Thanks to the help of Charlie Judkins and Mason, it seems we now have at least an idea of who Will J. Hardman was.
The reason that is had been a dead end every time anyone looked for any traces of Hardman is because he was English! It makes so much sense now why there was next to nothing out there on him in terms of finding the basic biographical information. What's more, Hardman wrote a book in 1884 called A Trip to America which is an endlessly entertaining read. Just today I was sent the link to the book and powered through 80 pages of it since it quickly captivated me.
If you want to start reading the thing, here's the link:
Don't get sucked in too far!
I'm not entirely certain whether or not to connect these lines yet, if that's the same guy. It's got to be though, since he can be found in public records around the late 1880's living in Brooklyn as a printer/bookbinder. At least that clears up why he would be of use to Hylands and Spencer. After reading a lot of that book, it's really nice to get a well founded idea of what the guy was like, and that it oddly corresponds to the strange and poetic lyrics that he wrote with Hylands. Though Hardman is basically exactly the opposite kind of person I had long guessed. You can't get them all turns out...
Hardman was described in the book as "Aggressively English"(which is a hilarious term I will now appropriate). But oddly enough he was also described in a similar way physically to Hylands, which also would be an object of attraction for Hylands. It's very clear that Hardman was a very educated man, who loved books more than anything. This is very much evident throughout the book's chapters and vibrant descriptions of New York in 1883 and of the entirety of the U.S. in that time. There's quite a bit of humor throughout his descriptions of travels, which mirrors that of his work with Hylands. Even though Hardman had been writing music here and there in the 1880's and 1890's, it still seems strange to find a man so intelligent and greatly invested in literature to reach the low point of working with such a hustler as Fred Hylands. In his 1884 book he describes the common character of old New York, the "confidence man" who so often scammed new travelers and unknowing street people. Hardman himself was taken by the arm of a few of these scammers, and they turned out to be famous lottery brokers, who tinkered with the numbers and players. To assume Hylands in a similar position, Hardman would only think of Hylands in a similar way, especially with his faux background in economic studies as a teenager. Surely Hardman was wise to the ways of Hylands, of course after he got to know the studio rambler(Hylands). Likely from the convincing grin and genuine business intellect of Len Spencer, Hardman was swayed to revive his musical talent and write with Hylands. Again, after reading through that book, he doesn't actually seem too different from what we can piece together about Hylands.
Yes now that we know all this, it's all fine and dandy, but the basic questions still haven't been answered. We don't know how old he was, when he died, or anything else like that. I would guess he was born around the same time as Silas Leachman(1859), since he said that he was married in 1883. He seemed to have a particular fondness for the theater and the music that was played, as evident in the chapter in his book regarding New York theater society. This remains another hint at why he connected so well with Hylands over a decade later.
What's also rather humorous is how much he had to say about New York Hotel food. He spoke of the subject matter in such great detail, and with such admiration whilst also exhibiting his clear astonishment of the portions and perfection. Such a thing hints more at similarities to Hylands. Wink wink...
We may not have the basic information we would need to piece together Mr. Hardman, but at least we know why, and how and why he was of such value to Hylands, Spencer, and Yeager. Now that I've had the chance to read a bunch of his writing, his strange lyrics to "You Don't Stop the World from Going Round" makes much more sense, and its curious origins are much clearer.
Now to move to something that relates to the last post. In the last post I broke down Frank P. Banta's most eccentric characteristics in terms of accompaniment.
This time we actually have words from Banta!
I mentioned in the last post that there aren't any hints to Banta's personality, but now there's a tiny little glimpse that sums him up pretty well.
There's a newspaper article from June of 1893 regarding the newest realm of recording for the North American phonograph Company. When reading over the little article on the dense page, it takes a little while to see the words "Mr. Frank Banta" written on the page.
https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83030272/1893-06-25/ed-2/seq-5/
Banta in a nutshell:
"Oh that doesn't matter...just hum it over once and I'll catch it."
Yep, that's pretty much how Dan W. Quinn described Banta. Quinn praised Banta's perfect pitch and ability to play a song entirely through after once hearing it. This very quote above to the fullest extent supports Quinn's claims regarding Banta, and why all the studio workers enjoyed working with him so much. In this situation of having a Banta quote, I should most certainly dig out that record by Banta's orchestra that likely has the voice of Banta himself in the announcement.
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11738
That voice at the beginning has got to be him. Never has a voice so perfectly matched the appearance of a studio star.
Also, I think that's Banta's voice because I've heard a similar one on Edison records later on records that are of sketches, such as ones by Len Spencer.
An example of this is here:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder7434
One of those laughing voices is certainly Banta. The timing would indicate that he's there, as well as the little bit of piano accompaniment there is on the record. The thing about those laughing voices on this record is that there's this one that particularly sticks out at the very end. It's really exaggerated, but it has that same sort of weird twang that the voice at the beginning of the Banta's orchestra record has believe it or not.
You can hear that same voice here too:
http://www.tinfoil.com/cm-9911.htm#ch0410
So now with that input, really try to imagine that twangy New Yorker voice speaking those words from the Sun article.
Not often do the voices of these recording stars match their appearance, but it seems Banta's does.
I mentioned in the last post that there aren't any hints to Banta's personality, but now there's a tiny little glimpse that sums him up pretty well.
There's a newspaper article from June of 1893 regarding the newest realm of recording for the North American phonograph Company. When reading over the little article on the dense page, it takes a little while to see the words "Mr. Frank Banta" written on the page.
https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83030272/1893-06-25/ed-2/seq-5/
Banta in a nutshell:
"Oh that doesn't matter...just hum it over once and I'll catch it."
Yep, that's pretty much how Dan W. Quinn described Banta. Quinn praised Banta's perfect pitch and ability to play a song entirely through after once hearing it. This very quote above to the fullest extent supports Quinn's claims regarding Banta, and why all the studio workers enjoyed working with him so much. In this situation of having a Banta quote, I should most certainly dig out that record by Banta's orchestra that likely has the voice of Banta himself in the announcement.
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11738
That voice at the beginning has got to be him. Never has a voice so perfectly matched the appearance of a studio star.
Also, I think that's Banta's voice because I've heard a similar one on Edison records later on records that are of sketches, such as ones by Len Spencer.
An example of this is here:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder7434
One of those laughing voices is certainly Banta. The timing would indicate that he's there, as well as the little bit of piano accompaniment there is on the record. The thing about those laughing voices on this record is that there's this one that particularly sticks out at the very end. It's really exaggerated, but it has that same sort of weird twang that the voice at the beginning of the Banta's orchestra record has believe it or not.
You can hear that same voice here too:
http://www.tinfoil.com/cm-9911.htm#ch0410
So now with that input, really try to imagine that twangy New Yorker voice speaking those words from the Sun article.
Not often do the voices of these recording stars match their appearance, but it seems Banta's does.
That voice suits that look surprisingly well, as do the very words that we have immortalized in that newspaper article.
Before I finish, I'd like to share a new Santa Barbara transfer that is worth mention. Us Rag-Time scholars are on the hunt for records of early Hylands, which means recorded for Columbia for certain in 1897. This record I'm sharing is one of these so important records.
here's the record:
Just to clear it up, the title they have listed is not the correct one.
This tune was a popular one of 1896, originating from May Irwin's outstanding and renowned performance in The Widow Jones.
There we go.
The name of this early coon song is "I Want'cher Ma honey".
This particular Hylands and Spencer record is very well recorded, and that means we can hear that piano loud and clear as ever. It can also be observed that the piano being played sounds rather awful. It's not out of tune so much as it's rather beat up and in rough shape. The accuracy of the piano's tuning is hard to tell because Spencer's singing was always questionable. But one thing is for sure, that piano had seen better days. Luckily(and unfortunately), this particular record allows for this to be heard with great clarity, particularly in the solo after the first chorus. That single note that Hylands plays to end the solo is really more like a thump than a tonal note. This is a time where we can be thankful that Edison's piano always sounded good, and there's a reason for it. Banta had experience in tuning pianos and the general mechanics that go into the piano. Hylands didn't know a thing about piano tech. Without this knowledge, and no Banta to tend to the thing, their piano at Columbia sounded the way it does in this 1897 record. What's odd however is the fact that Columbia's piano sounded okay after 1898. It's only in 1897, and not even the entirety of that year in fact, that their piano sounded thumpy and stripped of most dynamic capability. This fact does help us date records such as this early Rag-Time record by Spencer, but it leads one to question why this was true. Of course there is no way to definitively know why Columbia's piano sounded to awful in that short period of time, but the fact that Edison's piano always sounded good must have something to do with Banta's constant presence.
Technology was not Hylands' specialty, and a crappy sounding piano can be a piece of evidence for this.
But aside from that, the crappy sounding piano rather adds to the aesthetic of the record, as Hylands does play some banjo imitation riffs and a piano that sounds like that can often evoke such a banjo sound that's more realistic.
Hope you enjoyed this!
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