Showing posts with label Chicago Talking Machine Company. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago Talking Machine Company. Show all posts

Monday, July 25, 2016

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!*

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

The Mystery of "The Sousa Cakewalk" and The Chicago Talking Machine Company

There's been a certain cylinder on the Santa Barbara website that has been a big mystery since it was first listed. Since then, everyone I have shared the recording with have agreed on the title  of "The Sousa Cake-walk", though it's just a very Ragged rendition of Sousa's "Stars and Stripes Forever". It's a mysterious cylinder with completely unknown origins, or purposes, the date is even unsure, though it was indeed recorded in the Rag-Time era. No one knows who the pianist is, and the announcement at the beginning is very hard to , if not almost possible to decipher the name given. I cannot understand the announcement at all. All people I know with great ears don't know who the announcement suggests, nor can they ascertain any specific style or name.

The style presented on this amazing piece of Rag-Time history however, is that of vaudeville/saloon pianists of the late-1890's, much like Burt Green, Ben Harney, Fred Hylands, or Max Hoffmann. But from what can be understood, the announcement doesn't really say any of those names. Before I get any deeper into analysis, here's the cylinder:
I have tried transcribing this version, and its been pretty hard playing along with it, as the pianist has great rhythm, but is changing the time slightly here and there. 
The amazing thing about this cylinder is that it's an authentic "professor" recorded on a cylinder in the middle of the Rag-Time era, which is beyond extraordinary. Not even the big record companies recorded that sort of material! This cylinder in many ways is a better look into how Rag-Time was really played in the era itself. This is why I cannot really stress enough how historically important recording, as really what it is explains it fully. I just wish there was more information given as to what it is, as clearly it was played by a rough and ragged professor from Harlem(?) in the late-1890's-1900's. My guess as to the date, would have to be around 1899-1900, which is early, I know, but the fact that it was recorded on a brown wax cylinder, with a specific announcement to it, clearly there's some significance to it. The playing style is also like that of the studio pianists we have heard, though more specifically, Fred Hylands' style. One of the many thousands of thoughts that have come to my mind as to what the cylinder might be a test recording of a Columbia reject. What is meant by this is that this could be one of those recordings I mentioned in a previous post about when pianists were chosen for the studio pianist position in 1889 for Edison, and 1897 for Columbia. So in that case, this would have been recorded in 1897, which since it's a hot piece of Rag-Time, it would make sense for it being recorded in '97.

The only thing that throws off the professional nature of the cylinder is that loud speaking at the end congratulating the pianist, clearly speaking as though they're not skilled with the phonograph. That is the only indication of this maybe being an unprofessional home recording. Though the piano playing is clearly masterful, and very vaudeville-centric, which is an uncommon feature of piano solos on home recordings from the era. It's a very perplexing piece of Ragged history, that needs to be understood, as it was recorded for some special reason, whatever it happened to be. 

This cylinder is what I've always imagined it would sound like if Hylands was recorded while playing for the Easton's at the Waldorf in 1898 and 1899, as it sounds like is was recorded in a large tall room(like Columbia's top floor...), and there would be an announcement at the beginning, for the cylinder to later be personally in the collection of Master Easton himself. 




Of the odd variety of cylinders I listened to this evening, a handful of them were cylinders made by the Chicago Talking Machine Company. These cylinders have been a curiosity to many record collectors for decades, beginning with this familiar face:
Silas Leachman, the Chicago recording genius. 
Leachman's thousands of home-made cylinders for the Chicago Talking Machine Company were really the only reason that record collectors remained interested in this company. As it was, and still is extraordinarily rare to even have the chance to hear his Chicago-made brown wax cylinders. 
You now have the chance to hear two of these exceedingly rare and wanted cylinders here:

Remember, Leachman did everything when making these, and he made them at home, not in a studio. You know what, I just noticed, Leachman's piano accompaniment on the recording of "Oh! Uncle John" actually sounds a little like the Chicago style that we Rag-Timers know of, like that of Theodore Northrup, Ben Harney, and Fred Hylands. It seems very distant, but that indicates that Leachman heard one of any of these pianists play at any of the local vaudeville houses at that time, which makes perfect sense. If you might recall, Leachman learned everything he ever played by ear, and as we well know, he was a masterful mimic and style imitator. I hate to say it, but this cylinder by Leachman actually is a great example of Chicago-style piano playing in the mid-1890's, not exactly Rag-Time(though there are sprinkles of it here and there...)  but it's the closest thing we're going to get until someone finds Leachman singing  a hearty coon song like "Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose" or "I Don't Care if you Never Comes Back" on a brown wax, then we've got another mess to sift through. 
Anyway, the reason I wanted to get into this record company is because of the suspicious piano accompaniments I have been hearing(other than on the Leachman cylinders, we know that's him playing piano). Since this company was located in Chicago, the studio pianist(s) could have been anyone, and as we Rag-Time pianists know, there were a great many ragged pianists already going at their broken rhythms by 1895. It doesn't help that there are so few of these cylinders online, that way, we cannot really piece together a single piano style for these fascinating cylinders. Since I'm going that way, I'm just going to drop that name again. Fred Hylands--he might have been in that studio at some point. As I can prove that Banta was there, which is a good direction the company went in when they did it. Here's Banta's Popular orchestra recorded by them in c.1894:
That's Banta's orchestra alright. 
I don't think Banta would have stayed in Chicago, as he had to get back to New York not long after to tend to his duties playing with Vess Ossman, so it's very unlikely that Banta was one of their accompanists. This further suggests that Hylands was in their studio at some point, by 1895-96, he certainly would have been wanted as a studio pianist by some local company, and therefore, the only local one being the Chicago Talking Machine Company. 

Take this cylinder for example:
This is the clearest recording for this company that I have heard on the internet, as of now. 
It is also by a famous baritone who Columbia begged him to make records for them in 1897 and 1898. Bert Morphy remained a popular attraction into the early-teen's, from performing with Sousa's Band. 
Anyhow, this cylinder above is fascinating because the piano accompaniment does indeed sound like Hylands quite a lot. That's a little strange, but thinking of the circumstances, it would make some sense. The one Columbia that comes to mind when hearing this one is this Quinn cylinder from 1899. It has the same sort of waltz time, and also the quick and anxious overkill of notes. It must be noted that all of the record from this company were original takes, not dubs or pantographs from an original(like later Columbia's and Edison's), so all of these cylinders sound fantastically clear and full. 

There are also these two cylinders that sounds like Hylands accompaniments:
(It cuts out at about 2 minutes, and comes back full and clear after ten seconds or so)
Just for a good comparison, here's the 1896-97 recording of the same song:
It's clear these are completely different recordings, even if no information was given. 
I must point out this one small thing on the Herbert Holcombe take in the piano accompaniment. There's a very odd rolled octave at about 2:11, also that there's some very strongly hit chords at the end, and the chord in the left hand is a lower inversion of a C7 chord, which was often played by Hylands, and other early folk-Rag pianists of the 1890's. The ending is very loud and powerful, much like I'd imagine 23-34 year-old Fred Hylands to play and be as a mere child. 

Anyhow, I hope this clears some of the mystery surrounding these thing mentioned here, they are still works in progress as of now...

Hope you enjoyed this!