Showing posts with label North American. Show all posts
Showing posts with label North American. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

The Columbia Triangle and a first session

So, I returned from ARSC on Sunday, and there's an awful lot to report on. On the hour and a half flight back from Portland, I wrote eight pages of notes for future reference. Amid these pages, I highlighted a single conversation that I had with Tim Brooks. We spoke a good amount about the logistics of the 1900 to 1904 period at Columbia and Zon-O-Phone, and a few things came to light in this conversation. 

In reference to the last few posts, I recently uncovered from a Jim Walsh article that Hager himself stated that he was the musical director(or a director of some kind) at Columbia from 1900 to 1903. This proves that Hager worked at Columbia for certain, and also proves the cross pollination that happened between Columbia and Zon-O-Phone during this period. 
So what does this mean? Well, luckily I was able to discuss this with Tim Brooks, leading into the discussion with Hylands' role in the Columbia studio around 1900. 
So, Mr. Brooks observed that at Columbia during their early disc making days, oftentimes they would have different recording rooms for the disc takes and a different room for the cylinders. This would have been particularly so during the Climax period(1901-1902). So, this actually makes so much sense! Even if this wasn't necessarily so all the time, it would make sense that they would have different folks managing  the disc than the cylinder market at Columbia. So with the disc stuff at Columbia, this is where Hager fits in. Thanks to the large group portrait of Hager's orchestra, we know for sure that he worked at Columbia sometime in 1900 to 1903. 
So, again this begs the question, what does this mean?
Let's say Hager was the musical director at Columbia in this period, that would mean that his piano accompaniments are somewhere on Columbia in 1900 to 1903. Since this is probably so, this means there's a triangle here. 
The three being Hylands, Hager and Ring. This unusual trio would make up the Columbia piano accompaniments of this period. Well, that's great and all, but it makes the listening portion complicated. Despite the complication, I have noticed there's more than one pianist on Columbia in this period, and one of them was definitely a pianist on Zon-O-Phone in this period. So here's the issue, just as I explained in the previous few posts, I have gone back and listened to many dozens of Zono and Columbia records from this period back to back, and still the same triangle of pianists remains between the 2 companies. Nothing has changed about that, though I am still unsure of which pianist is hager. I know which one is Ring, and which is Hylands, but the Hager style is difficult to pin down. 
I still am leaning toward the idea that the smoother and looser style is Hager's, the one that sounds more directly related to Hylands'. A little while ago I wrote a detailed comparison between Hylands' and Hager's regional styles, and in the end it seems their styles of extraction aren't actually too different from one another. 
Hylands and Hager. 
The last time I compared their composition styles I used Hager's "Handsome Harry" and Hylands' "Darkey Volunteer". The first lines of both pieces are nearly identical. Hager clearly was listening to Hylands' accompaniments, whether it be in person or on the records he was studying. 
Just to refresh the memory of this, here are the two pieces played under the direction of the composers:


Now we know they were in the Columbia studio together for at least 2 years, most likely trading off as the pianist on discs and cylinders. I'm starting to think that Hager was the pianist who played the piccolo like flourishes at the very end of many Columbia records(as well as Zon-O-Phone's). This sort of signature ending was typical of bandleaders of the era, a good example being Arthur Pryor. So here are two good examples that illustrate that flourish at the end, one is a Columbia and the other a Zon-O-Phone:
(this is the Columbia)
(here is the Zon-O-Phone)
That same style is exactly the same as one of the three I've heard on Columbias from the same time, the Zono listed above is astonishingly similar to the Columbia. The rolled chord with the flourish, the likeness is mirrored. Unlike the Ring style, this particular one is more steady and constant, not swung and aggressive like Ring's. 

Well, this is still a work in progress, as it will continue to be until I see some actual ledgers for Columbia or Zon-O-Phone. 


Maybe Hager's scrapbooks and personal papers could hold answers...

Something is happening right now regarding these papers by the way...






Anyway, moving on! While at ARSC last week, I discussed a very important discovery regarding Banta's recording career. Believe it or not, I may have found Banta's very first recording date. Awhile back I wrote a bit on a newspaper article dated to 1893 regarding the new field of recording, which just happened to contain a perfect bit on Banta. So, in the original article from 1893, it stated that Banta had been working in the business for just about a year by then. And so now we have some hard evidence to prove that! 

July 30th, 1892. 

That is the date where Banta's name first shows up in any ledgers. So what were these ledgers exactly? Well, they were payment ledgers, not exactly the solid ledgers with titles and logistics, but it's the closest thing to it. This payment book wasn't necessarily from North American either, it was from the much smaller New York Phonograph company that didn't last to the patent battles of 1895. In these ledgers, it's fascinating to note that the pianists were paid equally and sometimes even more than the performers! Now that's satisfying, knowing the accompanists were paid well(at least in the earliest early days). Ever more unsurprising was who Banta was accompanying at his first session, Dan W. Quinn. Of course! Quinn was so very fond of Banta, so it makes sense that this connection goes back to the very beginning of both their recording careers. I would bet money that Quinn was the reason Banta got into the business in some kind of way. Quinn was a popular vaudeville performer in this period, so he probably came across the young hot Banta somewhere on the vaudeville circuit. 
So maybe it would be helpful to seek out some records of this company, or just that year more generally. If it's possible, it's likely that we could pick out a 22-23 year old Banta on some of Quinn's and Ossman's earliest records. A good start to this search would be looking for some of the earliest records by Quinn and Ossman that survive. The earliest Quinn record I have heard is from 1893, and here it is: 
So i have no idea what the company of this record is, and it's not indicated at the beginning, so who knows, it could be one of those early Quinn-Banta records. I'll have to spend some more time digging for early Quinn records, it's entirely possible to dig up a few of these record he made with Banta, and if they aren't Columbia's it's more likely to be Banta than Gaisberg(or Schweinfest, whoever they had there). Just on this one record though, I caught the clustered chords that mirror the right hand. That's a signature Banta characteristic, heard on hundreds of Edison's and Victors nearly a decade later. So the likelihood of Banta's presence on Quinn's earliest records is VERY likely. 
This is what a single page of ledgers can unfold. 
See how great it is to have ledgers?





I still have a lot to write about from the conversations I had at ARSC, but in this post here I stuck with the things I could easily write on without several hours of searching for. Soon I hope to dig into the Boston Symphony archives to see if I can trace Hager's relationship with the BSO director and musicians in 1911-1912. That search may be opening a can of worms, but if anything becomes of it the opening will be worth it. This is only one more thing that will likely become a project in the near future! I also have been told where to find Victor Herbert's scrapbooks, and searching for those may also open up and sort out a lot of the confusion I have been coming to regarding his mixed relationship with recording companies. So anyway, I'll get to these things in the future after I can spend more time searching around for them. 

I cannot thank the ARSC members enough, who encouraged me to go and helped pay for my trip this year! Had a great time this year and was honored to meet and converse with so many great recording minds. I plan on attending next year's conference, hopefully you will all get to hear my piano playing at the next conference.  


For those of you who get them, look out for my article on Eddie King in The Syncopated Times coming out this month! Much of the writing I did here was pulled together for this piece. 
Hope you enjoyed this! 




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Friday, March 29, 2019

A Portrait of Frank P. Banta

Today we celebrate the birthday of Frank P. Banta, perhaps the most beloved studio musician of the entire acoustic era. 
It's hard to begin with this guy. 
I guess I could just write out an affectionate bio on him, just because I have gathered more information about him since the last biographical post on him. Well, here goes. 




Frank P. Banta was born on March 29th, 1870, the middle child of five. His father John was a woodcarver, a noble profession in Victorian New York, but perhaps more interesting is his mother's story. His mother  Fannie Darrow married first around 1863, but her first husband died quick, so she remarried an old man named John(Frank's father). Fannie was a rich girl, from a prominent old Dutch family of New Amsterdam. Her many sisters married prominent New York men of money, but she married a poor woodcarver in his middle age. Frank was the only musical child in the family, and it began to show quite early in his life. As a young child, Frank began to take up piano tuning, as his perfect pitch rendered him a skilled tuner. He started tuning pianos in factories, before they were sent off for sale. It was in this line that he began to develop a talent for playing the piano. His mother likely took notice of this tendency soon afterward, and got him some piano lessons. Though, it is likely that he didn't remain under the rule of a teacher for long, as his distinct style developed later proves for little training and more natural ability. 

Frank likely kept tuning pianos in his teen's to get some extra money, and also played some gigs here and there too. By 1888, his name was starting to appear in the papers as a specialty accompanist and arranger. His praises were already being sung before he was even 20. By 1890, he was playing in vaudeville houses all over New York, accompanying singers and instrumentalists of all kinds. Around 1892, Banta became associated with banjoist Vess L. Ossman. 
Ossmand and Banta advertised together, 1893. 

Somehow, in that same year, Banta was plucked out of the vaudeville houses to work for the three year old North American Phonograph Company. It's possible that Edward Issler recommended Banta to the North American/Edison management. Banta spent a few months of 1892 getting the training of phonograph accompaniment. Likely under the rule of Issler, Banta learned the phonograph ropes, and by 1893 was ready to work for them regularly. Other than working regularly with singers and other performers, Banta was often brought into the studios by special request of Vess Ossman, as they were still engaged together as an act at that point. Ossman as many recalled, was a very difficult man to work with. Someone as quiet and modest as Banta likely clashed with him often. Despite that, some of Ossman's best recordings have Banta's accompaniment, as they worked together perfectly in spite of their extreme differences. Banta likely learned how to work with these sort of performers by touring with Ossman, and it would inevitably come in handy as his years in the studios went on. 
Around 1895, Banta formed his own orchestra, a small parlor orchestra of about 6 musicians at most. Considering his close partnership with Issler, he formed this group to the striking likeness of Issler's orchestra. Banta's orchestra even recorded many of Issler's arrangements, such as "The virginia skedaddle", and "Her golden hair was hanging down her back". You can hear one of them below:
Banta is of course the announcer and the pianist. 
Banta' orchestra faded away from record catalogs by 1896, but at that point Banta was secured with Edison. 
By 1896, Banta was with Edison all the time, playing accompaniments for all who worked there, but of course it didn't take long for other companies to jump at him. As his praises continued to be sung by all, the Berliner gramophone company grabbed him in 1897 to replace the increasingly absent Fred Gaisberg. Berliner promised Banta more variety, and his own orchestra again. At Berliner, Banta led the Metropolitan orchestra, or at least sometimes. 
Banta was working for Edison and Berliner at the same time in 1898, seeming to equally balance his time at both. 
He had left the majority of his performing behind at this point, slaving away in two studios seemingly day and night. Some say that during his time recording, Banta was on half the recordings that Edison issued. Half. 

Half would mean thousands, perhaps more than that considering how early he started. 
In 1900, Banta, Arthur Pryor, Christopher Booth, Noble McDonald, and a few more Berliner musicians joined the newly formed Victor company. Each of these musicians made a piano solo for them in 1900 or in the few years afterward. Banta replaced his engagement with Berliner with that of Victor, working at Victor almost as much as he was at Edison. His distinct and steady accompaniments can be heard extremely well on Victors and Edison records during this time. he played everything from classical accompaniments to red hot rag-time. Here are two contrasting examples both from 1901:
His accompaniments are unmistakable, very steady, dynamic, and full of self taught eccentricities. 
His accompaniments influenced many of his fellow jealous recording pianists. Fred Hager and Justin Ring took especial liking to his pieces. 

This oddity of Banta's was only recorded by Hager's orchestra as far as I can find. 
Hager and Ring even mimicked Banta's smooth style of syncopation and dense chord choices in their own accompaniments. 
He continued to somehow balance all that work for Edison and Victor until 1903, where he had nearly completely exhausted himself with this work. 
During his later time at Edison, it was said that Banta's wife Liz worked in the studio as well. Liz was a studio secretary while Frank played accompaniments until he dropped. Frank and Liz married in late 1895, and their first child was the later famous novelty pianist Frank Edgar Banta. Somehow Frank was able to fit in time for another child in 1901, a daughter named Prudence(maybe that's somewhat related to that illusive middle initial of Frank's). 
Frank's children did not get to know him too well. As he was gone more than most men even in that time. Working for two record companies at once wasn't a family friendly concept in those days. 
Only when he became physically weak and ill from all that work did Frank realize this. In mid 1903, Frank was very weary of all this work, but his constant and determined personality dictated his place in the studios. he continued to show up to work every day he could, even though his asthma was getting worse, and time had already aged him quick, even at merely 33. 
Banta at one of Edison's Shoninger pianos, c.1899.

Banta came into work at Edison until the very day before he died. The day before he died in November of 1903, everyone expected him at work the next day as usual, not giving it much thought. But he died early the next morning. 
His absence rendered the piano at Edison silent that day. Legend has it at the Edison studio that no one came to work that day to mourn his death. 

But his story doesn't end there. When Jim Walsh corresponded with Dan W. Quinn in the 1930's, Quinn continued on to praise Banta. It seemed no one was so fond of Banta than Quinn. Quinn even named his youngest child after him. Now that's respect! 
It's Quinn's kind words and recollections about Banta that kept his reputation around, and it was carried on when Frank Edgar Banta was interviewed in the 1940's. Frank Edgar did not know his father well, he regretfully admitted this when asked about it. He recalled little of his father, but he did remember that his father was very humorous, rather quiet, and unfortunately ardent with work. He did recall his father inviting over many friends from work to play new songs(he didn't drop any studio names, but Quinn was almost certainly one of them, as was Ossman). His father would also sit with him at the piano to show him a few things, but these barely made it into his later developed style. 

Frank Edgar was 7 when his father died, and his sister Prudy only 2. 
Liz did not remarry after Frank died, but she continued to work into her old age. 


Well, with that, how about a few records he's on? His story is quite dramatic and somewhat depressing toward the end, so maybe some of his records could lighten the mood a bit here. 


(remember, Banta's name is on the original "Laughing song", he's listed as the arranger)
Banta was likely also responsible for this piece too. 







Happy listening! 


Hope you enjoyed this! 










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Friday, February 15, 2019

Recent Research Travels

In the last week and a half, I have been on quite a journey, to Southern California. 

Just over a week ago, I returned from a 5 day trip via train to Santa Barbara and then to Los Angeles proper. I mentioned at the very end of my last post that i would be visiting UCSB, and that's exactly what I did. In the weeks leading up to my visit, I spent hours combing through the lists of what Santa Barbara's library holds in terms of early disc records, picking out things I wanted to see when I visited. The requests kept piling up, until I had about 40 records to listen to when I called. The amount of records were astounding, so many things that ought to be beautiful, and how they were. After a day of frustrating but in the end pleasant train travel the previous day, I finally found my way to where the special collections are kept on campus, I was led to their modest reading room overlooking the beautiful mountains. I was entirely at peace, sitting there in the quiet listening to these 40 or so records, and writing notes down on each one, it was heavenly. 
I don't want to share every single image I
took of these records, as it's quite a few, but these are a few of the standouts from the little collection I requested:
(yes I took pictures of every record I requested, just for my personal reference)

(Keep in mind that this is nowhere near everything else I heard from the stack)
So...why did I go through so much to do this? What would be the point of doing this if i couldn't take the transfers with me? Well, as I stated above, I took very detailed notes on each record, more particularly the Zon-O-Phone's. The reason I went though as much as I did to come and see these records was to study two dozen early Zon-O-phone's to try and build a better foundation for the 2(or three) pianists that worked for Zon-O-phone from 1899-1907(or so). For example, when I picked out the records to listen to, I specifically chose a few doubles of the same song by different artists, but on the same label. The most telling example I chose were 2 versions of "strike up the band, here comes the sailor". The versions I chose were both recorded on Zon-O-phone in the same year, but by Edward M. Favor and Billy Heins(I posted a picture of the Heins version above). One thing that became very evident about these takes was that it was certainly the same pianist on both of them. But what does that mean?
Well, I am recalling now how I described one of the takes in my notebook, one take was much more precise and took stranger risks at the times for solos. The take I was previously more familiar with was the Heins take, with the familiar and extremely well executed "sailor's hornpipe" at the very end, the Favor take had this ending also, but somehow they found the time to place the same tag in the middle of the record!(very hastily and sloppily I might add). You can hear a not too great transfer here: 
This take is the better one overall, much better composed and thought out, the accompaniment anyway, Heins was always great. The two choruses of "sailor's hornpipe" seemed very improvised on the Favor take as I'm recalling now. But it's assuring to know that it's the same pianist on both, which isn't entirely surprising, but good to know. 

So did I come to any conclusions? Well, not really. I was hoping that hearing 35 more early Zon-O-phone's would solve my issues with Zono's accompanists, but it really didn't in the end. But there were some interesting things I observed about two records in particular. 
These two were particularly fascinating. I went back and listened to them perhaps half a dozen times each because of the accompaniments. The first one i would immediately assume to have the so-called Hager style accompaniment, and the second to have the Justin Ring accompaniment, and yes they did. But what about them made them so fascinating? 
Well, the first one is definitely the most unusual Zon-O-phone I've ever heard in terms of accompaniment. Denny sings the song very slow, and the accompanist follows in the most unusual and playful way, here are the notes I wrote about it:

Record 16--Goo Goo eyes by Denny, 1901 etched Lyre Zono. very funny and exaggerated intro and very playful as well as dynamic accompaniment. sung very slow by Denny, definitely an outstanding accompaniment...That pianist has got to be Hager: so dynamic, playful, humorous, adventurous, and full of odd syncopation as well as fifths and chords in the left hand for extra emphasis. rolled ending chords, can't forget the absolute precision and daintiness! 

So you can probably observe that I think that pianist is Hager. I am really starting to think that that strange and very distinct early Zon-O-Phone pianist is Hager, and thanks to a few passed down accounts of Hager's accompaniment, I am becoming increasingly certain of this. All of these characteristics seem to fit perfectly with what I gather of his personality, which is also quite nice. So, what about the second one above? That one was also just as good as the Denny from 1901, despite it being from the very end of the piano accompaniment era(1904). Already, the song proves for some good accompaniment to be expected(that's why I chose it!). If you haven't already heard it, here's a 1904 Columbia of it also by Bob Roberts:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder10595
This song is already bluesy and well composed, so the accompaniment on the Zon-O-Phone I heard was no less. This record especially stood out because of the repeated use of many different early blues motifs(and this was recorded in 1904). It was definitely not the same pianist as the 1901 Zono I paired with it. The pianist is very similar, but it's not the same person. This pianist is the other familiar Zon-O-phone pianist, with the less dynamic and more aggressive touch that was common on many later Zono's with piano accompaniment. For this 1904 Zono, here were my notes:

Record 17--Wouldn't it make you Hungry by Roberts, 1904 brown 9-inch Zono. Very bluesy accompaniment exaggerated syncopation, every core blues motif present. This is likely Justin Ring! There are also bits of walking bass, very similar syncopation to that of Ring's "sweet potatoes" and "jovial Joe". 

Yeah, that pretty much sums up the pianist on later Zon-O-phone's. So I think that pianist is Ring, just logically, and considering his own rags and arrangements written around the same time. When I got back, I made sure to cross reference all the Zono's I had heard before with the corresponding labels, and pianists I think are the same. 
For the Denny record, I used these for cross reference:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ITot33CDuo
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qi8K8iKZyXM

And for the Roberts I used these: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVP33Ix8sp0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaTarCSS6gc

The accompaniments pretty much line up quite well with the assumed accompanists. The different styles fit pretty solidly into the periods that I associate them with. Occasionally I have heard standouts from this pattern, as I have heard a Zon-O-phone from 1901 where the pianist really sounds like the Justin Ring pianist, and I have heard teal label Zono's from 1902-03 that have that Hager accompanist on them. Naturally this would not be the case all the time, just thinking of this logically. Of course Hager and Ring would cross over often, it wouldn't always be Ring at a certain period of time, or vice versa. 

So aside from the majority of Zon-O-phone's I studied at UCSB, the few Berliners and Columbia's I chose were beautiful as expected, I listened to George Schweinfest play "Sand Dance" a dozen times, as it was so loud and clear, as well as catchy as hell. The melodies are so nice in that seemingly modest piece, but they are haunting. I have bits of that record run through my head still. I should say in referring to a popular 1890's song, "her smile haunts me still", Schweinfest's playing haunts me still. To keep an even amount of space to tell the gist of this long tale, I will move along to the next phase of my travels. I will come back to some more of these records I saw and heard at UCSB in the next few posts. 



The following day, after another 3 hour train ride, I got into LA proper, met with a friend that evening and was beyond excited for the day ahead. The next day I went to visit John Levin. I listen to brown wax every day, and a large percentage of these brownies are from the collection of Mr. Levin. So with this in mind you could imagine the overwhelming anticipation and excitement this brought me. I can barely describe the amount of extraordinary things I saw in his collection. I am still remembering little details of my 8 hour visit over a week removed. I only took two pictures from this visit, as it seemed I had no time to take out my phone, and out of kind courtesy I remained disciplined and intensely focused on the cabinets full of priceless brown wax. When he gave me the tour, there was drawer after drawer of every shade of brown, channel rims, and handwritten slips of every kind. he has two cabinets and three drawers full of Issler's orchestra records. There was a drawer of Kansas City Talking machine records, dozens of original wooden cases of U.S. records, and record boxes of every kind, some I could have never even conceived of existing. 
Here's the one crappy picture I took of any brownies he had. Look at that beautiful channel rim!
he allowed me to choose any bunch of records I wanted to hear, and those records I chose were:
"Echoes from the Snowball club" by Issler's orchestra(1898)
"La Paloma" by Issler's Orchestra(c.1895)
"Dora Dean" by Leachman(1898)
"The Cocoanut Dance" by Ossman(c.1893)
"The Cocoanut Dance" banjo solo by James Dunn of Kansas City(c.1897)
"African Wedding Dance(cake-walk)" by Issler's orchestra(c.1894)
"The Cat Came Back"(The singer's name escapes me now) North American record(1893)

That's quite a bunch! I had always wanted to hear Issler's "african wedding dance", as I assumed it to be a cake-walk or negro dance of some kind, an important thing to look for in studying early rag-time. To add to the significance of that particular record, Len Spencer does the calls as usual, and at the beginning Spencer states, "all ready for the cake walk!". 
There ya go folks, that's one of the earliest authentic references to the cake-walk on a record as far as I've heard. Why is it not surprising that it comes from Spencer? 
In keeping with my formula for studying pianists through cross referencing, I naturally chose two versions of the same song by different banjoists, I'm referring to the takes of "The Cocoanut Dance". Recently this particular piece has become especially interesting to me, as it's a great example of a dynamic and well composed negro dance, the direct predecessor to Rag-time. This piece was written in 1891 by Andrew Hermann, and was recorded countless times since that year, recorded as late as 1907. The Ossman version was interesting because it was a very early take, recorded almost certainly before 1895. I have been wanting to study more of Ossman's early recordings, as I would like to think that he dragged Banta into the studio to make them. Also, I think that Ossman played very slightly differently in his earlier days, his playing seemed a bit smoother and technically more odd. 
But the Kansas City "Cocoanut Dance" was something very different. I had never heard of James Dunn, but of course the label and banjo playing was entirely attractive to me no matter what. Those Kansas City records were all originals, so each one sounded superior, and this particular "Cocoanut Dance" was nothing less. It was swung and ragged in a way that one could expect from a record made in Kansas City in the mid-1890's, pretty much already sounding like Rag-Time, despite the piece being published several years before. The accompaniment was quite modest from what I remember, but there were points where the pianist followed with the swing quite well, but others where it kind of broke down(in a bad way) and got out of whack. 

The Leachman was special. It was one of those so highly prized brownies he made at home in the 1890's, but this particular far surpasses even the "Wedding of the Chinee and the Coon'' that's transferred online. https://archive.org/details/ChineeandtheCoonLeachman99
Well, for one thing, this other Leachman wasn't nearly as messy as the one in the link above. I recall that his own accompaniment on this "Dora Dean" brownie was fantastic, eccentric, and ragged as usual. Despite Leachman's handicap of being barely able to read any music, his piano playing is about as close as we can ever get to hearing an authentic itinerant Chicago pianist of the pre-ragtime era. Aspects of his playing are reminiscent to those of the rags of William Krell and even the accompaniments of Fred Hylands. I cannot stress enough how significant Leachman's accompaniments are, if you could hear how I would be passionately speaking about this it might help. 
Soon I will be able to very well dissect and study Leachman's accompaniment on his "Dora Dean". For now his odd humming chorus is forever going to reappear in my mind. That song is awfully catchy. 


After we got a few things transferred, he took me downstairs to see his disc record collection. Several hours earlier I spoke to him of my mission to dissect those two(0r three) Zon-O-Phone pianists, he took note of this as we poked around in the basement. As he began searching for a stack of Zon-O-Phone's, I was standing by attentively hypnotized on all the records surrounding, and he ever so modestly handed me a stack of about 15 5-inch Berliner's, like it was nothing.
"Here--look through these while I find the 7-inch Zon-O-phone's"
5-inch Berliners! The first commercially made disc records in history. 
Soon I spied an oddly shaped green box I had never seen before. 
The box looked like this:
(of course on the 12 hour train ride back I drew a cartoon that included this little box)
Yep, that's what it was, a Zon-O-phone record case. This case was intended for 9-inch records, and it was a nice shade of green. 
In this case, there were a handful of Zon-O-phone's that we listened to, including the one below:

Of course, pandering to my odd feelings about Hager's violin playing. But that aside, this record was fascinating, as it's quite upbeat compared to the other material Hager recorded violin solos of. So logically the pianist on that would have to be Justin Ring, right? Well yes, and actually, I must say that the accompaniment had similar aspects to that aggressive accompanist that I associate as Ring. 
In this bonus Zon-O-phone stack, there were a few Rosa Chalia records, despite those being operatic, I am very much interested in those, as I am almost certain that the accompanist on those(her Zono's that is) is Hager. It can't really be Ring, as Hager spent a few years in music school to study every kind of music, opera most certainly included. Keep in mind that I still do not know what Ring was doing in the late 1890's, but it's quite possible the two met while both in music school. 
Here's the best example I've heard so far:
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNBttBFasPA
It helps that Chalia was a great singer, and luckily since these ones I heard were on Zon-O-Phone, the piano was well recorded, but quiet as usual for them. 

There were a few Hager's and Zon-O-Phone orchestra records in this little stack, each one good as expected, and luckily all of his Zono's were in great shape, so each one sounded nearly new. 

When I got back to where I was staying, I was drained mentally and emotionally. It felt like I was recovering from an 8 hour long high, as it was so much to process. I'm still processing all that I saw that day. 


Anyway, there's a lot more for me to talk about from the last few weeks, but it's getting late as I'm writing this, and I would like to finish this post in one shot. In the next post I will speak of the illusive Eddie King, and how he's becoming a more significant figure in my studies each day. 


Hope you enjoyed this! 












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Wednesday, June 6, 2018

A Mystery Partially solved and words from Banta

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. 
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:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder14095
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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