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:
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.
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:
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:
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":
Hope you enjoyed this!
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