Character Studies-- Freddy Hylands(1872-1913)

"I am hired to play and draw my salary for playing, but still this company insists on making me work." said Freddy Hylands as he shook himself over after a day of recording, with a wilted collar unbuttoned.

He was constantly exhausted while working for Columbia, and his rather wide figure didn't seem to help with the amount of work he endured. He hated all the scorching hot days of the warm year of 1898, and he hated the freezing cold winters of 1899 and 1900. The varying weather always made for a cold or hot studio, there was no in-between. He was what held all the records together, and kept the singers up-to-date and on track, always. He wasn't just "that pianist" he was "THE pianist". He believed very highly in his role at Columbia, and his role when the people heard him play with the singers live.  He always played the melodies of all the songs, and added all sorts of other things to call attention to himself for the listener.  Since he was on their staff, he was on salary there, unlike the singers who were paid by the records they made. That was a good thing and a bad thing, as he would get paid at a designated time, but not always when the artists were. 

Freddy was a queer and musically superior chap. His ear for music was freakish, and his ability to modulate keys in a second was truly amazing, and very helpful to the picky singers on Columbia's staff. He was vocal about his complaints however, when something was deemed unjust to his liking, he would immediately yell out to someone near about it, though nothing would be done, he still did it anyhow. His voice was not one to be expected when only seeing him and hearing hims at a piano alone. His voice was loud, deep, like a rasp, and haunting. His tone of voice seemed to fit his figure and size, and those few times he spoke betwixt the takes, his voice would boom through the rooms, and resonate on the walls and the fragile glass diaphragms of the graphophones. Not a soul on the staff and recording talent knew how he got so fat, at such the young age they found him, at only 25 when they first dragged him in, he did not look a man of his age. Only his face and hands looked his age. His legs were long and shapely, with long flat feet at the ends. His red hair looked almost of an unnatural hue, and it shook around like mad whenever he played, adding to the comedic affect of watching him play. When he played, his light blue eyes were always focused, he jolted forward at every large and powerful chord, he stomped his right foot whenever they weren't recording, and whenever he got into playing, sweat ran down his face, no matter if it were cold or warm. His hands seemed effortless, as though the amount of notes he was playing was completely normal, and that his talent was nothing special. At the exhibitions Columbia held almost every night of the week, the few people who payed their attention to him were always in awe of what they saw before their eyes. He always knew when the crowds were looking to him, and he smiled contently to acknowledge them and whipped around his hair, acting as the very Narcissus he named his Gavotte after. He was the epitome of the Rag-Time pianist he was, only that he never spoke of the negro greats who created the music itself. His figure and ego filled the room when he came in, even if he came in all broken up and hungover from the evening before, his voice still boomed, and his playing was still the pride of the young staff at Columbia in 1898 and 1899. His personal life was a fascination to many of the artists he accompanied, and the management of the studios as well, he wasn't one as daring and wild as Len Spencer, but when he had his publishing firm in 1899, that was when he really began to live the way that Spencer did. At his firm, he took in some wild and adventurous performers. He brought on many parties and gatherings that were taking a slow but lethal toll on their bodies, as these so-called "gatherings" involved terrible drugs and throat-rotting alcohol, which most of the time was provided by Fred and his wife Marie. All the staff always wondered what Fred's marriage was like, as to many, it was hard to imagine a woman who could go together with him, but the few times she came out to the exhibitions and performances, she enjoyed herself. It was odd to all the staff, she was a gorgeous woman, tall, shapely, and had a sutler face than George Watson's Margaret, and far more attractive. She seemed to resemble Fred ever so slightly, which is something Fred himself probably never thought of. Her voice was wonderful to hear as well, it wasn't like May Irwin's voice, but she had a knack for Rag-Time just as much as her man did. She did all the dancing for Fred, he wasn't one to skip around on the stage, so she did all of that for him, as he would surely complain about having to do any sort of footwork. It would break his ankles sure. Fred was no Ben Harney dancing wise, but his piano playing was certainly worthy of being compared to his, and at times, could be better than Harney's. Fred wasn't too empathetic as a person, even though he would be hearing all the sorrows and cries of the distressed singers every time he came in, he just acted curious and kind to them, which added to his widely acknowledged fun personality. Really all the man did in the studio was drink his booze, shoot up on some drugs here and there, played until he dropped every day, and got his money when payday came around. Who knows what that wife of his cooked for him! It certainly kept him healthy, and it certainly didn't help that he sat at a piano all day, six days a week, for just about 8 years. He often became sick, and became a burden to the recording process when he was sniffling and sneezing in the fall and winter. He would get stomach bugs(durr...of course...), and sometimes things related to the usually unsanitary studio rooms. He was well-built, but was a fragile figure somehow. He was six feet tall, with long legs, long hands and fingers(hands that hit tenths all over the piano with ease), and long feet, usually enclosed with flat shoes. It was more than likely to find him wearing shoes that hadn't heels at all, as shoes with heels surely would have brought pain to his already suffering knees and ankles. He probably rarely walked to the studio, thinking of his stature, he probably took a cab every morning to Columbia, as working there gave him a substantial income, but not enough to suffice him clearly. This is where his first ideas of having his own union are rooted supposedly, this would very much make sense. If only there were types of medicine in that time to keep him to be a stronger figure, as he would not have been ill so often and would have lived more than 40 years. In the years toward the end of his term at Columbia, he had slimmed down a little, but that was only because of him being ill for so many a time before, and also beginning to perform more by 1904, getting out of the sedentary and sometimes confining studio. He was beginning to decline by the time that Messrs. Easton and Emerson said their final and emotional good-bye to him in 19'5. Many of the staff knew somewhere deep in their souls that he hadn't another ten years left, that soon they would be going to his funeral, by how much they worked him, and beat him up. 

I pretty much just exhausted all of my ideas about Fred Hylands. Many of these the things I said above are assumptions and theories I have had about him working at Columbia. But one thing is for sure, he sure had a hell of a time working there, and he sure as hell influenced all the singers he accompanied. Even if many of the singers he played behind were interviewed years later and never spoke of him, they remembered him for sure, whether they wanted to admit it or not. Marie also remembered him well, even decades into her second marriage. 

I hope you enjoyed this!