'round era in 1898, and worked for every active record company in his day, from 1893 to 1917. His skill on the banjo kept him employed everywhere, both in the studios, and on all the stages and vaudeville houses. 

Vess was a complicated man. He had a personal life that no one at the studios but Fred Hylands  and Frank Banta knew about(as the pianists always heard everyone's stories). He had a very productive relationship with his wife Eunice, who sometimes came in to Columbia to see and hear him make a few of those thousands of records. She and him were madly in love, and clearly by how they acted toward each other, this was certainly true. Those few staff members who were actually invited to his home were sure to remember his family life, and also his home.  He had eight children in all with his wife, but many of them died young or were miscarriages. This fact got some of the staff members curious, and therefore, some rumours were spread. Before he was a recording fiend, he was winning all the banjo competitions, and out getting into odd trouble. In 1890, he disappeared with a 15-year-old girl(who would later be his wife), and returned to the stage scene in mid-1891 with his pregnant wife, who miscarried a month or so later. That was always mysterious to the staff members, especially Frank Banta, as Banta had started working with Ossman not too long after all of this happened. In 1893, he teamed with Frank Banta, who was an up-and-coming young pianist and bandleader, who found Ossman to be a pretty reasonable match with his piano style. Ossman and Banta were an act by 1894, with Banta as his official accompanist. This is where Banta first gets his job at Edison. Ossman was rather tall, unexpectedly so in some ways, as he had very long hands, long slim legs, and a face that was a true mixture of German and Irish. He had all the prettiest aspects of both nationalities, with that very photogenic face of his, he must have loved getting his picture taken. Being Ossman's accompanist was a real pain, as he was always very specific of what the pianist should play, and how they ought to play it, without playing too much. This was easy for Banta, but when Ossman began working with Hylands, there was certainly some conflict. Ossman and Hylands made for an unexpectedly great duo, even if Hylands was always calling for attention behind the star of the performance, no matter who it was at front. Ossman and Hylands' egos must have just fused together perfectly. When Ossman walked into any studio, he was in charge, no matter what the accompanist would say. Ossman owned the room, even if the engineers would have to move things around like they always did, he would still speak out against them often.  He would take the most specific and longest time to get his banjo tuned up, he wanted everything to be perfect always, and it started with him getting tuned up. If a string would break, all hell would break loose. It was bad luck among the singers and accompanists to be in the room with Ossman when he broke a string. It didn't help that it was either very warm or cold in the North Eastern seasons, as well as it being humid. He would explode when he broke a string, or someone wasn't cooperative with him, and it was not a pretty sight to see from a distance. He was rough, and how he would eat up anyone he was yelling at. His temper was terrible, he really let the Irish temper of his out, and all the staff members knew of this very well. Sometimes they would want to laugh, but couldn't, because he would blacken their eyes for sure, and maybe crack some bones if he had the nerve. Ossman hated people who bossed him around, which were very few people not surprisingly. He worked with the Dudley brothers from 1904 to 1907, and that was an interesting experience for both Vess, and also the Dudley's. Ossman had never worked in a group of musicians before, and having to share the profits and fame with two other people was hard for him. He did not like having to share his success with the Dudley's, even if he enjoyed them as people. Ossman working as an accompanist was never a good idea, as he was always the star, just like Fred Hylands' logic. After the Dudley brothers split with Vess in 1907, he took a bit of a dive in popularity, and he decreased. His popularity decreased significant amounts each year after 1908, even though he was still continuing to get engagements everywhere. By 1912, it was really Fred Van Eps who had taken Vess' place in the recording business, which angered Vess greatly, as for years he had built a a hatred for Van Eps, but it was inevitable that Van Eps would eventually take his spot. Van Eps was really in many ways a better banjoist, but the king of them all was Fred Bacon, the man who had been on the scene all along, but hid in the shadows for years from all the nasty competition. Ossman went on tours after 1916, after he formed his own band, and was getting engagements. He was not to be found in New York after 1917, as the record companies dropped him in that year. He was still getting "gigs" out in the mid-west, as that was where he died, and where his son, Vess Jr., died as well. He was on tour when he suffered a heart attack in early December of 1923, he was later brought to St. Louis, where his son was living at the time. Even if "the Banjo King" wasn't the kindest individual, he was still great at what he did, and was called that for a reason. 

For some interesting sounds, here are a few of Vess' records.

Here is his wonderfully done version of "Whistling Rufus" with Fred Hylands, from December of 1899:https://ia802303.us.archive.org/10/items/VessLOssman/VessLOssman-WhistlingRufus.mp3
Here is his fantastic"Sounds from Africa" from 1898, with Fred Hylands:http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder15464
Here is his "Salome Intermezzo" with Fred Hylands, from 1901:
https://ia802303.us.archive.org/10/items/VessLOssman/VessLOssman-OrientalIntermezzoSalome.mp3
(Listen closely to the piano at around 1:50 in that minor part! SO HOT! Those fifths are really audible!)
This next one is one of many Victors where Ossman announced himself as "The Banjo King", here is his and Fred Hylands' version of Leslie Stuart's "Tell Me Pretty Maiden", from 1901:
http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100002190/Pre-matrix_B-3049-Tell_me_pretty_maiden

And to close off here is Ossman and Len Spencer's wonderful take of "Hot Time in the Old Town" from late 1897:
https://ia902606.us.archive.org/1/items/LenSpencerVessOssman/LenSpencerVessOssman-AHotTimeintheOldTown.mp3
Ossman was begging for attention behind Spencer always.

I hope you enjoyed this! Getting ready for the West Coast Ragtime festival has really been consuming my time lately!