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:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5245
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!
