A perfect caricature and more slowed down transfers

We begin to-day's post with a caricature.

Who's that freakishly tall weirdo with the music?

IT'S FRED HYLANDS!

This morning, Charlie Judkins sent me this fantastic cartoon from Judge magazine mocking much of the Union work that Hylands did, and other things of that sort, as he stated that the cartoonist, Art Young, was a prominent leader among the new unions that were sprouting up in New York from 1902 to 1910, and it seems that he at some point encountered Hylands as one of the blunt leaders of the White Rats Union. 

Everything about the caricature is right! Everything about Hylands there is exhibited at its best, and makes it just as funny as it needs to be. The real thing that made me convinced that this was Hylands is the fact that he's wearing the costume in this picture:

Yes indeed. 

This caricature exhibits everything that I do when I make fun of how weird he was! And yes, finally a way to at last end the glasses debate. 

This cartoon will be used as a final addition to my seminar on Hylands for next month.

Many of these newly slowed down transfers that Ryan Wishner and I have been working on are being uploaded to the Internet Archive, for all to access, and with that, I will share some of the latest additions to the collection of these that he and I are amassing in our files. The first two files that will be shared are two different recordings of the same song by Len Spencer. The older take is is terrible shape, but the first half of the cylinder can be heard somewhat well, though I would advise to give up on the second part, because it's such a bad and messy transfer. It's by far the most interesting version I've heard of the song though, regardless of the awful mess of mold. 
Here is the older take of "My Gal is a High Born Lady":
https://archive.org/details/MyGalIsAHighBornLadywHylandsc1897
It's awfully messy, but it's a genuinely interesting take as far as these records go. It almost sounds like it's from 1897, but really can't be that early because of the prominent syncopation, and that was almost nonexistent on Columbia records from 1896-1897(it was there, but not as lumbering and powerful as when Hylands was there). It sounds like a Columbia record more than anything else, but it doesn't help that Spencer says not any company name in the announcement. In fact, it sounds like those pirated Columbia records from 1897-1899, and since no company is announced, that's likely. Also, it must be noted that Spencer's singing sounds like it does when he was tipsy, as it's not very in tune with the piano, and the dialect is over-exaggerated(in the best possible way!), which are both aspects of his singing in that state. It's a great comparison of different takes to this later version here:
https://archive.org/details/LenSpencerMyGalisaHighbornLady1898
They are completely different from each other, yet they are the same song by the same singer, and likely the same pianist believe it or not. This record also sounds like Spencer's a little tipsy(which is great!) but really as much so as the older take, his pitch is much better on this take, in fact, it actually very good compared to other records of his. Of course like most Hylands and Spencer records, these two are great examples of early Rag-Time. 

The next one is a record by:

and 

Frank P. Banta! 
(still love that look on his face)
This record has been on the Internet Archive for many years, and I have heard it so many times, really hoping to hear it at the correct speed sometime, and now it's so!
Here you go:
https://archive.org/details/MyMoneyNeverGivesOutwBanta1902
It's now at an even, slightly flat A flat, which is rather normal for a recording of  the era. Banta's playing on this record is phenomenal, with a good variety of syncopation types and characteristics, with that equalling and Rag-Time recording of Collins with Hylands from the same time. This record is just as good as this 1898 cylinder by Collins and Banta:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8650
Banta was such a great Rag-Time pianist, though he was not as natural to the style as Hylands. There are times where Banta sounds just a good as Hylands, such as the record just above, and this one here(this record is among the top examples of brown wax Rag-Time out there). 

This next one is by

Dan Quinn! 
In fact, the image just above of him was taken around the same time that this recording was made. This is one that has had time to circulate around Youtube and the internet in general, but this is the superior transfer of this record from David Gionannoni's fantastic Grammy winning CD Dan W. Quinn, the King of Comic Singers, of which I have mentioned often on this blog, as it is a phenomenal CD with even better liner notes to accompany. Here's the best transfer out there of Quinn and Gaisberg's November 3, 1895 Berliner of "The Streets of Cairo":
https://archive.org/details/TheStreetsOfCairobyQuinnandGaisberg1895
I have used this record before to illustrate points related to Quinn's accidental involvement in the "Little Egypt" scandal of later 1896, as this is the song that really caught the essence of the "Hoochie Koochie" craze. It's a fantastic example of what Berliner record sounded like before their more commercial operation began in 1897, when each one was made with special care, and when it was essentially a family run business, with Mr. Berliner and a bunch of teenage boys running the studio to keep everything in line. 

This next one is also by Quinn, but this time he's with his "man crush" Frank P. Banta. It's one that didn't need that much slowing down, but the bass was turned all the way up and slowed down ever so slightly to turn out great! 
Here's Quinn's famous 1902 recording of "More Work for the Undertaker". If you listen to the original take, of which you can hear in this link here, it's a very slight change like that that will make such an immense difference. I have always envisioned this record sounding the way it does on the newly slowed down transfer, and now I won't listen to it any other way, since it sounds so dark, pure, and natural; as these recordings were supposed to sound. 

The final recording to exhibit in this post is the edited version of Johnson and Issler's 1891 cylinder of "The Whistling Coon", which sounds so much better now that it's slower, and all of the syncopation is very well heard and can be deciphered. Here you go:
https://archive.org/details/GeorgeWJohnsonWhistlingCoonIssler1891

It sounds just as it's supposed to now. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Len Spencer's relationship with Johnson, and Pathe records

The subject addressed in the title of this post is something that is rather contradictory once digging into the matter. We know very well of Len Spencer's friendship with George W. Johnson, and somewhat how complicated and strange it was compared to other famous relationships between black and white. 

Around the time when Spencer looked like this is when he "discovered" Johnson's talent. Though, according to one newspaper source I read recently, it stated that George Gaskin first "discovered" Johnson's talent and recognised his potential, and this would have been in 1891, when he made his first batch of records for Edison. Gaskin may have seen Johnson's talent first, but what did he do about it? Just had him make records, and that was all. Gaskin didn't step nearly as far across the color line as Spencer did. Spencer hopped over that line many times when working with Johnson, more so than the other Columbia staff. Spencer's intentions with Johnson were immediately the same as Gaskin's, but in the long term, they seemed more like that of a friendship than just a talent scout for Johnson. Spencer soon became an advisor and kind source of help for Johnson's hard luck, such as his domestic woes. 

At the beginning of their friendship, Spencer helped Johnson along with earning a decent amount of money from the minstrel records that they made, paying him just as much as the other recording stars on the records. That amount cannot be traced, but the profits from these records were shared equally with everyone, including Johnson. Of course, their friendship had time to build from 1894 to 1898, and that's just what it did. By 1898. Spencer knew Johnson's mannerisms, habits, and mindset, all of which are still debated to-day, as the murder trial questioned Johnson's true innocence. Spencer's good side must have found Johnson's single lifestyle despicable, but didn't want to interfere with his personal affairs. His so-called "bad' side would have wanted to go out and drink or gamble with Johnson, and would have well accepted his ways, and wouldn't have minded the fact that he beat his common-law wife. (I am only using the two sides of Spencer here because of his contradicting ways that are perhaps exhibited in every section I've read on him). By the time he was first put on trial in 1898, Spencer must have become a little suspicious of Johnson's means, thought before that, he must have had some notion of this. 

Keep in mind that the shock that struck the Columbia staff in October 1899 wasn't exactly that Johnson did this, is was more of the fact that they had to manage the trial in the months ahead, and that they would have to gather a defense team. 

Of course, since it was Columbia mediating this defense team, there was seemingly no way that Johnson could be found guilty, considering Columbia's luck and status in court battles. Since Fred Hylands was so confident with himself and the publishing firm, he threw in Rollin Wooster, of which I don't need to explain for the thirtieth time. Since Spencer and Hylands were working together in the publishing firm, they had to work together in the defense, dodging every possible way they could to not have to testify before the jury. They didn't of course, none of Johnson's close friends did, which is strange, and a little frustrating to us record historians. If there was anyone who would have testified but didn't, that would have been Spencer. Hylands would have been good too, since he had a studio relationship with Johnson, though some of the positive things he would have said would be lies. Hylands would have had to scramble for things to say. That would have been funny, but very awkward for Columbia's "perfect" defense team. Spencer threw in money for the defense team, however much money out of $2,100 collected by Vic and Georgie Emerson. Remember that Hylands' publishing firm was distracting everyone at Columbia when word was spread about Johnson murdering his common-law wife. Spencer was determined to let this pass, as awful as a situation it was. 
Once it did, Hylands and Spencer were bitter toward one another; Hylands  almost broke, and Spencer left without a scratch. Johnson was still popular, and making records under Spencer's obliging, to earn him more money(though it seemed he was not being paid as much by this time as some sources state oddly enough). Spencer didn't let go of his relationship with Johnson, even after the horrid stress and strain of the trial. He calmed down, and began a new endeavor in 1904, a Lyceum(or a vaudeville theater of a sort). This new venture was a big step away from his recording career, and in a way kind of a middle finger to Hylands' leadership and musical directing skills(that's what he was doing by 1904 and 1905). Like everything that these recording stars began outside of their record companies, the Lyceum had problems when it got started, such as legal troubles, performers, and everything else that goes into herding the cats that are stage performers. It was in September 1904 that the papers reported a fight behind the curtain with Spencer, his fellow manager, and one of his performers. It was in the early days of the Lyceum that Spencer had Johnson as his doorman, all dressed up in a military costume to greet people at the door to the Crystal Theater(which was at Union Square!).  That would have been a really interesting, yet somewhat depressing thing to see if I had come up to that door. Spencer stated that he paid Johnson fairly for a little while, until he realised that doing that wasn't really a good idea(AND NO, IT'S NOT JUST BECAUSE HE WAS BLACK) because Johnson would be gone for a little while if he gave him too much money, since he would drink away all that money in that time. Spencer's good side was coming through with that matter, as he wanted his employees to be there when he needed them, but eventually, Spencer let Johnson go from his position. Though oddly enough, Spencer still allowed him to live at the Lyceum. Johnson lived under Spencer's "radar" so to speak until early 1914, when he was sent off to a hospital, only to die there the next day.

It took a few days for word of Johnson's death to reach Spencer, and some of the high management at the Lyceum. When it did, all of Spencer's guilt with Johnson was thrown right before him. This is clear from the accounts that survive describing Spencer when this news got to him. The regrets must have been overwhelming for him, probably completely setting aside the racial factors involved in their friendship. As it has been said before on this blog, Spencer would really be the one of these strange characters to write a book on, and this is just one of those many reasons why this is so. This entire tale of Johnson working with Spencer, or vice versa, gives a very different view than the traditionally taught history lessons of race relations in the nineteenth century. It's something that should at least be noted in books about black vaudeville and stage performance, since this is such a unique story compared to those of Williams and Walker, or the extraordinary James Reese Europe. 




Now to enter in a different subject, the Pathe record company. In the period of about 1908 to the early 1920's, Pathe was run by a familiar face of the earliest days of recording:

Yes indeed, my favourite of the earliest recording stars. 

Hunting's genius lasted far beyond his creation of the pantograph machine in 1892 and thousands of crass recordings in the mid-1890's. When he sailed off for Europe in late-1898, he was determined to start with a fresh slate, and become known to people who knew nothing of his past experiences. He was immediately liked in England, and around 1902, he trekked to France, where the Pathe Feres company was making cylinders, as well as the outpost for Columbia's Paris headquarters, where his old friend(manager more or less) Frank Dorian

was waiting for him. 
Once Hunting reacquainted with all of the old friends at the Paris outpost for Columbia, he decided to take up another neighboring company--Pathe. He was taken in to the community at the relatively small Pathe company rather quick, because they must have found his past in America an absolute riot, and he fit in very well with the progressive culture of the French city dwellers. By 1906, he was practically running Pathe, after helping out Steve Porter at Nicole in England and running much of the engineer work at Edison bell in 1903(that's why he announces many of the records made for them in 1902 and 1903). Pathe was really his project and main commitment. He began the idea of the center start records that many collectors run across in batches of early Pathe records, and promoted the idea of vertical cut records, since he must have heard about the patent battles that were going on back home at the main Columbia headquarters. He tried to avoid that as much as possible, and it certainly helped that he had the Atlantic Ocean to separate him from the old boys of the clan back home. By the early 1910's, he had decided to move Pathe's operation back to the U.S., and in 1914 sent back to the U.S. for the first time in 16 years. After being regaled with stories from the remaining clan members, probably including Len Spencer and Victor Emerson, he set up Pathe's operations in New York, and began anew for the hundredth time. His logic with making Pathe records was genius, and combined new with old technology, something that no one had done before. he had the original masters recorded on brown wax, with the old recording format he was accustomed to from the late-1890's.He used the setup that was have seen in a certain picture from his own The Phonoscope:

Yes, like that. 
This was the format he used for recording masters, with possibly a few alternate takes just for some variation of the records sold. The masters were then dubbed or pantographed somehow, and this means of copying is debated, since the transfers of the copies were so sharp and clear, like an original brown wax master, no one really knows what Hunting did. Whatever he did, he made Pathe records the best sounding recordings of the acoustic era, and I would be willing to argue that, because in the teen's, recordmaking became more of a business than an art form and process like it was in the 1890's. It was no longer experimental, so making records was a mass production business by the 1910's, and therefore meant a general drop in quality of recordings. Hunting refused to let Pathe become one of those companies. He did just what he loved to do, invent, and his method of listening to and playing Pathe records was wholly unique and ingenious. The idea of using a Sapphire ball instead of a needle to listen to the records made the records not only sound better, but were meant to last over a century. It seems Hunting was really the first one of these recording stars to have the notion that his records would be listened to generations after he was long gone. 

Think about that for a moment. At the back of his mind, he knew his voice would still be heard a century after the records were made. Now that's thinking ahead! Most of the early recording stars never thought of this, but Hunting not only knew it, but also wanted this to happen, which is absolutely amazing. 

He never ceases to amaze me. 

Really take some listens to your (pre-1920) Pathe records out there! Listen to them slower than 80 rpm, because recently I learned that the "played at 80 revolutions" on these Pathe records is actually just mush. You're especially in luck if you've got a Pathe machine! 






Before I end this post, I must set something straight about a picture I have used on this blog before. That picture of the supposed "Hylands" lady on one one of Fred Hylands' 1899 sheet music covers:

Well, that's not his wife Marie. 

That's originally who I had assumed this was, but actually, it's Fred's sister Etta! The only way that I caught this is from glancing back over the image of Fred's niece "Little Ethel":

She looks almost exactly like the lady on the Hylands music(and a whole lot like uncle Freddy) so it just had to be Etta. So as of now, we are still awaiting for the discovery of a picture of Fred's supposedly lovely wife Marie. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Digging into Ed Issler, and directly imitating the black singers

Most collectors of the earliest commercial band recordings certainly have heard of Edward Issler, since his parlor orchestra led the business of recording small studio orchestras for the first five years of the 1890's. Issler was not only the best overall musicians of the earliest studio pianists, he was the best at knowing how to balance instruments and balancing time and energy when it came to making round after round. he is a largely forgotten figure, despite his obvious mark on the amount of records made from 1889 to 1895. Not much of anything was known on him for fifty or sixty years, not knowing how long he had been dead for, or anything else really. It took until just a few months ago for all the essential information on him to be at last found, I am still trying to correct all the bios and articles that speak of Issler with this new information. 

For decades, it was assumed that Issler died in 1900, or sometime shortly after that. Since no one could dig up anything on him after his recording career supposedly ended(I don't think it ended there), most had assumed that looking for him in public records and such was a dead end. How they were damn wrong!
 Issler probably remained at Columbia a little bit after 1900, since thinking of the Hylands logic, they wouldn't just drop him after just a year of working there! Since Issler was the most valuable studio musician at the time, and he wasn't nearly as busy outside of the studio as Hylands, and remember, there would have been at least two different rooms of music going on at any given time at Columbia. 

Issler's talents and musical excellence was not paralleled in any recording studio at that time. Banta couldn't have surpassed Issler's abilities even with all of Banta's natural talent and smarts. Something about Issler's musical upbringing gave him the superior abilities he had, of course, that remains unknown, since his musical background will perhaps never be known, and none of that unfortunately was dug up amid the new findings on him. It has been known for decades, and was reassured in census records, that he was a music teacher before he became a bandleader in the mid-1880's or so. His background other than that is forgotten, but he was certainly gifted. The one thing about his playing that sets him apart from all of the other piano accompaniment era(1889-1905) pianists is his fantastic sense of rhythm. His sense of time was always perfect, and fast or slowed when needed. His time was really remarkable, better than Banta's, Hylands'(most of the time), and all the other early studio pianists I've heard. His sense of Ragged time was not really the best, but you could tell that he was really trying it, and was all-right at it for a man who was more of a conservative Germanic man than Banta was. Issler was forcd to learn how to syncopate early on, when I say early, I mean the early 1890's. It is evident that by 1896, Issler had a good understanding of this newly popular syncopated music. This is very clearly heard on this record here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOIflqNM0iw
This syncopation that he plays on this record is really fascinating, as it's of the early Rag-Time style, and since this was recorded in 1896, that really gets the point across, and that it's IMPROVISED, ever more illustrates Issler's genius. 

This also gets the point I harshly argue about Rag-Time officially beginning as a craze in 1896, and hearing the same syncopation that was in Rag medleys from the year after really says something about what Max Hoffmann called "The present day fad". It seems that "fad" had begun in 1896 and spilled over into 1897. Issler had caught the bug, not bit as many times as Hylands or Burt Green, but had a little of it in him by 1896 and 1897. 

To listen to more of Issler's great records, we have come to the conclusion that he is on that infamous early 1897 Columbia of "Uncle Jefferson"by Billy Golden. You can hear that here:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11728
It's still unclear whether it's young Fred Hylands or Issler on this record, but in this case, it's more likely Issler. The syncopation on much of this record also mirrors the other records where he's improvising syncopated melodies. An unexpectedly good example of Issler's semi-Ragtime playing can be heard on George W. Johnson's famous 1891 Edison of "The Whistling Coon".You can hear that historic cylinder here:
https://archive.org/details/TheWhistlingCoon1891
Other than it being the first record Johnson made, it's a very early example of Issler's pre-Ragtime playing. It's not syncopated very clearly, it would take a few very close listens to catch the syncopated playing in the accompaniment, as well as the very timely left hand rhythmic patterns. A clearer section of syncopation can be heard in the piano at 1:19-1:20, and that's one of the clearer things on this record behind Johnson's piercing whistling. Issler's playing on this unexpectedly "ragged" recording is very fitting with Johnson's very clearly syncopated whistling melodies. 

*It MUST be noted how syncopated and ragged Johnson's singing on this cylinder is, and it's not even "victorian" syncopation which isn't really ragged rhythmically, it just sounds like it is. Johnson's rhythm was very good, considering all of the rushy pianists he had behind him(not counting Issler), and this cylinder exemplifies that. His whistling is particularly syncopated, and needs, therefore, to be noted by Rag-Time scholars.*

I really mean it about Johnson's 1891 Edison of "The Whistling Coon", it's not only historic for what it is, but it's also a great example of pure and clear "Negro Dance" era(c.1886-1895) syncopation, or just simply, pre-Ragtime. This is essentially what pre-Rags sounded like before Ben Harney, Ned Wayburn, or Ernest Hogan came on the scene.



Now to somewhat tie the second section of this post to the end of the previous one, the second part of the post title is a subject often debated hotly among us record collectors and music historians. But with this, I have come across a fascinating comparison to address this controversial matter. After going through the Lost Sounds book once more yesterday, other than just going through the Johnson trial once more, I read over the relatively short section on Cousins and DeMoss, who were a fantastic black vaudeville duo much like Williams and Walker, but kept a more traditional style of black hymns, general music and instrumentation. Their two known records are among the best examples of traditional black American music. The particular record of theirs that I will address here in this touchy comparison is their fantastic Berliner no. 3012, "Who Broke the Lock", recorded in 1898. 
Here's the record:
skip to 1:12:40 for this transfer
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iH6NRIzSBM
It is one of the most danceable 1890's records I have ever heard, hands down, and it really sets the scene of a black dance floor better than anything the white orchestras tried to illustrate. It's a fantastic record all around, with a strange combination of a guitar and banjo, you can't go wrong. 

Now that you've heard that, compare that with the closing song of this Len Spencer creation from 1901:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ULZv-1ejsY
It's very strange to compare these two records. 
Something tells me, though, that Spencer and Hylands probably set down and listened to Berliner 3012 at some point before this was recorded, also since Berliner recording this group must have caused a little stir among the Columbia clan. Spencer would have heard either way, since he was Johnson's advocate, any news of new black artists would have gotten to Spencer quick for sure. 

(a cartoon I did of Spencer in minstrel attire)
Thinking of Spencer, he probably spent time to listen to the two records Cousins and DeMoss recorded, and tried his best at imitating their fantastic and wholly authentic style, even if the 1901 minstrel record is not nearly as syncopated and authentic as the original 1898 recording. He would have at least listened to the record and mimicked them as best he could, he and Hylands seem the most likely to have done this. 

It's almost not a fair comparison, but it's very interesting that Spencer specifically chose "Who Broke the Lock"(or "Who Built the Ark", which sounds like a Spencer alteration anyway), is very suspicious, as it's a pretty unusual song for one of those minstrel records of his. Most of the songs he used were old favourites like "The Old log Cabin" or were more modern major hits like "Hello My Baby", not really more obscure tunes like the one on the 1901 recording. It must have been because of the Cousins and DeMoss recordings, if not, I'm not sure where else he would have gotten it from. It must be noted that Spencer used this tune on earlier versions of the same selection, such as their 1899 take(without Spencer for some reason...):

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8392



This is truly a fascinating comparison to make, and theory to consider, since it really is just another example of many of the white singers imitating the black ones because of how good the black performers were with the songs. This seems to be part of Spencer's strangely backward means of advocating for recording authentic black music, even if he had nothing to do with Berliner recording Cousins and DeMoss. If he had anything to do with recording Cousins and DeMoss(which he probably didn't) I would give him more credit for being more enlightened as far as race relations go. As far as everything that he did in his "advocacy", his grade in this matter would be a solid C. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Columbia as a workplace(1897-1904)

Despite the fact of Columbia's ledgers being long gone, we can piece together how complicated the building picture above was as a workplace for the talent, electricians, attorneys, laborers and everyone else. After a long discussion on this topic yesterday, it made me realise that Columbia was a larger operation than just the recording, even though it could be thought of that way beforehand. Columbia's 27th and Broadway headquarters were the center of the action for the staff in the late-1890's, it was where all the recording was done, exhibitions given, and primary store for record sales. The building seen in the image above was purchased by the Columbia management in 1896, and began operation in the first two months of 1897, a page from the July, 1897 issue of The Phonoscope wrote a very detailed description of the building seen above:

https://archive.org/stream/phonoscope13hunt#page/n137/mode/2up

(it's the first article in the edition!)

The building was certainly one of the brightest things on Broadway, and every description of the ground floor parlor never fails to describe those electric lights. In the section above, it is said that there were seven hundred incandescent lights. Seven hundred! Damn! Seven hundred chances to start a beastly fire is what that is! I'm sure it happened at least a few times, like those times when Len Spencer thought he could go an fix something simple, but it turns into a big problem. Remember this here, that was referred to many times later by the Columbia staff as an ongoing joke:

Indeed so, thinking of Spencer, he probably would have offered to try to fix more things like this, even after the piano practically screamed at him not do it on his own, and got what he deserved in trying to do so. Maybe piano tuning, light bulb changing, and running the pantograph machines in the basement. Other dangerous things like that seemed something he would try just because he could. If they didn't have one of the younger boys working there go to change the lightbulbs or clean the windows, one of the more ambitious Columbia clan members would go to it, like Len Spencer or Russell Hunting, or maybe even Victor Emerson. Remember that this was the 1890's so there would be little kids(little boys) running around the studio rooms to do small practical jobs, like cleaning the windows, carrying around crates of cylinders, going to fetch things from wherever to bring to wherever, and cleaning up the studios, such as the supposed gilt mirrors they had in the exhibition parlor(that's stereotypical Victorian alright!). It is clear that they had electricians there, and since there was such a terrible mess of electrical there, they most certainly had more than one, other than Frank Capps. One thing that I wonder if they had there in parlor was the supposed fad of multicoloured light bulb displays. 

It has been said that many phonograph parlors had light bulb displays that weren't just yellow-ish or white, but were red, blue, green, violet, any colours that could be dyed into glass. Maybe every once in a while when exhibitions were held at Columbia, they changed out come of the light bulbs for red or blue ones, or something wild and somewhat psychedelic like that. If they ever did that, it certainly would have made it more of a spectacle than it already was.We know what those exhibitions were like, and the great picture I've used countless times explains it better than any descriptions I've found:

The recent finding of the three electric fans makes this picture even better. Just to refresh, I am going to attempt to point them out in this picture: one is at the very top of the rack to left of the column that cuts it almost in half, another is on the shelf just below it, immediately to the left of the column, and the third one is set on the piano platform just behind whoever's elbow that is standing next to AtLee in the center. You may notice that the fans were running when the picture was taken, as they're a bit blurry, and that adds a sense of charm to it that makes the picture seem ever more less staged than every other studio picture.

A few studio stars and workers kept their mail at the building, and that was probably stored in the basement of the building, or maybe on the top floor where all the recording rooms were, either place would have worked. The recording rooms were always said to have had music going on, with some kind of activity constantly going, and people always moving from room to room, up and down the stairs, and back and forth through the halls. It seemed there was always something brewing, and gossip and stories being thrown around at every corner. The season of exhibitions in 1898 however must have especially been this way, since so much planning and organization went into hosting these exhibitions.  This is exactly why The Phonoscope is such an interesting and rare look into Columbia's studio gossip and inner workings, in a way that having ledgers wouldn't, and this can be proven by going through Victor's very complete and well-preserved ledgers. 

I have gone on rants before about Columbia's studios at different times of the year, and with knowing the electric fan feuds, it brings a better sense of what it was like to work there in the summer. They could have had more than three though, that would have been really helpful and would have diminished the amount of fights that ensued from these. At least one in every room would have done the best, though I'm certain that Emerson's and Easton's offices had all the luxuries the studios upstairs didn't. Of course, times in the winter there wouldn't have been any better, after they sent one of the young worker boys down to the basement in the morning to light up the furnace, and  get the radiators running, even if that could have caused some racket, they probably didn't have them in the recording rooms, and since they were on the top floor, it would stay warmer up there, maybe. The studio at 1155 Broadway became a place for many famous people to make appearances, as indicated in a few sections from The Phonoscope, though it was stated that this was more so when exhibitions were held, which makes more sense in that matter. 

One thing that was mentioned a few times in later editions of you know what, was a comical section about how the studio stars would show up in paydays all dressed up, standing on the corner, lined up to "carry off the coin" as stated in the November edition. It must have been a real spectacle to see them all lined up, dressed like dandies and swells, all smiling to take home their hundreds of dollars for their weeks' or so pay. Wonder if this was so in every salary day? How that would have been great to witness at a distance, probably sitting there on the corner of the other street for hours drawing as much as I could! 

Now for some music! 

These newly slowed down transfers are continuing to come along, with fantastic ways to finally hear these records made at the studio pictures above, and in others that were of a different name, such as Edison and Zon-O-phone. The new transfers for this post are two records recorded in 1898, one is by J.W. Myers:

and the other is by everyone's favourite "temperant" Dan W. Quinn!

The first record to be exhibited(ha! inside joke!) is a fantastic take of a rather boring but pretty Victorian song. Many of these old Victorian songs could be described that way, unless they're Will O'the Wisp or Captain Jinks, heh, both of which Myers recorded incidentally! 
Anyhow, here's his fantastic and beautiful, newly slowed down 1898 recording of "Alice, Where Art Thou":
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YeXhGWUF0LXg0MHhZUTg3Qk50TU5NbGZENzUw/view?usp=sharing
We can clearly hear that big long room they recorded this in, and the tone of the piano. I have explained before why I really like pianos to sound like the one on the cylinder just above, not just because old pianos generally sounds like that, but also because it actually has to do with how pianos were made in that time. With that old design, it made them sound more like guitars than a modern piano as we know it, and the sound of the piano in the record above exemplifies this fact. It's Columbia's old crappy piano, the one that was flipped over by Len Spencer in 1897, still sounding as aged and Victorian as ever, yet very pure, earthy, and dark. That's how Victorian pianos were supposed to sound, dark and "wirey", yet very pleasing to only certain ears. Many modern Rag-Time pianists don't realise this, they only think of it as an inaccurate stereotype, and many Scott Joplin freaks think that Joplin wouldn't have settled for a piano that sounded like the one on the cylinder above, but he probably hadn't a choice but to play a piano that sounded like so, since pianos generally sounded like that! 

Ha! take that neo-Classical Joplin freaks! 

Sorry, do excuse that. 
The second record to be listened to is a fantastic piece of 1898 Rag-Time by Dan Quinn, and it's one that many people didn't know had lyrics, here's Quinn's 1898 Columbia of "At a Georgia Campmeeting" newly slowed down:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YS0RDV2hHeXd0QXdPQW5YMjA3bTdkeUxqWWpJ/view?usp=sharing

It sounds amazing now, and all of Hylands' syncopation is very loud and clear, with all the typical yet atypical rhythmic stylings he had. This one particularly captures the syncopation better than most brown waxes he's on I've heard, and really captures the genius of Hylands' Rag style, that was very unique. His playing is so well captured on this record, that this transfer can be used as a reference in trying to identify his playing on other records from later on. It's very representative, and catches most of his distinctions, except for the walking octaves, which was an important aspect to his style. 


Keep yer ear-tubes runnin' out thar!

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Exceptional and awful takes

For the seminar on Fred Hylands I will be giving in a little over a month, I have to pick two records that exhibit two sides of Hylands' studio playing. One is to be a very good take, and another is the worst of the worst we know of. The good take will be decided later, as that will be harder to choose than the bad takes. Last evening, I listened to many of the bad takes I know of, which just happened to be all from pre-1900, even though I have heard some bad takes from after then. Some of Hylands' bad takes are hard to believe that they were issued, with mistakes that are unbelievable. Of course, the bad takes are just as interesting as the good takes, in fact they are more so sometimes, because the mistakes are unexpected. The first record that Ryan Wishner and I discussed as far as the bad takes go is one by Steve Porter:

Steve Porter---Columbia's richest gambler

After taking a few listens to a few records by Porter, it seems that he wasn't really a very good singer early on, in fact, he was worse than Dan Quinn was, which is really saying something. Porter was really only integrated into the "Columbia Clan" because he was rich, and he had befriended Russell Hunting before everyone else did(in 1895 in fact). His massive wealth did him well at Columbia, and it earned him a job singing for their Graphophones in 1897, even if he wasn't a very good singer. He always had weekends playing golf or sailing in his yacht to look forward to after singing so much in the studio during the week(this actually stated in an edition of The Phonoscope). The record by Porter than was suggested for the bad takes to choose was an 1899 take of "In the Baggage Coach Ahead". 

Here's the take:

https://ia800307.us.archive.org/33/items/StevePorter/StevePorter-IntheBaggageCoachAhead.mp3

It's not a very good take as far as Hylands piano accompaniments go...

The piano playing is really scattered and rushed, much like most of the bad takes I know of. Much like Hylands usually did, if he was out-of-sync with a singer, he was ahead of them most of the time, and this Porter record does indeed exhibit that, but it's not clear enough to prove the point with a bad take. It's pretty awful regardless. Another bad take by Porter and Hylands is their 1901 recording of "Carrie Nation in Kansas". It's hilarious, but the piano playing is very weird and full of mistakes, such as Hylands' signature triplet thing at 38 seconds in. Hylands' rhythm is not the best either, it's pretty steady, but gets out of sync with Porter's singing at some points. Also! Listen to the sketch at the very end, which sounds much like those crazy Spam-war(Spanish-American war) 1898 descriptive selections by the Columbia orchestra(such as this fun one here!).

Who's that howling back there?

Damn! Who is that?! That's sure as hell some howl! It's more prominent than all of the ones on the Columbia orchestra descriptive selections about field battles. I can't tell if the howl comes from piano distance, but it sounds like it does. Hmm... ... ... Maybe that's a clue... ... ... 

Yes, all of the bad takes in terms of piano accompaniment are more likely than not recorded when Hylands or the featured singer was intoxicated. Of course, it would have to be just that, and the types of wild playing vary in fact, there's the anxious and very quick playing, and there's the scattered and weird slower playing like on the 1901 Porter cylinder above. Maybe those two different types of playing mean different influences...

The possibly white-ish powdered influence on Hylands can be heard on records like this one: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ynt_zj1wmTo

(skip to just over a minute in for the record to finally start...)

The playing I mean here is the solo at the end primarily. It's quick, rushed, and scattered. It's very hard to keep up with when attempting to play the solo by ear, which is exactly what I'm getting at. I have heard this type of solo from Hylands a few times, one is from a disc of "Bye Bye my Honey" by Billy Golden, and another is from a 1903 recording of "The whistling Coon" by Billy Murray, as well as a 1902 Murray recording of "Has anybody Seen our Cat"(this is a newly slowed down transfer by the way!). 

These two in the links above are not really bad takes necessarily, but they're strange enough for to take notice. When I say bad takes, I mean records like these:

Will F. Denny's 1899 Columbia of "How'd You Like to be the Iceman?"

George W. Johnson's 1898 Columbia of "The Whistling Girl" 

Steve Porter's 1900 Columbia Concert cylinder of "A Bird In a Gilded Cage"

George W. Johnson's 1898 Columbia of "The Laughing Coon"

George Schweinfest's 1899 cylinder of "The Bob White Polka"

Spencer and Harding's 1899 Columbia of "Larboard Watch"

Len Spencer's early 1902 Columbia of "On Emancipation Day"

one of many alternate takes of "The laughing Song" by George W. Johnson

These bad takes are either bad on the piano players' part, the singer's, or both. Now when I say good takes, I mean these:

Len Spencer's 1899 Columbia concert of "Warmest Baby in the Bunch"

(can't share the link, sorry...)

a really good take of "The Laughing Song" by George W. Johnson

Billy Golden's 1899 version of "Turkey in the Straw"

Collins and Harlan's fantastic 1903 Zon-O-phone of "Ephasafa Dill"

Collins' 1903 Zon-O-Phone of "Bill Bailey"

Will F. Denny's 1902 Columbia of "Just because she Made Dem Goo Goo Eyes"

Steve porter's 1901 Concert Columbia of "Mamie"

Billy Golden's 1898 Columbia of "Roll On the Ground"

Bob Roberts' exceptional 1903 Columbia of "I've got to go Now"

It must be noted that the last cylinder listed here is a newly-posted record on Youtube, that was posted just to-day, and turned out to be among the best examples of Rag-Time on early Columbia records. All of the 1903 to 1905 Columbia's Roberts made with piano accompaniment sound like that record, with pristine and top-liner Rag-Time piano behind him. I hope I have made it clear that it's hard to choose just one record of these good and bad takes, though as far as the bad takes go, Johnson's "Whistling Girl" is especially so compared to the others listed, so does Spencer's "On Emancipation Day". Those two exhibit a mix of all the bad things about Hylands' playing when it wasn't at its best. On the other end, the good takes are more hard pressed when trying to pick one that is better than the others. The first one listed(that isn't a link) is one that can be considered a good and bad take, as it's a fantastic example of late-1890's Rag-Time, but Spencer's singing on it is particularly awful. The piano playing is weird and scattered, to make matters better, which is certainly Hylands by all means. 

With this dilemma, I would like ideas from other collectors on this, choosing one good take and a bad take, please drop your ideas in the comments on this post! 

As Hylands once advertised:

All mail cheerfully accepted!

Hope you enjoyed this! 

analysis of the Johnson Trial, and inspiration from Hylands

The first part of the title seen just above is a subject that remains very dear to my psychological studies of these "show-biz" figures mentioned on this blog. The reason it is not only a great case study for the terms and morals of these performers, but how they operated when a sort of crisis befell them. It was so unexpected that it was expected when it came upon the Columbia staff, as Victor Emerson hadn't really been involved in any of the previous court battles of record companies(save for the fall of the U. S. Phonograph company in 1897, he was part of that somewhat). Emerson was the one who worried the most about this sort of thing, and the first time that Johnson got into trouble in 1898, it put everyone on the edge of the cliff for a brief moment, then when he was released from the courtroom innocent, everything and everyone went back to normal. The amount of trouble Emerson went through to create a fund for Johnson's defense ought to make anyone confused, as it was in this very era that concepts such as the "White-man's burden" became an important social implication in politics and in general knowledge. It remains very strange and backward that they all supported and valued Johnson so highly, seemingly forgetting their ingrained perspectives on race hierarchy. 

Of course, the strange fact that Johnson was convicted of killing a white woman the first time around(in 1898) didn't really effect the Columbia staff as much doesn't match morally(to the time period). The second time around(the murder trial), he was convicted of killing a supposed "mixed" woman, or Creole, as the existing evidence indicates. This would logically not be as important to the entirely white Columbia staff, though it seemed to hit them harder, in some way, that I cannot well understand, even by putting myself in their mindset. Yes, it is clear that the principal motivation for this contradicting support for his defense, would be money an profits, without doubt, that was what made Emerson, Fred Hylands, and Len Spencer scramble to begin this $2,000 fund for Johnson's defense. According to all the available sources, most of the money came from Columbia record exhibitors, as well as Columbia staff members. 

What must be noted here is that Johnson worked for Edison as well when this trial came along, and the Edison staff did nothing as this went by, as there's no way in hell that these companies would join together in this endeavor. They sat back and waited for Columbia's law department to take care of Johnson. 

None of these social implications seemed to matter when it was their only black man at stake. 
Everything was thrown out the window for the Johnson trial: all the disgruntled attitudes from having Johnson there, the previous mistakes he made, inequity from Johnson's race... it all went away until the trial was over and he was acquitted. One thing that I think I mentioned before in my Rollin Wooster post was about how in the years after being Hylands' lawyer and silent publishing partner, he became a Baptist preacher, probably out of the flaming guilt he had about advocating for Hylands, and for anything else sleazy he had done as a lawyer in the 1890's, which we know is quite a lot having stereotypes of lawyers being true. He must have believed his money was going to the wrong place as a lawyer, as it is clear that the man had money to burn before even becoming associated with the publishing firm with Len Spencer. For Hylands' next publishing endeavor of 1902, he must have gone to Wooster once more, asking if he would retake the place of legal advisor, but of course, he refused, then going through his transformation rather from an opportunist lawyer to a Baptist preacher. Rollin probably just scowled at Fred, and refused plainly, as it was obvious why he wouldn't join one of his ventures once more. We know that that publishing firm didn't last nearly as long as the previous one, primarily from his lack of donors and economic benefactors. 

Since everyone at Columbia was so focused on Hylands Spencer and Yeager, someone probably had to give them the news that this had happened, and it set everyone scrambling to come to solutions. Fred threw in some money to the defense fund, and attached Rollin Wooster to the money as one of Columbia's attorneys. It seems that Wooster had nothing to do whatsoever with Columbia before Hylands snatched him out of the Law department that the worked in at the time. Of course, much like the reason that Hylands took in Burt Green, Wooster was not only very smart and well-educated(remember in the last post I did on him, that he was a Yale Law Graduate), but was able to manage capital more effectively than Hylands. 


After reviewing the case for the hundredth time from Tim Brooks' Lost Sounds , Wooster is not mentioned at all as being associated with Fred Hylands and Len Spenccer, though it must be noted in such a strange matter as this. The fact that none of Johnson's fellow recording stars not testifying in the courtroom is of course one of the most suspicious of these factors that went into the presentation of the defense. Someone like Len Spencer could easily have testified, and told a great lie of how Johnson would have never done anything to hurt anyone, even though Johnson probably did nothing wrong to Spencer. 

Like I have said before, I still stand on the idea that Johnson did murder his common-law wife. Regardless of what anyone says about the matter, even the hard evidence of the court transcript won't convince me. 



Anyhow, enough moral talk, time for some music! 
This week one of those prominent record collectors posted a handful of records on Youtube this week, with one in particular that caught my ears. He posted a 1902 Moulded Edison cylinder of "Whistling Rufus" by Dan Quinn with Banta. 

It be about time to mention this great pianist and man once more. 
I was digging around on the Santa Barbara cylinder website a few days ago, and stumbled across two 1898 cylinders by Cal Stewart with Frank Banta. 
The first one is a very different take of George W. Johnson's famous "Laughing Coon", but Stewart took his own spin on it with this. At  the end of the record, there's 20 seconds of Banta playing a very interesting and well-structured solo, here you go:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder15526
Banta's solo at the end is very proper as far as Rag-Time goes, even though it can still be classified as such. The one thing that is really surprising about the quality of this record is how well-recorded the piano was, as well as the tone of the piano. Banta's solos between the chorus and verse is really interesting, though ht misses it the last time around, which is kind of funny, since we're not used to Banta playing such a prominent and clear mistake behind anyone. 

This next one is a similar story, with exactly the same format and sequencing as the last one, with the 20 second solo at the end just like the last one. This is also a Johnson specialty sung by Cal Stewart:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11389
Banta is playing very proper and politely on these two records, even though he's throwing in those raucous fifths that don't seem to go with the very polite playing in the solos, but that's how Banta played. Of course we've heard him play much less so on records like this one here. 

This record I mentioned a little above that this record collector posted on Youtube is a strange version of "Whistling Rufus" by Dan Quinn with Banta, but there's something about the piano playing that kicks up some suspicion in comparison with another version of the same song. 
Here's the newly posted Quinn and Banta version:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01o9D467lc4
The walking octaves. 
That's weird! 
That right there proves that Banta at least heard Hylands play, whether in person or on records, it proves my theory that once Hylands began working at Columbia, the Edison people took notice and forced Banta to listen to the new hot pianist at the competitor company. Just to get this point across further, here's Spencer and Hylands' 1899 version of the same song:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5p01PX7a7w(skip to 6 minutes in for the music to start)
Of course, this version is just Hylands doing what he usually did behind Spencer amplified and added onto, with all the walking octaves a Rag-time pianist could handle. This version still remains one of the best Hylands Rag-Time examples out there, though I have heard better, but I cannot share the links on here. The best examples of course of Hylands playing Rag-Time is all on records with Spencer(go figure...), and my still relatively new acquisition of "On Emancipation Day" by them is no exception. All of these notions are things that I must take notes of in my Hylands seminar in November, since he is making to be more of an inspiration to other pianists than previously thought. 


To take this inspiration to another level, the great and hilarious black Vaudevillian Pete Hampton worked for Edison Bell and Nicole records in pre-1905 out in England, and with that, he worked with managers who worked often with Hylands before 1900. These managers were Steve Porter and Russell Hunting, and they seemed to be the best of luck for Hampton's studio pianists at these companies. Since Hampton recorded many fun "Coon" songs for these companies, the piano accompaniment on all of these is absolutely amazing for being British records! Charlie Judkins sent me a handful of these records this morning, and the ones that had piano accompaniment on them were exceptional! Two examples in particular were a record of "Bill Bailey" and one of "Any Rags", which were, first of all, recorded better than any American records from that time I have ever heard, in terms of piano accompaniment. I can hear every bass note, every trill, every syncopated note, it's all clear as a bell. It sounds like Steve Porter played recordings for the supposed pianist named Arthur Brooks that were by either Arthur Collins, or Len Spencer, with Hylands playing piano. That makes me assume that Brooks had amazing abilities in playing by ear, as he catches all of Hylands' characteristics better than anyone I have ever heard back then on records and even in Rag-Time communities now. If I didn't know any better, I'd've thought Hylands was playing piano! Porter and Hunting sure as hell kept something with them when they went overseas.

 I wonder if word got back to Hylands that Porter and Hunting were doing this...

Before the end of this post, I would like to share another newly slowed down transfer from this week. This time, it's a great original take of "The Laughing Coon" by George W. Johnson from 1898. The take in itself without any changes made has been used on this blog, but it always seemed too fast, so here's the newly fixed transfer:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YUkJBWXFncTF6S3RXOVJEN3Q0MjNTVWRCa2pR/view?usp=sharing
Not all the piano playing can be heard, but it's better than it was. 
The solo at the end that Hylands plays is still a mess, even though when it's slower, it sounds better and fathomable. The tone of the piano can be heard better this time around, which is great, because it still sounds like that 1898-99 piano at Columbia, so that's reassuring to some extent. This record remains a good example of Hylands not playing his best, possibly from being somewhat intoxicated(that's always fun to hear!). Johnson is probably as such as well if you're really listening closely. 

Hope you enjoyed this!