Odds and Ends in piano accompaniment--Leeds and Busy Bee

These strange record labels are not often considered musically and material-wise to many collectors I know, only because they were infamous for their not very good record quality, as when they're in bad condition, they sound unbearable to listen to. Their sound quality was actually pretty good for the time period, many of them being in bad shape is what has earned them the bad reputation. They are the strangest and most interesting of all the early disc labels to listen to, as their mysterious management let the strangest things pass. Of all the record companies of the early era, Leeds had the easiest rules when it came to anything recorded in their studio, as many selections done by these popular studio stars were only found on Leeds records. They basically took masters and titles from other labels that the big companies didn't find useful. 

There are so many things we will never know about Leeds records, as nothing of their ledgers are left, and their record labels are not really the most informative all the time. Leeds records must have had some connections with Columbia, and it must have been rooted in the late-1890's in fact, since that's when they began making cylinder records. Those Leeds workers must have used late-1890's Columbia technology, and improved upon it, as their gold foil records sounded fantastic. The future Leeds studio workers probably originated at late-1890's Columbia, who later went out to Talk-O-Phone in Ohio, which was where the headquarters for the company that Leeds was owned by. With the roots in the "Clan era" at Columbia, they had their eyes(and ears), on the good musicians and studio stars there. While Leeds sold cylinders in 1900 to 1903, they watched from their high perch all of the strange and brutal legal doings and show-biz drama at Columbia, Climax, Victor and Lambert, they were figuring out who and what they'd be able to reap from the remains of these bouts. By early 1903, their era of making cylinders had come to an abrupt end, but they were making discs at this time, in fact, making those famous gold foil label records. These records were the most "anything goes" types of recordings ever made at that time, even more so than late-1890's Columbia records. 

The management at Leeds must have seized the moment when Hylands was all fired up about his union bust in 1902, Hylands was infrequently at Columbia after that, so the Leeds people must have made a contract with some Columbia staff members. Since there were loopholes in many of the rules and contracting guidelines, Leeds was alright to make records for the time being, and snatch Columbia's discontented pianist at a moment of dying embers in the man's flames of hate. 
Around the end of 1903, the Busy Bee label did the same, for the same reason that Leeds did. With these strange new labels attaining Hylands finally, after observing him from a long distance, they turned him loose in their studios. They probably told him something like this at Leeds and Busy Bee:

"We've seen that you're such a great studio worker and pianist, so we'll just allow you to take over the orchestra."

They didn't realise how much of a bad idea that was. It is not really noticeable to most people who listen to these Leeds or Busy Bee records, but if you're paying attention somewhat to the music, most of those Leeds records with piano accompaniment or piano in the orchestra, they sound broken. This must have been a similar story to those Zon-O-Phone records I spoke of in earlier posts, where the studio workers enjoyed Hylands in their studio while he remained there. Of course, they probably didn't take it to mind at first that Hylands was a problematic alcoholic sometimes, but they soon learnt of their mistake.
 Getting into this reminds me of a recording that my friend Craig once played for me. This was a Busy Bee record from 1905, by the Invincible Quartette, and it was them performing the popular coon song "Shame On You". The singing wasn't very good to start, but to make matters worse, the piano playing wasn't good either. The piano was not in time with the singing as I recall now, and much of the sketch part of the record was very strange and didn't sound right. I wish I could share a transfer of the record here, but it's been several years since I heard it. I only mention it because it's a good example of a very bad take issued by Busy Bee, with Hylands not playing very well on the piano behind them. There were many more records they issued that had a similar story. 
Another thing to point out about Busy Bee records is that their house orchestra was not very good, and they have a similar tale to the Leeds orchestra, which includes the same pianist. I don't know what Busy Bee and Leeds did with balancing, but one thing is for sure, they almost always had that piano very loud and oftentimes consuming the other instruments in the orchestra. I heard one recently from 1905 by Collins and Harlan where the orchestra doesn't really sound very good, but the rhythm and sense of time is very good, and makes up for the out-of-tune cornet and violin. The piano was once again consuming, as it usually was on Busy Bee records. Since Busy Bee records were essentially Leeds masters most of the time, it is very likely that Hylands more often than not on that very loud and overpowering piano. 

Here is an example: "The Whirlwind Polka" by Bohumir Kryl on Busy Bee A-88
This record exhibits everything I was talking about. Since it was recorded in 1905, it helps that it's still within the range of Hylands still doing studio work somewhat. The issue with many of these later Leeds masters is that they are recorded in 1905 and in the years after that, so that doesn't mean that any one of these well-known studio pianists were on piano. When I say that I mean records like Ossman's 1907 Leeds take of "Dill Pickles". It's far too late to be any of the early studio pianists, though it sounds like one of them in many ways. Maybe we're underestimating Leeds in this sense, in the sense that maybe they had some sort of "deal" with Hylands that lasted longer than when he was dropped from Columbia. It's not impossible, but it's strange. 

The only records that Leeds made where it's certainly Hylands on piano are the early Gold foil records from 1903. All of those have all of the Hylands characteristics, and it made their house orchestra sound a little like the Columbia orchestra, which is a little weird.  I have't really heard too many of these Gold Foil Leeds records, but from what I've heard, the management there must have had a special deal or contract with Hylands. They probably told him they'd pay him a certain amount that he really liked, so he found their business just as good, if not better than Columbia's. It must have been better at the time it happened, since Columbia's orchestra was becoming a partnership that threw Hylands out of most discussion. By this, it is meant that Charles Prince was taking over, and was creating and orchestra with less piano, and entering in more musicians that weren't old favourites. At Leeds, it seemed that Hylands was the leader man, which was just what he needed when Prince was gradually creating the new Columbia orchestra. During his term at Leeds, Hylands was making their records interesting, and it's where we get records like these:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-JKCK12kEQ4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbkP0rNj8IY

https://ia802300.us.archive.org/31/items/ArthurCollins_part2/ArthurCollins-TheGooGooManCoonSong.mp3

Yes I know all three of these records are by Collins, didn't really mean for that to happen. 
All three of these examples exhibit Hylands attributes, and what's more, they exhibit different ones! The first one listed even has the amazing added bonus of walking bass octaves in the interlude at the beginning and at the very end of the record! The second one has some of the strange rhythmic patterns that are kind of syncopated much like on many Columbia's. It's clear that Leeds had some kind of deal with Columbia when they were making those gold foil records. 

The final Leeds record I would like to showcase it one that is owned by one of my friends in collecting, and in fact, there's a good picture of the label as well!

It is a little hard to read, which is somewhat common with those Gold Foil Leeds records. 

The information given is not very complete, as all they give as the performer is"S Q and O." which to someone who doesn't really well know these records would be a sort of dead end at first sight. Without further ado, here is that record:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uAlQo3lfKps

It is just the strangest thing, with the most unusual unknown origins. The Spencer quintette? Who the hell was in that? Other than Len Spencer obviously, all the other voices are very hard to pick out, but I have a feeling that somewhere in the cheers and singing, Fred Hylands can be heard(since he's on piano). I do think I hear both Spencer's here, which would logically make sense, but at the same time is very weird. Any one of Spencer's friends could be here, so the guesses are limitless with this record. I'm not entirely sure of the premise of this descriptive selection either, which is odd, because usually we can figure out what it is with descriptive selections of the Spencer's making. As said in the video description in the link, it is the Len Spencer party record, and that is so in all senses of the term. It confirms much of what I've hypothesized about Spencer and his friends, and it's not a Columbia record! I cannot start throwing around guesses as to who I think is on this record, and I'll leave that to you to comment and leave your guesses. 

Before I finish, the picture of that label just above came from an interesting and informative post here:

http://edisoneffect.blogspot.com/2012/12/leeds-records-and-many-labels-that-came.html

Enjoy! 

*It must be noted that the strangest thing about Leeds having Fred Hylands as their pianist, is that Columbia was one of the disc record companies who found Leeds to be an illegal and pestering issue while Columbia held those patents, so Leeds might have done something even more hidden and deceiving than just grabbing Hylands by the collar to record in their studio. Essentially, this was the only time that Hylands was working for an enemy of Columbia, and probably agreed to that just to piss off the Columbia management.*

Hope you enjoyed this! 

14th Street Swells--Some popular New York Rag pianists

A cartoon I did poking fun at Burt Green and Fred Hylands as being "swells" who both lived and worked on 14th street in the late-1890's. 

Back in 1897 and 1898, East 14th street in New York City was a hub for several theaters, and where many of the pianists who played there lived. Among these swells included Burt Green, Mike Bernard, Ben Harney, and Fred Hylands. Pretty much the entire New York "rag time" scene lived either on 14th street, or somewhere around it. Much of these old buildings where the pianists resided still stand to-day on 14th street, including Fred Hylands' old flat while he worked at Columbia in his early era there. 

It seemed inevitable for all of these pianists to know one another, as they all worked at the same theater, and Hylands was their manager at one hot point. First, in 1896, Ben Harney broke the old traditions of vaudeville music by performing his "ragged" interpretation of his own "Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose", which really started a craze for music that was ragged in "Ethiopian songs" as they were often called at that time(that was actually a very old minstrel music term, that had been around since the 1830's). From there, all of these younger performers began taking up Harney's act and creating their own spin on it, adding all sorts of new and interesting things to it. Burt Green was considered among one of the best Harney imitators around, which believe it or not, was stated in an obituary for Harney in 1938. What was special about Green was the fact that he not only took up the piano playing style, but he also did some of the dancing that Harney was so well-known for. 

His dances included things like these:

There were so many more things he did, these are only two of several more that were photographed in 1911. Green did these dances well, as he was known for it it seems, and he sometime parodied them as well. From what we can hear on those handful of records Green made from 1911 to 1915, it is certain that he was one of those early rag pianists, and took much of his style from those other famous early performers. 

There he is around 1908. 

From the few pictures I've seen of Burt Green, I can easily see him being one of Fred Hylands' publishing associates, and since he was one of Fred's income sources, he remained a valuable asset for him for many years, even after the publishing firm. They met probably not long after Fred first came to New York, as they worked at the same theater in 1897, and Fred was at one point the music director there, so it's inevitable that they became friends early on. Their friendship worked so well in many ways, as what they were missing in their lives were fulfilled with one another, and they were easily both just as strange and eccentric. As I've said before, Burt's looks made up for Fred's, and it helped that most of the stars they endorsed on their music covers would encounter Burt first rather than Fred. Fred came next. The first impressions Burt made must have been much better than if Fred were there during recording days. During the publishing firm, Burt still worked on 14th street, at Huber's museum, and occasionally filled in at Tony Pastor's theater for Mike Bernard. But as could be expected, Fred and Burt learned early on not to mess with Bernard, and Fred knew him best, since he was his director for a short but busy time. 
Bernard must have been one of the 14th street swells who was auditioned for Columbia in 1897, as they probably tried all of these famous theater accompanists. Knowing how much of a peach Bernard was, he must have hated the idea of being almost quite literally a slave to the singers and performers who entered the studio. Harney was not very versatile, and would probably done well on all of those coon songs, but everything else wouldn't work. Burt must have been one of their second decisions, but he probably turned the studio job down. Of all these theater pianists other than Hylands, Green would have been another great studio pianist, and since he was so much like Hylands, he  was probably considered something like "Freddy's double" if they needed another pianist for something. In reality, the one who took that place was Ed Issler, and Issler was not a show-biz insider like Hylands, which meant for an immediately different approach. 

While Burt worked at Huber's, he met many of the famous faces pictured on Hylands' music covers, including these two:

(Fun fact! Spencer probably wrote her name on this picture!)

(These both came from sheet music covers in my collection)

I'm sure you all recognise these faces, especially the first one. Green probably found them first, and soon went to Hylands and Spencer about his latest findings. Where Harlan came from in this case it is not certain, but Ada Jones was a regular at Huber's 14th Street museum, and it is almost certain that he met her there. Wherever of whomever introduced Harlan to Hylands, that friendship lasted a long time, and it was randomly revived in 1901 when Harlan began recording at Columbia. Other performers like Barney Fagan and Sallie Stembler must have been Hylands and Spencer findings. Burt working at Huber's not only got him an immense amount of money, but it earned Hylands and Spencer some very important friendships, such as the Ada Jones and Spencer duo that made hundreds of records from 1905 to 1913. 

No Billy Murray, you did not find her first. Damn lie...

Anyway, you understand what I'm getting at here, 14th street was a fantastic place to live and work in the late-1890's. There were more famous stage pianists who came from 14th street, but that comes later in the era, around the gaudy time of Tin Pan Alley, of which none of these early pianists were officially part of. These great pianists were too good to be part of that mess. 
Max Hoffmann was another one of these pianists I did not mention, as he was performing all over those theaters on 14th street in 1897-98, which logically works since he was such a famous "rag" pianist. Hoffmann remained pretty well-hidden considering that all of these other pianists were not really writing all of this music, but they were playing it in that same Hoffmann-like style. He remained hidden because he wasn't exactly a show-biz character out front, he was a sort of behind-the-scenes type, since he married a dancer who made up for this. His slim and pretty wife was scandalous enough to keep everyone's hands off of him, so they could scrutinize her. 

Something like this is what I mean. 
That's his wife in the center by the way. 
Funny to think that Hylands was director at the theater where this was taken. Hehe...
Hoffmann's marriage was brilliant, in so many ways, and it really is funny to think of it as a strategic show-biz marriage, far more than just the typical Hylands and Green marriages of pianist and singer. Chronologically, Hylands' marriage came first of all these famous pianist-singer ones, with the intention of an act being created from it. It wasn't as famous as the others that came after it, like Burt's marriage to Irene Franklin, but it was the same sort of thing. Fred married a singer who was not really well known, and she became a little more well-known after being married to Fred for ten years, since it took that long for him to finally put her in one of his Broadway shows. 

(that's her! on his music of course)
Took him long enough...
 It would be interesting if he dragged her in to Columbia to make some records. Probably didn't happen, but we can well assume that he considered it early on. We know that he was desperate for attention from the Columbia staff in 1898, and something like this was probably laughed upon by the long-time studio stars. It helps that he lived on 14th street in 1898, though he was not within walking distance of the studio. The bouts with cable cars were inevitable!



Anyhow, I'm just going to keep rambling on about all of this, so that's where I'll end it. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Digging into Leachman, and other Chicago Eccentricities

(Leachman, c.1898-1901, from Charlie Judkins)

Under the kind obliging of a friend of mine, I will do another post outlining Silas Leachman, including all of the new information on him that has been found within the last few years. 

When I mentioned that "treasure trove" of information in my last Burt Shepard post, I meant all of the basic background information on Leachman was made available to everyone, as before that, he a was very mysterious figure in the early recording business. It seemed someone did all of the census record findings and newspaper searching to find everything. Whomever that was, you cannot be thanked enough! Much like Burt Shepard, there's a lot about Leachman we will always wonder about, and will probably never know. Leachman was one of the few early recording stars who was genuinely a genius musically, and technically, which was very uncommon. You many argue that the Spencer's deserve that spot and title as well, but Leachman really takes the prize on this matter. 

It's really fascinating to consider that Leachman was not only just a local eccentric in Chicago, but he was also involved with the show business in the area, as he knew all the other famous eccentrics, and just others who passed by the city while he was there. Chicago seems more and more like the true Rag-Time melting pot as I study these encounters, as pretty much every one of the earliest Rag composers lived in Chicago at some point in the early or mid 1890's, which includes some of the popular New York performers as well, not just composers. Leachman just happened to be right in the middle of it, and luckily for him, all of these composers, performers and publishers found him interesting and took quick interest in him. It's not that strange to see a piece of Chicago music published in 1893-1896 mentioning Leachman on the cover, or anywhere in the music's pages. Local Chicago talking machine advertisements would mention him often as well. I have mentioned before in my Chicago posts that Leachman encountered "Bill" Krell, as my dad called him once(It was strange to hear someone call him that!). This was W. H. Krell:

Krell in 1895 

As I have come to notice recently, Krell actually had a Fred Hylands-like figure, which is strange to think, but if you really take a good look, you can notice it. Of course, at first glance, Krell looks like a handsome-faced, blond-haired German chap, it doesn't help that this is the only photograph there is of him, so far as I know.

A cartoon I did mocking several Chicago eccentrics of the mid-1890's, including Krell, Fred Hylands and Bert Morphy(who was also a famous cook!)

We Rag-Time freaks know him as the man who wrote "Missisippi Rag", which was the first tune to formally have "Rag" in the title, in the use of music terms that is. Krell was a young and new bandleader in 1892 and 1893 in Chicago, dearly wanting to get on the same terms as the other local military bands, since he had grown up among band competition of that sort. In 1893, he met a kind local eccentric named Silas Leachman, and wrote a tune dedicated to the former mayor of Chicago who had died during the Exposition of that year. Leachman must have sung this tune at performances by Krell's band in 1893 at the fair, in memory of the mayor. From there, Krell and Leachman had connections, and among the performers Krell endorsed, Leachman was probably one of them. Fred Hylands and Ben Harney were others among the long list of performers.  Leachman's connections earned him a lot of work with the local Chicago Talking machine company, and performing work in the city. Those thousands of brown waxes he made at home from 1892-1899 really give you a idea of how busy and demanded he was by Chicago record-buyers. The fact that he was mentioned more than once in The Phonoscope also tells you that he was a popular subject of gossip among the Columbia clan. He was not involved in all of their antics, but he was experimenting much like they were at the same time, in fact, he was doing things that none of the famous Columbia studio geniuses thought of, such as recording his voice in four different ranges and creating a quartette from only his voice(you can read the section from The Phonoscope here.)  
Other than being a famous recording star, Leachman was also just a local gambler and enthusiast. Among his local activities included owning a race horse, and being the epitome of a Kentucky dandy(of which this is personified in Roger Harding's hilarious 1901 recording here). He would dress in his best and go out to the races, being one of the warmest society swells at the track (Hmm, sounds like some other swells we know from Columbia...), with this fame and wealth from recording and horse races, he also became a policeman, for which he became even more well-known. We know that once he became chief of personnel for the Chicago police, that was when his recording career faded away. He was making all of those Victors when this new era in his life began, and when the pervious one was slowly ending. 

It's hard to believe that when he was making all of those Victors that just after then, he wanted all of that to be forgotten. Every one of his Victor's is amazing to hear, since they seemed to catch more of him than the few surviving brown waxes he made. It would seem that his brown waxes allowed him to be more wild, but the Victor's made him become someone else sometimes, though still keeping some of his prized humor from the brown wax era. His times at Victor were also where he could reconnect with some of his old Chicago eccentrics, like Fred Hylands, and Frank Banta(though Banta only came for a brief time in 1895, and maybe in passing before that while touring with Ossman). It is certain that he was able to reconnect with Hylands, as without a doubt, he was one of those strange and young "rag" pianists of the mid-1890's. I have always had the feeling that Leachman must have been hard to work with in the studio, and not really in the same ways that Arthur Collins and Henry Burr were. Leachman's issues in the studio came from how he remembered songs and recordings, as it's important to remember that he learned everything by ear. He was also constantly imitating other popular singers that the studio pianists would have known, which must have really been a kick to the pianists. Among the singers he imitated, I've heard Len Spencer, George Gaskin, Billy Golden and Arthur Collins. He was certainly good at imitating them, as Billy Golden was the hardest to imitate of all of them, and he did that often. 

I can tell that he heard a lot of Len Spencer. Heh! Who didn't? 

Many of his records imitate things that Spencer did only, and it helps that many of Leachman's Victor's were of Coon songs. Billy Golden is also another to consider that he heard often, as he did a recording of "Turkey in the Straw" in 1901, and he certainly took from Billy Golden's famous version of unknown origins. Here's Leachman's take on Billy Golden's famous specialty. It's funny that Banta's on piano here, as he would have known only how to accompany Golden's version, and would have been unsure of how Leachman wanted to do this. Leachman must have dissected every chorus of Golden's version to do this. Though as we know, the final verse was completely improvised on Leachman's Victor, which is extraordinary. That look on Banta's face when Leachman told him he was going to improvise the last verse must have been priceless. Leachman's ear must have been amazing, as he could probably hear things that most people couldn't, and could decipher Billy Golden's "Turkey in the Straw" better than anyone ever could. It has become a sort of pun how no one can fully transcribe Golden's lyrics to"Turkey in the Straw", and I think that Leachman could actually do it, so I wonder about how accurate Leachman's interpretation actually was. We will perhaps never know. Like I said, there's a lot about Leachman we will never know. 

It's frustrating how he wanted his whole recording thing to be forgotten, as that was why for so many years almost nothing was known about him,  and why much was probably lost since then. Leachman must have been like Len Spencer, complicated to the point of where none of us modern collectors will understand, and contradicting to many contemporary accounts. A lot of it doesn't make sense. With all of that about Leachman it's alright that he wasn't part of the Columbia clan, because if he had left Chicago earlier, he probably would have been, and that would have killed him, literally. 

Maybe we'll find more information on Leachman someday soon, and hopefully, some of his complicated nature will make more sense. That's not guaranteed though, much like Spencer's impossible personality. 

Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry about not posting for many days, staying on a single subject become hard to do within the last week or so. 

*Who ever you are viewing in Russia, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! Thanks for the great heap of views within the past week!*

Delving into Len Spencer

(that's Spencer well re-touched and dressed dandyish in 1890-92)

It could easily be noticed that Len Spencer is an important name as far as this blog goes, and sometimes it might seem redundant, of which I do apologize. This also goes for Fred Hylands as well, but there's a reason very specifically why I continue to mention Hylands, and his kind great-great nieces know why. I still cannot thank you girls enough for all that you have done to help with Fred and Etta!

Anyway, sorry to get sidetracked, Spencer is mentioned many times on this blog for a variety of reasons, and it truly does surprise me how little collectors speak of him, and the fact that there are some that do not like his records. Not particularly liking his records I can understand, but it does seem like a setback when speaking to a collector who thinks this. There's really a whole lot more to Spencer than just the large repertoire of all the most racist Coon songs of the late 1890's. That's why most people back away slowly after hearing one of his records, as they are the most shamelessly offensive of the early studio Coon song singers. Most of the time, they've got Arthur Collins' records beat by a mile. Once you get past the racist material, there's a whole lot of great irony that comes with Spencer. 

He wasn't particularly prejudiced at all, though sometimes those offensive notions creep in to some of his doings. He wasn't as much so as Fred Hylands, who did not enjoy working with George W. Johnson, and later started a Union only for whites, to keep out anyone of colour. Yes, I know, even with that deed, I still enjoy Hylands, as that sort of thing right there is what makes him more interesting and complicated, I certainly don't think it was the most considerate thing to do, but it's typical for the era nonetheless. Back to Spencer. We know that he was very kind and amiable to George W. Johnson, and helped him along in the last twenty or so years of his life, which was a genuinely good thing for him to do, as there really weren't any more studio stars or record managers who cared enough to do that for him. 

It can be assured that Spencer was good to women, as he grew up around not only a strong mother, but around very influential and revolutionary ladies of the 19th century, which would include Clara Barton, Susan B. Anthony, and Clara Woodhull(look her up of you don't know about her).With all of this enlightened teachings to treat women as equals on all levels, it can be insured that the women he married were lucky as far as men went in the 1880's and 1890's. 

He was first married at 18 to a lady named Margaret Kaiser, who was a few years older than him(unusual for the time!), and this was in 1885. He was, when married to Margaret, a young teacher at his father's business college. What he was teaching, I have no idea, but would love to know!(if you know, input your thoughts in the comments!) One thing is for sure however, he was unhappy as a teacher, and wasn't sure if that was what he wanted to spend his life doing. I've always thought it would be interesting to have him as a college teacher, just to truly see a side of him of which almost nothing has been documented. He was just beginning his family in 1887 when his first child was born, Sara Allen, one of five girls. By 1888, he was still working as a teacher, and occasionally caring for little Sara, but later that year, a new fascination came to the District of Columbia. This was the birth of the Columbia phonograph company. Since Len's father learned of this new revolutionary device, he had a single office dictation phonograph installed at the college, and once Len had learned of this, he went daily to experiment with the thing. He did not use the contraption exactly for what its intended use was, he saw if he could record his voice, and also record various things that made interesting sounds. Soon afterward, his father found out about this, and probably got very cross with him, as he wasn't really doing his job as a teacher anymore, or at least by this time not very well. In late-1889, he was finally reluctantly dropped by his father from the teaching position, as by then, he was beginning to make records for the local Columbia company, taking parts and getting repairs from them for recording on his own. It took until 1890 for his name to begin showing up in Columbia catalogs, and by then, he was officially a Columbia recording artist. I would love to know what his wife thought of this strange and immediate transition, as she was probably not really sure if this new career would work since it was part of such a young new business. 

When thinking chronologically with Spencer, 1891 was one of the hardest years for him, as this was the most important transition year in his life. He was already working for Columbia as we know, but his regular record-making was cut short by the death of his father, which meant that the will and college headmaster position had to go to Len, but we know that he only took some of the money and ran, without wanting to be college headmaster. To only complicate the year even more, his wife caught smallpox, and not long afterward, his little Sara did as well. While caring for them, he couldn't go out to fulfill his duties at Columbia. By the middle of that year, his wife and daughter had both died, which left him broken and unsure of what to do next. As could be guessed, he went right back to working at Columbia, but did not remarry until the middle of 1892. 

His second marriage is one that was very unusual for the time period, and just odd in general. He married Elizabeth Norris in mid-1892, but soon afterward, he split with her. Perhaps we will never know why this happened, and it continues to perplex me. From 1892 to 1895, he was a regular studio worker, doing announcements, sound effects, and making his own records occasionally. He remained single for a few more years, until eventually re-marrying Elizabeth. Very strange indeed.  This marriage is where the two Spencer daughters came from, the ones that were later interviewed by Jim Walsh. 

With all of this background, it makes Spencer very interesting, and it set up much of his almost bi-polar means in situations we read about him from later. What makes Spencer truly like the subject of a period novel is how strange and polarizing he was outside the studios. Most of the articles we read seem really fun and playful, painting a picture of a thrill-seeking, complicated, and humorous character as Spencer. A good example of this is that hilarious 1898 tale of the trolley car crash on Broadway:

I think you could guess that this came from The Phonoscope. 

Wow! Every time I read this it still makes me laugh. I bet that his friends standing outside the studio doors ran down the street once they heard something, that's funny to imagine also(because it would probably include Steve Porter, Russell Hunting and Fred Hylands...). The reference in this section above to the piano flipping over on him was also written of in and earlier edition of The Phonoscope:

Love it every time. 
Like I've said before, that was why Columbia's piano sounded awful for several months of 1897. Thanks Len! 
It's funny how he didn't allow anyone to help him out when moving the piano, as I would think that some of the studio workers would have offered help, but of course, he objected to the logical idea, and made the piano tell him the same. Without knowing much of his personality, these two sections above really say a whole lot about him, and that the ways that I describe him on this blog are not just guesses. A better picture has been painted of Spencer than of Fred Hylands, I can tell you that much. With Hylands, we've really only got his publishing firm advertisement from 1899 and his self-loathing comment from 1898:

Oh sigh, you boys work me too much...

Spencer must have found that hilarious, thinking of his sense of humor from those auction records, and of course that cable car incident. But I hope you can see now why Spencer and Hylands not only got along musically. It's funny, first Spencer was a good friend of Edward Issler, and it remained a strong friendship until Hylands came along and stole Len's heart and ears. 



If there was any one of these early recording stars to write a book on, it would have to be Spencer, and I know that might sound strange coming from the Fred Hylands freak, but it's true. Whether you like him or not, he did the most for the early recording business than any of the other early studio stars. Sure, you can not like that Spencer was an alcoholic, probably did drugs of some kind, got into fights, caught some kind of venereal disease, and did other usually-considered-despicable things, but all of those things make him the most complicated and ever-interesting of these widely-forgotten studio stars. 

Keep listening out there! 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Re-visiting the Early studio rules

It has been a long while since I have specifically spoken of the loose studio rules of the 1890's recording business. This fascinating and very understudied subcategory of 1890's recording has always been kicked aside from how shameful many of the oldest surviving studio stars behaved when speaking of this. Someone like Dan Quinn would have been infamous for shunning all of his old colleagues for their awful drinking habits, though he was part of it to some extent. He did not drink, but he did not offer to help any of his suffering friends.

 A cartoon I did mocking Quinn's temperance, and Hylands' carelessness. 

Of course, to Quinn, none of that mattered when Hylands was getting him much more profits from selling sheet music with his picture on it. With all of this sin, to Quinn's judgement, the studios were rife with impropriety, from the day that Russell Hunting decided to make those smut cylinders in 1892. It was clear that Columbia was a much more free, yet somewhat indecent place compared to the proper and tightly restricted Edison company. 

Quinn and J. J. Fisher must have found Edison a much more properly run place to work and make records than Columbia, as there was no drinking allowed, and certainly no drugs of any kind as well. It helps that at Edison their studio pianists had good intentions and habits. The Rag-Time pianist even had the kindest demeanor and best habits, and that is a real thing! Columbia was the place for the progressives and hustlers to work, under free and democratic conditions that allowed any means of doing so. Edison was for those who wanted a clean and good place to work overall, where the singers and performers were not integrated into the staff and management. There's a reason that Edison cylinders all sound the same to some extent. 

Columbia was where the genius misfits worked, from their beginning, that was how it was. It was much like how Berliner was at the same time. In the mid-1890's, Berliner was an interesting place to work, as Fred Gaisberg was able to tell the tales of working there in his writings for all of us to later read. He saw pretty much everything that we know about the inner workings of early Berliner. Now to refer back to the title of this post, Gaisberg had to once deal with this chap:

George Graham. 
 Graham was the infamous drunk that those young Berliner team workers got a big laugh out of when he made records in 1895-96. Gaisberg once described that he and the other young Berliner staff had to make a stand for him when he made records, since he would often get so drunk that he couldn't stand straight. It was all fun and games for the Berliner team, as dealing with him was much more fun than it needed to be. Of course, Gaisberg found this despicable, as he was against having the artists drink in studios, but his colleagues couldn't help but enjoy his shenanigans. 
You can hear a few of his great records here.
He's fascinating to listen to, regardless of the often slurred and hard-to-understand statements and words. Gaisberg was one of those early studio people who found drinking in studios to be shameful to the company's reputation, even though the fact would not have been spread anyway, he just did not like it one bit. It was a good thing that Gaisberg was working at Berliner while the Columbia people were becoming that elite group in 1897, and especially when Fred Hylands came in. 

Columbia's drinking rules were almost non-existent in the late-1890's, as the management trusted their studio stars enough to allow drinking in their main studio rooms. As can be expected, there were the studio stars who drank most every time they came in the studio, and there were those who didn't do so nearly at all. As can be guessed, one of the worst drinkers after the infamous George Graham, was...

Len Spencer.
There aren't really many examples of formal writings about his drinking, but there are hints of it when looking through The Phonoscope, as he was one of the most frequently mentioned studio stars there. One of the best hints of this was a section from the August 1898 issue of you know what:

Hmm. That's a good hint mister Hunting. I wonder if it's the same watch that we can see the top of the chain in the picture of him above...
We know that Spencer drank, regardless of reading about it or not, as his records oftentimes show for it, if you're listening close enough that is. I have heard many of Spencer's great brown waxes from 1897-1901, and they never fail to please, no matter what the tune be. Some are better than others as can be expected from him, and much of this is due to his studio drinking. He was just getting started with doing this by 1896 and 1897, but when Hylands came in, well, it was just going to get worse from there. Since Hylands had such a high alcohol tolerance(durr, the man was over six feet tall and three hundred pounds...), the drinking with him was almost daily when he came to the studio. Oftentimes, the good thing about Hylands was that when he drank, it took a while for things to start getting weird in his playing and speech, not that his speech wasn't already hard to understand...  
One good example of how strange his playing could get is his mid-1899 take of "Turkey in the Straw" with Billy Golden. It is very strange, quick, and far too complicated for most ear players to understand. It's not tame at all, as I have heard some recordings he made in 1899 with some of his publishing firm friends that sound completely sane and are much less scattered than the one listed in the link. His playing still got weird even before 1899 when he was the leader of Hylands Spencer and Yeager, as you can hear his weird and very unsteady playing on most of George W. Johnson's records from 1898 to 1900, including this one here, and also on this one.  It's strange, I have heard a few Dan Quinn Columbia records from 1898-1900 where Hylands sounds drunk, but of course Quinn isn't, and that is very strange to some extent, as I would think that Quinn(according to his letters from the 1930's) would have demanded that Hylands not drink when he made records, and would have found it despicable, but I guess not. But then again, I have also heard records where Hylands sounds just fine behind Quinn, not(technically)weird or unsteady. 
Like I've told my friend Ryan Wishner, sometimes Hylands was not exactly harmonically right in the head, which always makes for interesting listening, but many of his style characteristics in this sense were not common for the time period.  This was not helped when he drank in the studios. 

A good example of all three of the performers being pretty tipsy on is one that I have shared before for this very purpose, but it always gets the point across. Here's Spencer and Harding's "Larboard Watch" from 1899, with Hylands of course. This one always gets the point, as the first thing to notice is Spencer's announcement, which I have heard a few times sounding like it does on this cylinder. It's certainly not his more swift and lively announcements that we can hear on many of those Columbia orchestra recordings from the same time, such as on this one here from 1897. The announcement on the "Larboard Watch" cylinder reminds me a little of his on this one here. 

And yes, back to the Spencer and Harding cylinder, Harding drank indeed, as being one of Hylands' close publishing associates wouldn't allow for being Mr. Temperance like Quinn. Hylands and Harding were also good composer friends in 1898 to 1901, as we know of Harding's venture into being a composer was a much talked of subject among the "Columbia Clan" and the other record company staffs around in that period. Such as this pretty piece of music:

Hylands also published this in 1899, but I cannot seem to find his publication of it. This is from a little bit later. Harding was a prominent member under Hylands' rule of the publishing firm, so it's no surprise to hear him sing not very well with Spencer on a Columbia from around the time that the firm began. He was also the one who opened that phonograph parlor in 1897 to later have gatherings there with all the Columbia stars, so Harding was another one of those studio drinkers. Of course, he couldn't drink as much as Spencer and Hylands because he was so much smaller than they were.
A recording I would love to use in proving this point on Spencer's part is his 1899 recording of "Warmest Baby in the Bunch", but I can't do that. I will say, however, that that cylinder is a fantastic example of Hylands and Spencer's great musical understanding, but also a great example of what they both sounded like when very tipsy, as that is the most extreme of the exampled I have heard as far as Spencer and Hylands go. Hylands gets all weird and pushy with the rhythm, but the problem is that Spencer isn't much better in that aspect. It's kind of a mess, but it sounds fine if you're not really nitpicking everything on the record. It's becomes more interesting when you're doing that though. The record is a mess, but it has a lot of strange aspects to the piano playing that Hylands didn't usually play, whether drunk or sober. Since this was all true in Columbia's late-1890's studio, it makes listening much more interesting for those who have ears that can hear those mistakes and off-key singing. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Digging into the Workings of Columbia(1892-1901)

(Spencer advertising his Columbia devotion, The Phonoscope March, 1898)

and the very address that Spencer advertises from around the same month and year. 

It has been stated before that the majority of collectors out there brush Columbia aside from the other record companies in study, since their ledgers are gone, and there's almost nothing set in stone from this fact. Almost nothing can be found in the LOC from Columbia's late-1890's setup at 27th and Broadway, and pretty much everywhere else as well. It's a lost cause to most collectors, but we need to make it so that this isn't so, as from what is left, it was a very complicated system that had many layers to its management. 


Famed Legal Invincibility

Whenever a legal battle came over the horizon for Columbia, that was when their strongest weapons were set up. Their lawyers and attorneys were among the best that any bad-luck-stricken company could ever dream of. Since the company began on the intention of keeping themselves safe in the courtrooms, they intended to have this remain, and how they did. From the legal battles in their beginning, they were determined to keep only the best legal staff, and to also govern the affairs of their talent staff. This especially became important as the recording stars were beginning to run off and start businesses of their own in 1897, 1898, and 1899. Pretty much every one of these studio artists had one of the attorneys on their side, to manage their out-of-studio affairs. For example, Fred Hylands' attorney was Rollin Wooster, the infamous silent man in the George W. Johnson vs. The people case of late-1899. Since Fred had no experience in law, Rollin was the one who took care of all of that, as well as Len Spencer, who had been taught enough law to understand the inner workings  from his father and other law professors at their family's Business college.  Every one of these businesses begun by the studio performers had a legal advisor of some kind. Since Hylands Spencer and Yeager was such a large operation, it needed Rollin Wooster to keep the thing running well, and this firm was after all, an extension of Columbia's so-called "clan". The prime era of their legal invincibility ended when Master Edward Easton died, as he was not only the founder, he was the man who kept the legal aspect of their business the way that it was for so many years. The whole prime of Columbia ended at Easton's death, also since many of the earliest staff members were dying off by that time as well. 


The "Clan" (1892-1902)

This so-called "clan" was founded in 1892 by Russell Hunting, the infamous man of smut in the early recording business. Hunting was a progressive, the most vocal one of all the early Columbia staff, and unintentionally created a small sort of club of performers and technicians that was centered around Columbia's management. This group was, in its beginning, a clan of technicians who were a group in the first place to invent new and more efficient means of recording, and later film. This groups looked very different when it began, and it was a force for good in the studios, which is why Dan Quinn was part of it, as we know about his "good" Christian views. The "clan" of Columbia staff members faded away by 1896, as that was one of two painful transition years for Columbia. It mainly was this way for the clan since their leader, Russ Hunting, went on trial and was thrown in prison for his smut cylinders in the middle of that year. It took until the middle of 1897 for the clan to re-boot themselves by purging old members and bringing in new ones. They broke up for a brief period when Hunting was in prison, but regrouped when The Phonoscope was started in November and December of that year. Hunting was still their leader in 1897, and new members entered in that year, such as Steve Porter and Roger Harding, both of which would become important members later on. By the later months of 1897, this clan was becoming something that it wasn't in the beginning, a force for necessary good. Since more of the technicians and electricians were being thrown out of the clan by this time, it was becoming an exclusive club of elites rather than inventors and studio geniuses. With Steve Porter's yacht races, Roger Harding's phonograph parlor, the Universal Phonograph company, it was without a doubt that this clan was becoming something that the founder did not intend for to be. By early 1898, this group was shaken by a new member, the warmest there was after Len Spencer owned that spot since 1895. This was Fred Hylands. He was more consuming of a member than Hunting could ever have been. After the initiation of Hylands in early 1898, Hunting's reputation as the leader of this clan was fading, even though he was still a very popular member by that time. Spencer was beginning to take this spot, since Hunting was making more time for writing in The Phonoscope and for many more business affairs with his records. With Spencer taking Hunting's place, this officially changed the purpose of this group, as it was certainly no longer the intended force for good. It was in 1898 that the exhibitions took place and further established an elite class that was Columbia's talent staff. With more recognition from the record-buyers, this meant that the clan members could go off and enjoy the more money they were being paid. This allowed for more Yacht gatherings hosted by Steve Porter, parlor parties from Roger Harding, and gatherings at the Waldorf hosted by Master Easton himself.  It took until early 1899 for Fred Hylands to grab everyone, so they were insured that he was the leader of the clan. With the creation of "The Knickerbockers" publishing firm, Hylands' intentions were clear. This firm did not last as we know, but the next one he started from the embers of that one was what prompted corruption and Hylands' leadership of the clan. Hylands Spencer and Yeager, or the clan in this case, was a force for selling Hylands' music, and the music of the studio artists as well, which is a good thing in itself, but Hylands and Spencer being the ones running it did not exactly promote the most good. Their records made during this period are all that need to explain this fact. Everyone involved in this firm was associated daily with Hylands, and he was the somewhat-bipolar circus master at this time, who essentially ran all the music coming in and out at Columbia, which gave him high power over the record talent. Since Burt Green was his sideman, the Rag-Time was inevitable and, to a point, overwhelming. With all the gatherings, wealth, drinking, smoking, and everything else, this firm collapsed by November of 1900, leaving Fred almost broke, the clan in pieces, and the leaders bitter toward each other. Russell Hunting was long gone out in Europe, and could not at all help to repair the damages that Hylands and Spencer caused to the clan. Even if all the members still occasionally made records together after November 1900, it was clear that this group was no more by the beginning of the moulded cylinder era, and the end of the brown wax era. The clan was no more as the newer artists came along in 1902 and 1903, such as Billy Murray, Arthur Collins, Fred Van Eps, and even Ada Jones.  





The Management(1889-1905)

From their beginning, Columbia's management was an interesting mix of non-musical born leaders.  After Columbia got settled in 1889, their first studio manager was a man who looked like this: 

That, is Frank Dorian. 
He was their first studio manager and paymaster, who was a record technician and blunt leader, in the Columbia tradition. He was part of a clan of three brothers who ran different aspects of early Columbia, though he was the Dorian with the highest position for the longest time. His term as manager was a turbulent time, as he was studio manager during their painful transition year of 1896 and very early 1897. He left his position right in the middle of their big transition, as in March 1897, he was officially given the job as the manager of Columbia's new Paris office. With him gone from 27th and Broadway, a new face was elected as studio manager... ... 

One of the Emerson brothers, in this case, Victor Hugo. 

Just like the previous studio manager, Victor was part of a clan of brothers who were involved in different aspects of Columbia. This time, there were four of them: Ralph, Clyde, Victor, and George. Clyde, Victor and George were the ones who took Columbia by storm in the early 1890's with their technical genius. Victor particularly shone as a bright young man to Columbia clan leader Russell Hunting. From there, Vic Emerson rose up the ladder of management at Columbia, until 1897, when he was made their studio manager succeeding Frank Dorian. He quickly became someone that the studio stars did not like. As to those who had worked with him before knew that he was really only good for being a studio engineer and fix-it man. He and Georgie Emerson(as they called his younger brother) took turns being the engineer in the studio and just being present to manage daily recording activity. Emerson was not preferred by the Columbia staff, even if he was praised so highly often in The Phonoscope, they still did not enjoy how he ran that studio. His demanding and illogical commands were impossible for some of the studio workers to fulfill. The way he ran the studio made the artists kick him out of the clan in the first place, as it was doing injustice to many of the staff members. He was the manager of Columbia in the unstable times of the George W. Johnson trial, and was the man who began that immense pit of money for the innocence of Johnson, which did work with all of the great legal people Columbia had at the time. He also witnessed all of Hylands Spencer and Yeager, thought he only watched from a high perch, not really being able to fully understand under-the-table deals going on with Spencer and Hylands. He knew of that venture just as a publishing firm begun by their everyday Rag-Time studio pianist, nothing more.  After the fall of the firm, he had the Climax/Zon-O-phone/Victor affair of the next year to deal with, which almost got everyone at Columbia thrown out of the record business...again. It was amazing that after this feud, Emerson got through all-right, and still remained to manage some recording sessions, still being hated by many of the regulars at Columbia. Around 1905, he disappeared from much of Columbia's activity, even though he was still somewhere close to them, as there were some artists after 1902 who recalled him being in the studio on occasion, throwing around his demanding comments. After that, the classic dynasties of Columbia management ended. As has been explained before, Columbia's management was the reason that they had such an "anything goes" atmosphere in their studio for so many years. Edward Easton was the first of their management to promote this democratic atmosphere, and since he ran the entire thing, this mindset spread to all aspects of Columbia. The volunteering was encouraged, and surprisingly, free enterprise of the studio talent was as well, which is why we see all of these small record businesses begun by the studio stars. None of that was so at Edison. 



I would love to do a section on their ledgers... ... but we know why that won't happen. 

Hope you enjoyed this!