A perfect caricature and more slowed down transfers

We begin to-day's post with a caricature.

Who's that freakishly tall weirdo with the music?

IT'S FRED HYLANDS!

This morning, Charlie Judkins sent me this fantastic cartoon from Judge magazine mocking much of the Union work that Hylands did, and other things of that sort, as he stated that the cartoonist, Art Young, was a prominent leader among the new unions that were sprouting up in New York from 1902 to 1910, and it seems that he at some point encountered Hylands as one of the blunt leaders of the White Rats Union. 

Everything about the caricature is right! Everything about Hylands there is exhibited at its best, and makes it just as funny as it needs to be. The real thing that made me convinced that this was Hylands is the fact that he's wearing the costume in this picture:

Yes indeed. 

This caricature exhibits everything that I do when I make fun of how weird he was! And yes, finally a way to at last end the glasses debate. 

This cartoon will be used as a final addition to my seminar on Hylands for next month.

Many of these newly slowed down transfers that Ryan Wishner and I have been working on are being uploaded to the Internet Archive, for all to access, and with that, I will share some of the latest additions to the collection of these that he and I are amassing in our files. The first two files that will be shared are two different recordings of the same song by Len Spencer. The older take is is terrible shape, but the first half of the cylinder can be heard somewhat well, though I would advise to give up on the second part, because it's such a bad and messy transfer. It's by far the most interesting version I've heard of the song though, regardless of the awful mess of mold. 
Here is the older take of "My Gal is a High Born Lady":
https://archive.org/details/MyGalIsAHighBornLadywHylandsc1897
It's awfully messy, but it's a genuinely interesting take as far as these records go. It almost sounds like it's from 1897, but really can't be that early because of the prominent syncopation, and that was almost nonexistent on Columbia records from 1896-1897(it was there, but not as lumbering and powerful as when Hylands was there). It sounds like a Columbia record more than anything else, but it doesn't help that Spencer says not any company name in the announcement. In fact, it sounds like those pirated Columbia records from 1897-1899, and since no company is announced, that's likely. Also, it must be noted that Spencer's singing sounds like it does when he was tipsy, as it's not very in tune with the piano, and the dialect is over-exaggerated(in the best possible way!), which are both aspects of his singing in that state. It's a great comparison of different takes to this later version here:
https://archive.org/details/LenSpencerMyGalisaHighbornLady1898
They are completely different from each other, yet they are the same song by the same singer, and likely the same pianist believe it or not. This record also sounds like Spencer's a little tipsy(which is great!) but really as much so as the older take, his pitch is much better on this take, in fact, it actually very good compared to other records of his. Of course like most Hylands and Spencer records, these two are great examples of early Rag-Time. 

The next one is a record by:

and 

Frank P. Banta! 
(still love that look on his face)
This record has been on the Internet Archive for many years, and I have heard it so many times, really hoping to hear it at the correct speed sometime, and now it's so!
Here you go:
https://archive.org/details/MyMoneyNeverGivesOutwBanta1902
It's now at an even, slightly flat A flat, which is rather normal for a recording of  the era. Banta's playing on this record is phenomenal, with a good variety of syncopation types and characteristics, with that equalling and Rag-Time recording of Collins with Hylands from the same time. This record is just as good as this 1898 cylinder by Collins and Banta:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8650
Banta was such a great Rag-Time pianist, though he was not as natural to the style as Hylands. There are times where Banta sounds just a good as Hylands, such as the record just above, and this one here(this record is among the top examples of brown wax Rag-Time out there). 

This next one is by

Dan Quinn! 
In fact, the image just above of him was taken around the same time that this recording was made. This is one that has had time to circulate around Youtube and the internet in general, but this is the superior transfer of this record from David Gionannoni's fantastic Grammy winning CD Dan W. Quinn, the King of Comic Singers, of which I have mentioned often on this blog, as it is a phenomenal CD with even better liner notes to accompany. Here's the best transfer out there of Quinn and Gaisberg's November 3, 1895 Berliner of "The Streets of Cairo":
https://archive.org/details/TheStreetsOfCairobyQuinnandGaisberg1895
I have used this record before to illustrate points related to Quinn's accidental involvement in the "Little Egypt" scandal of later 1896, as this is the song that really caught the essence of the "Hoochie Koochie" craze. It's a fantastic example of what Berliner record sounded like before their more commercial operation began in 1897, when each one was made with special care, and when it was essentially a family run business, with Mr. Berliner and a bunch of teenage boys running the studio to keep everything in line. 

This next one is also by Quinn, but this time he's with his "man crush" Frank P. Banta. It's one that didn't need that much slowing down, but the bass was turned all the way up and slowed down ever so slightly to turn out great! 
Here's Quinn's famous 1902 recording of "More Work for the Undertaker". If you listen to the original take, of which you can hear in this link here, it's a very slight change like that that will make such an immense difference. I have always envisioned this record sounding the way it does on the newly slowed down transfer, and now I won't listen to it any other way, since it sounds so dark, pure, and natural; as these recordings were supposed to sound. 

The final recording to exhibit in this post is the edited version of Johnson and Issler's 1891 cylinder of "The Whistling Coon", which sounds so much better now that it's slower, and all of the syncopation is very well heard and can be deciphered. Here you go:
https://archive.org/details/GeorgeWJohnsonWhistlingCoonIssler1891

It sounds just as it's supposed to now. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Re-visiting the Early studio rules

It has been a long while since I have specifically spoken of the loose studio rules of the 1890's recording business. This fascinating and very understudied subcategory of 1890's recording has always been kicked aside from how shameful many of the oldest surviving studio stars behaved when speaking of this. Someone like Dan Quinn would have been infamous for shunning all of his old colleagues for their awful drinking habits, though he was part of it to some extent. He did not drink, but he did not offer to help any of his suffering friends.

 A cartoon I did mocking Quinn's temperance, and Hylands' carelessness. 

Of course, to Quinn, none of that mattered when Hylands was getting him much more profits from selling sheet music with his picture on it. With all of this sin, to Quinn's judgement, the studios were rife with impropriety, from the day that Russell Hunting decided to make those smut cylinders in 1892. It was clear that Columbia was a much more free, yet somewhat indecent place compared to the proper and tightly restricted Edison company. 

Quinn and J. J. Fisher must have found Edison a much more properly run place to work and make records than Columbia, as there was no drinking allowed, and certainly no drugs of any kind as well. It helps that at Edison their studio pianists had good intentions and habits. The Rag-Time pianist even had the kindest demeanor and best habits, and that is a real thing! Columbia was the place for the progressives and hustlers to work, under free and democratic conditions that allowed any means of doing so. Edison was for those who wanted a clean and good place to work overall, where the singers and performers were not integrated into the staff and management. There's a reason that Edison cylinders all sound the same to some extent. 

Columbia was where the genius misfits worked, from their beginning, that was how it was. It was much like how Berliner was at the same time. In the mid-1890's, Berliner was an interesting place to work, as Fred Gaisberg was able to tell the tales of working there in his writings for all of us to later read. He saw pretty much everything that we know about the inner workings of early Berliner. Now to refer back to the title of this post, Gaisberg had to once deal with this chap:

George Graham. 
 Graham was the infamous drunk that those young Berliner team workers got a big laugh out of when he made records in 1895-96. Gaisberg once described that he and the other young Berliner staff had to make a stand for him when he made records, since he would often get so drunk that he couldn't stand straight. It was all fun and games for the Berliner team, as dealing with him was much more fun than it needed to be. Of course, Gaisberg found this despicable, as he was against having the artists drink in studios, but his colleagues couldn't help but enjoy his shenanigans. 
You can hear a few of his great records here.
He's fascinating to listen to, regardless of the often slurred and hard-to-understand statements and words. Gaisberg was one of those early studio people who found drinking in studios to be shameful to the company's reputation, even though the fact would not have been spread anyway, he just did not like it one bit. It was a good thing that Gaisberg was working at Berliner while the Columbia people were becoming that elite group in 1897, and especially when Fred Hylands came in. 

Columbia's drinking rules were almost non-existent in the late-1890's, as the management trusted their studio stars enough to allow drinking in their main studio rooms. As can be expected, there were the studio stars who drank most every time they came in the studio, and there were those who didn't do so nearly at all. As can be guessed, one of the worst drinkers after the infamous George Graham, was...

Len Spencer.
There aren't really many examples of formal writings about his drinking, but there are hints of it when looking through The Phonoscope, as he was one of the most frequently mentioned studio stars there. One of the best hints of this was a section from the August 1898 issue of you know what:

Hmm. That's a good hint mister Hunting. I wonder if it's the same watch that we can see the top of the chain in the picture of him above...
We know that Spencer drank, regardless of reading about it or not, as his records oftentimes show for it, if you're listening close enough that is. I have heard many of Spencer's great brown waxes from 1897-1901, and they never fail to please, no matter what the tune be. Some are better than others as can be expected from him, and much of this is due to his studio drinking. He was just getting started with doing this by 1896 and 1897, but when Hylands came in, well, it was just going to get worse from there. Since Hylands had such a high alcohol tolerance(durr, the man was over six feet tall and three hundred pounds...), the drinking with him was almost daily when he came to the studio. Oftentimes, the good thing about Hylands was that when he drank, it took a while for things to start getting weird in his playing and speech, not that his speech wasn't already hard to understand...  
One good example of how strange his playing could get is his mid-1899 take of "Turkey in the Straw" with Billy Golden. It is very strange, quick, and far too complicated for most ear players to understand. It's not tame at all, as I have heard some recordings he made in 1899 with some of his publishing firm friends that sound completely sane and are much less scattered than the one listed in the link. His playing still got weird even before 1899 when he was the leader of Hylands Spencer and Yeager, as you can hear his weird and very unsteady playing on most of George W. Johnson's records from 1898 to 1900, including this one here, and also on this one.  It's strange, I have heard a few Dan Quinn Columbia records from 1898-1900 where Hylands sounds drunk, but of course Quinn isn't, and that is very strange to some extent, as I would think that Quinn(according to his letters from the 1930's) would have demanded that Hylands not drink when he made records, and would have found it despicable, but I guess not. But then again, I have also heard records where Hylands sounds just fine behind Quinn, not(technically)weird or unsteady. 
Like I've told my friend Ryan Wishner, sometimes Hylands was not exactly harmonically right in the head, which always makes for interesting listening, but many of his style characteristics in this sense were not common for the time period.  This was not helped when he drank in the studios. 

A good example of all three of the performers being pretty tipsy on is one that I have shared before for this very purpose, but it always gets the point across. Here's Spencer and Harding's "Larboard Watch" from 1899, with Hylands of course. This one always gets the point, as the first thing to notice is Spencer's announcement, which I have heard a few times sounding like it does on this cylinder. It's certainly not his more swift and lively announcements that we can hear on many of those Columbia orchestra recordings from the same time, such as on this one here from 1897. The announcement on the "Larboard Watch" cylinder reminds me a little of his on this one here. 

And yes, back to the Spencer and Harding cylinder, Harding drank indeed, as being one of Hylands' close publishing associates wouldn't allow for being Mr. Temperance like Quinn. Hylands and Harding were also good composer friends in 1898 to 1901, as we know of Harding's venture into being a composer was a much talked of subject among the "Columbia Clan" and the other record company staffs around in that period. Such as this pretty piece of music:

Hylands also published this in 1899, but I cannot seem to find his publication of it. This is from a little bit later. Harding was a prominent member under Hylands' rule of the publishing firm, so it's no surprise to hear him sing not very well with Spencer on a Columbia from around the time that the firm began. He was also the one who opened that phonograph parlor in 1897 to later have gatherings there with all the Columbia stars, so Harding was another one of those studio drinkers. Of course, he couldn't drink as much as Spencer and Hylands because he was so much smaller than they were.
A recording I would love to use in proving this point on Spencer's part is his 1899 recording of "Warmest Baby in the Bunch", but I can't do that. I will say, however, that that cylinder is a fantastic example of Hylands and Spencer's great musical understanding, but also a great example of what they both sounded like when very tipsy, as that is the most extreme of the exampled I have heard as far as Spencer and Hylands go. Hylands gets all weird and pushy with the rhythm, but the problem is that Spencer isn't much better in that aspect. It's kind of a mess, but it sounds fine if you're not really nitpicking everything on the record. It's becomes more interesting when you're doing that though. The record is a mess, but it has a lot of strange aspects to the piano playing that Hylands didn't usually play, whether drunk or sober. Since this was all true in Columbia's late-1890's studio, it makes listening much more interesting for those who have ears that can hear those mistakes and off-key singing. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

The Zon-O-Phone and Berliner Dilemma

It has been established before on this blog that the hardest recordings for pianist identification happens to be Zon-O-Phone records and Berliners, as they were the least known of as far as ledgers go, and they didn't bother to offer some of the best identification on their labels sometimes(this is more so with Zon-O-Phones). Berliner at least tried to make an effort to make their labels clear with all the ledger information that we all was to know, like specific dates, take numbers, the singer or performer, and the accompanist on the rarest occasion. Zon-O-phone's sometime were lacking in many of these, sometimes even the identification of the singer or performer. Oftentimes, they would just say "Banjo solo", or "Baritone". It doesn't at all help when that is all that's given. Since I have been listening to more Zono's lately, I have been able to find that the etched label ones are the harder to tell with the piano accompaniment. I had hypothesized that before, but now I have really started to notice it. 

The etched Zono's are harder to tell because they more often had varying pianists on them, which makes for always interesting listening, but more problems when trying to listen for a certain piano style. More styles are being thrown at the listener when digging through etched Zono's. It's not the same three pianists that we hear most often on Edison and Columbia. We can hear them on Zon-O-phone's though, you just have to find which ones. 

Most etched Zono's I've heard have pianists that are either Frank P. Banta, or have a similar style to his, which makes sense, since Hylands was working regularly at Columbia from 1900 to late-1901. As I have been hearing though, there are anomalies. I heard one that is an etched label Zono that clearly has Hylands on piano, as it has pretty much all of his stylings, from the walking octaves in the bass, to the sneaked fifths in the left hand. It really is strange to hear Hylands on an etched Zon-O-phone though, but it does make sense. 



Whomever was running Zon-O-phone from their beginning to 1903 really must have been all-right with anything from the pianists, since they really did play some of the best and most wild Rag-Time that was recorded in the second half of the piano accompaniment era. Columbia's late brown waxes cannot even top the amount of phenomenal examples of Rag-Time from Zon-O-phone records from 1901-1904. Even the band and orchestra Rag-Time was exceptional, since this chap was running their house orchestras:

youngster Fred Hager.
(from the September, 1898 issue of The Phonoscope)

Hager was an extraordinary bandleader, and remained in the business longer than any of his late-1890's colleagues. Since he was part of the "Rag-Time Generation", he understood the style of music very well, and this is why the recordings by his orchestra are almost always guaranteed to be good, especially the Rag-Time. He wasn't the one running that studio though, allowing that wild Rag-Time piano accompaniment to pass. Whatever manager that was at Zon-O-phone, they were just as up-to-date as Russell Hunting was in 1916! Along these lines, it would seem that Zon-O-phone had more of an "anything goes" type of atmosphere than Columbia did in 1899! That is really saying a lot in this case. 

One we get to 1902, the piano accompaniment is not as confusing on these Zono's. That is because we begin to hear a more distinctly and familiar style, one that is not from Banta, Issler, Bachmann or C.H. Booth. It's Hylands this time. I have explained before why Hylands was more frequently in Zon-O-phone's studio. I will go through it once more to clearly tie this together. 




In early 1902, Hylands had grown far too cross with the Columbia management, even if he had been this way since 1898 something must have made him snap one of these days. It took until early 1902 for him to become vocal about beginning a union. So that's exactly what he did, he began this union around March of that year, and the Columbia management were furious about this, and in their anger they told him to leave for a short while until this fire burnt out. While he was infrequently working for Columbia, he went to Zon-O-phone where they had welcomed him before, but this time it was for a more desperate matter. They took it to enjoy Hylands in their studio, as he was much more interesting than Banta was before. To their amusement, he was interesting both in his playing, and in his behavior that varied from day to day, so it was certainly a mirthful few months for studio workers there. During this period, we are given the most amazing examples of piano Rag-Time accompaniment, just as good as those late-1890's Columbia cylinders, well, since they're by the same pianist it helps. Just goes to show you that when those theater managers said Hylands was one of the best accompanists of the day, they really meant it. 
This period sparked by discontent gave us records such as these here: 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TEI6K0esFj4

https://ia802300.us.archive.org/31/items/ArthurCollins_part2/ArthurCollins-TheManWhoPlayedtheTamborin.mp3

The piano accompaniment on these is phenomenal. Both of these recordings have Hylands playing the accompaniment, playing all sorts of his usual tricks that can easily be heard on Columbia records from the same time and a little bit before then as well. 

Of course, like everything Hylands got his hands into, it failed within two months, so the union thing didn't last, and he understood very well that it didn't work and was destined to from the start. Even after the union bust, he still worked for Zon-O-phone and Columbia, as he can be heard in 1903 still playing there behind Collins, Ossman, Denny, and everyone else that was featured there. 
There are still plenty of amazing Zon-O-phone's from 1902-04 with piano accompaniment that I have yet to hear, but after hearing some more lately, it is becoming ever more complicated with every new one I hear. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Issler and Schweinfest, and other early piano solos

Yesterday evening, I spoke with Ryan Wishner about that book entitled Tantalizing Tingles which is essentially a full master book on all the piano solo records made in the acoustic era to the beginning of the electric age. The first few records mentioned in this book are said to be duets. Piano duets! But by whom? Well, as Ryan told me, they were by these two here:

Duets! By these two? Apparently so. I could not believe such a thing, but when you think about it, this duet idea creates a deeper connection between the two members of Issler's orchestra. Pianists who believe their styles are somewhat similar and trustworthy play duets, since I know what that's like, I can somewhat understand why these two would have enough trust in each other to make a handful of duets. I am waiting see the full list of titles of tunes they recorded at this session, but it can be very well assumed that a list is out there, because record lists from so early on exist out there. You can see a section of these surviving lists on this video here. The pianist is stated... ugh.... If only Columbia lists were left...

Anyhow, these duets were made around the end of 1889, probably close to the date listed on the list in the video above, also for the same company listed, North American. The first thing that came to mind upon mentioning these probably extraordinary records was;

How did they balance it?

Well, one thing is for sure, that couldn't have been easy. Since one of the pianists was Issler, we do know that it was well done, however it was done so. Issler's studio genius certainly would have been tested when making these records, but he probably came up with a solution. It is very hard to imagine how those would have been recorded, usually I can get an image, but with this one it's a little hard. It's not like the sound on this one here from 1898. This one gives a clear image of Columbia's big room upstairs at 27th and Broadway, from Harry Spencer's SHOUTED ANNOUNCEMENT(I had to listen a few times to make sure that it was Spencer, the shouting makes it hard to tell...), the trombone playing far back in the room, to Hylands' loud piano playing just to the left of the horns. However Issler made those records, it was most likely upon his obliging that he and Schweinfest make those duets. As we know, these were made not long after Issler formed his Parlor Orchestra in 1888, so after getting to know each other for a little while, they both found talent on the piano between the two of them. Yes, we know of Schweinfest of making records like this one here, but he did play piano somewhat, and now as I have explained, played better than just a little. 

It is very unlikely for any of these cylinders to exist, as they were probably made on white-wax records, which almost guarantees that there aren't any surviving copies. As Ryan told me, if they were made a few years later on Berliner, there is a more likely chance of surviving copies. 

In this book, they mention many recorded piano solos by C. H. H. Booth:

(from the Phonoscope)

If you know anything about Booth, you'd probably know that he was an early studio pianist, who was known mostly for operatic Victors, playing behind Luiza Tetrazzini, and Enrico Caruso. Booth did in fact make a handful of piano solos for Berliner in the mid-late 1890's. One of his prominent, and surviving ones is a tune titled "Wild West Galop" which must be a fantastic record, just by how  the title sounds. Booth was a very high-class Victorian pianist, so he was no Frank Banta or Fred Hylands, so according to what a "Galop" was, and to Booth's background, it is probably a very authentic Victorian piano solo. By this, it probably includes the rapid speed changes, and the unsteady rhythm that we know of from Fred Gaisberg. Ryan indicated to me that the famed solo Gaisberg made of "The Honeymoon March" was also listed within the pages. 

(that's Gaisberg in Japan. LOVE THIS PICTURE!)

Anyone notice the writing on the side? It says ,"Good Morning Carrie!" Hilarious.

Anyhow, Gaisberg was reported to have made this solo in 1892, when he was only 19, for the few of Berliner's men who were out in the Washington D. C. area before 1894 and 1895. Without further a-do, here's that record:

http://memory.loc.gov/mbrs/berl/13257.mp3

It's obviously a Berliner made in 1892, as the speed can't seem to stay at a uniform pace, and it's not just because of Gaisberg, it's mostly because it was recorded in the era of the hand-cranked Gram-O-Phone. That machine is probably what it was recorded on anyway, which doesn't help with a constant speed. It was probably recorded on something similar to this here:

In fact, you can actually see one of these in action here!

Of all the tedious methods of recording in the 1890's, the hand-cranked Berliner takes the cake. I can see Sinkler Darby or Berliner himself standing behind the horn cranking that machine while Gaisberg is playing(somewhat nervously...) on that solo record...

I forgot to mention that at the same 1889 session that Issler and Schweinfest recorded a bunch of their own solos as well, which also must have been a great feat, as recording the piano in 1889 was something that was still being figured out by studio workers. That early on, I don't think that even Len Spencer had figured out how to record the piano very well. When Spencer was making his first records in 1888 and 1889 for Columbia, he must have been experimenting with the piano balancing, even though Frank Dorian only recounted that Spencer would set five phonographs on a piano and set the horns down toward the keyboard, and that was it. Though, thinking of Spencer's age(21-22) and impulses, he certainly would have done some other things to understand balancing other than just what Dorian described. It's Len Spencer, and it would just make full sense for him to want to experiment. Hopefully, this section from The Phonoscope comes to mind for some when thinking of young Len Spencer:

Yep, chimes records indeed. How that crazy privileged Spencer was always experimenting. 

Anyway, I am awaiting replies from my friends who own this book about any information on Hylands that might exist in the book. They do have a bunch of information on Frank B. Banta and Schweinfest, so they better have something on Hylands! 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

A record slip and other surviving relics of Columbia

Now I have explained the fact that Columbia's ledgers were destroyed in the 1970's, by whatever means were used to rid of all of this precious history. There are some small means of knowing some record information about Columbia records prior to 1901, but it's a terribly complex venture to follow. There aren't complete catalogs existing from 1890's Columbia out there, with recording dates, personnel information, and everything else we need to know other than record numbers and the label, but there are small sections out there that I have seen within the past few years. One of these little things is this here:

with a little section of it here:

These both came from an edition of The Rag-Time Ephemeralist.

I didn't have the chance to actually hold the thing in my hands(unlike an actual Berliner catalog from 1898!), but it would have been a real interesting experience to do so. As something like this is actually the best example of what exists of Columbia's 1890's ledgers. They aren't very specific, with not all the information we really want, but there's enough here to where much of the information could easily be interpreted or assumed safely. The singer isn't listed here in the two examples above, but it very clearly those of Len Spencer, by the numbering system(Spencer's Columbia's number from 7200 to just over 7500 by the way). That's usually a good indication of who's records are who's, as at Columbia, most regular artists were assigned a specific numbering system, after 1895 that is. Before 1895, they didn't really have that, even though they had hints of it sometimes(many of these early titles with old numbers re-recorded with different numbers, which were later recorded again with that second number they were given), it's a little confusing, but once you see lots of Columbia's, one can start to memorize which numbers go with who. Speaking of that, my good friend Tom Hawthorn has a book that is an actual guide to the numberings of Columbia's in the 1890's, and each artist was listed!(couldn't find Fred Hylands listed in the index though, shame on them). 

The record slips I have with my brown wax Columbia's are not originals though, as the originals from old Columbia are sometimes a little hard to read. For those of you who collect early disc records, you might know of the American Record company, one of their records can be seen here:

(from my own collection)

Other than the brilliant blue coloured shellac, and the beautifully styled label, the thing about these records that can be a problem is being able to read the title and performer on the label. This example seen above is a better example, but since the title was stamped on there, the ink can be very faded on many examples of these records. Obviously, the one above has fared better with the ailments of time, all the information is clearly able to be read. Now to connect this back to the Columbia subject, the readability of the label on these "blue Americans" as they are called(though I have a friend who owns a black one of these records...) can be compared to those record slips that came with Columbia cylinders, which were stamped onto the sheets of paper, and that was it.  Here is an example of this my good friend Ryan found on Ebay within this past week:

Yes, see what I mean, it's very hard to read. Here's what it says:

Cake Walk

no. 7272

Len Spencer

Now the thing that I am puzzled by here is that little symbol that is the easiest thing to read on this slip. What is that exactly? I saw this slip and didn't really know what that little symbol of some sort was. Now it was written in ink pen, and that has to be a clue of some sort. Now is it "LS" or just an "H"? If it's an "LS", we all know why it's there(Len Spencer is the singer), if it's an "H", that would indicate an extremely rare (and early!) identification of the pianist. The "H" would stand for Hylands, as in Fred Hylands:

Yes indeed. 

I asked my father what he thought that symbol thingy was, and he saw "LS" there, which I do see as well, but I did think I saw an "H" there when I first looked at the slip. It would be better if there was an "FH" written slanted leftward somewhere on the slip, and that would be purely concrete evidence of Hylands being a Columbia pianist(even though I think this fact has been fully established). Evidence other than that in The Phonoscope. 

Oh, I don't know, I can't seem to find Hylands isn't listed in any of my catalogs, it would have to be Frank P.Banta or Christopher Henry Hudson Booth.

Heh! That's what the old collectors say. Even if the evidence is right in front of them( i.e. the thing JUST ABOVE IT, written in JULY 1898). It's frustrating sometimes, talking with record collectors and enthusiasts who have been so accustomed to not knowing the pianist at all or thinking it's Banta or C.H.H. Booth, and trying to introduce(or argue) that Fred Hylands was the pianist on all of those great Columbia's and even some Zon-O-Phones and Leeds records.  It's hard to argue with a record collector who's ignorant to the fact that there would have to have been more than two pianists in the business in order for all the records to me made. 

There actually were three for each record company I think. One who was primary, a sub, and an operatic/classical pianist. Three for Edison, three for Columbia, and three for Victor. 

Anyhow, back to record slips.  I have seen other Columbia record slips before, and they all seem to be different somewhat. It seems that Columbia didn't really have a straight format to their record slips, unlike Edison's, which all look the same. The thing about Edison record slips is that they actually had the title and type of performer printed onto the sheet of paper, so their slips are much easier to read compared to the Columbia ones. I have seen a slip for a Dan Quinn brown wax where the "................Accompaniment" section is left sadly blank, with no name of the pianist listed. I'm sure if Hylands knew he was completely forgotten by all those who collect the many thousands of records he's on, he'd be really frustrated about it. He wanted to be known, and in the time he made these records, he certainly was. 

Now to share some new old sounds! I was just on that great website this evening called tinfoil.com, a website that I would highly recommend to all record and Rag-Time geeks. Now they have a "cylinder of the month" thing that they do, which is really fun, especially when they have a brown wax as the cylinder of the month! This month's cylinder is a great and fascinating one from earlier-1899 by the crew at Hylands Spencer and Yeager! 

Ha! Not really, it's just a joke because pretty much all of them are here, and it was recorded in the timeframe that the firm was existent. The personnel on this record consists of Len Spencer, Steve Porter, Roger Harding, Dan Quinn, Fred Hylands and the Columbia orchestra. 

here you go!

Did you hear it? The talking at the very end?

It's not impossible to hear either, as many times when this comes up, it's hard to hear by a person with average hearing. My hearing is very pristine, and I can hear many things that most people can't, even those my age can't! 

Now another thing about this cylinder that's so fascinating is that Hylands(who is VERY loud on the piano) slows down quite a lot in the song at the end. He's already behind the orchestra a little bit in the overture, but then he's all slow on the end song. He's a little out-of-sync throughout the songs, just a little bit. 

 Notice! that terrible laugh after Spencer says "he's no better!" at 1:36 just before the end song. Who's that with the horrid laugh? Psst! It' probably Fred Hylands... 
Listen to the second voice at the beginning of this cylinder just after the announcement, here.(there's that terrible laugh at 1:31!)That haunting voice that's hard to understand, that's Fred Hylands alright. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character studies--George J. Gaskin(1863-1920)

"I was the zenith. Not a doubt could defeat that claim!" is similar to what George J. Gaskin claimed about his voice and popularity in the early recording business. 

Since to-day is Gaskin's birthdate, I thought it would be very appropriate to complete a post on him to-day. 
He believed he was the most popular recording star of the recording business in the 1890's, which, in many ways, he actually was, but that's partially just his ego talking mush. He recorded the most of the songs that many people who aren't record nerds remember now, which is a big plus on his part. Len Spencer made more records, but he didn't record some of the most easily remembered songs(ahem! most of them were coon songs!). Gaskin was very popular no doubt, as a phonograph singer and a general singer on the stage as well, which didn't always work with these studio singers. Gaskin was an interesting character in this mix of interesting and odd studio performers. Just as most of them were. For some reason, there's much mystery about Gaskin, even if he was one of the most popular recording artists of the 1890's. Just to put this into perspective, we know more about Dan W. Quinn and Len Spencer more than Gaskin, and Gaskin is sometimes regarded as being more popular than those two. There are also many "studio stories" that surround Gaskin's history, some true, and some not. 

Gaskin was a very vain chap, and his flamboyant personality could be seen in everything he did. He was a striking fellow, with dark auburn hair, always slicked in one direction, bright steel-blue eyes, light eyebrows, and a crooked mouth that affected his speech greatly. He seemed careless in the studios sometimes, and this is where the rumor that he chewed tobacco in the studio rooms spread. One person said that they recalled Gaskin as a singer who would chew tobacco in the studios, and spit it into the horns, or on the floor somewhere near. That tale only spread because of how they all knew he was flamboyant and eager for attention. It's more than likely to not be true, but it's funny anyhow, whoever it came from. He wasn't picky about what what Issler and Gaisberg should play when he was back at North American and Edison, early on, in fact, he really grew to like Columbia's and Berliner's pianist Fred Gaisberg. He began working for Berliner in 1894, the year that he first came to the U.S. to make records commercially. Gaskin was chosen along with Russ Hunting, Billy Golden, A. C. Weaver, and David Bangs. He was hard to work with when Berliner himself was in the room, as Gaskin would drink, chew tobacco, and act as he did, in front of the inventor of the machine he was singing to. In 1894, Gaskin also began to record regularly for Columbia(though he did make some cylinders for them in 1893), and this was when he split ties with Edison's company, as North American vanished in '94, and that was part of Edison after that. After happily being himself in the studios, working with Gaisberg and George Schweinfest, at Columbia and Berliner, along came Fred Hylands in 1897. Gaskin liked Hylands' sense of humor and playing style, and his willingness to work with everyone, but Gaskin must not have been fond of  how big a personality he was, and he was just the pianist! It was a slight battle of attention any time Gaskin came in and Hylands was there. He thought of himself so great, that he thought he could sing anything that he wanted, even though his renditions of "Coon Songs" were infamously disliked by record buyers, but were bought mostly as "gags"(everyone knew Len Spencer's were better!). He was told by his fellows in the studio to not sing "coon songs", and to stick to singing popular songs and Irish songs. He refused to listen to everyone, and he still recorded anything that he was told was new, or that the other artists were singing. He still thought he was the best of the Irish tenors, even by 1900 and 1901 when he was beginning to fade in the business. He was working only for Columbia and Zon-O-phone by then, and occasionally for Leeds when 1903 came along. He still preferred the piano accompaniment at Columbia, even if it just happened to still be Fred Hylands there. By 1903, he must have known somewhat that he was going to be ending his recording career soon, even if he must have acted as though he denied it. By 1904, he was out of the business, much like Dan Quinn was within the next two years. It is unknown what he did in the time he was gone, but it has been said that he stayed in vaudeville and performing for the rich. In 1917, he returned for a brief time to make a few records, much like Dan Quinn did. He must have known that his style was a gone fad, that only the older generation could enjoy. He couldn't adapt, and he didn't want to either. He must have known that he wouldn't live much longer, as he died three years later in 1920. 

Even though he made thousands of records between 1891 and 1904, his records are still rather hard to find to-day, so they are almost certain to be pricey when searching around for them. 
Happy birthday Gaskin! 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

More about the mysterious George Graham

(Graham in c. 1896) 

Mr. Graham is someone that I have a special interest in for many reasons, not just because his records were blatantly funny, but by how he simply vanished from all recording and performing in 1904. Since Graham wasn't one of Jim Walsh's many characters of interest, he is still very unknown to-day, even to the most curious and knowledgeable record collectors. It's the most odd thing, he was recording in bunches from 1896 to 1903, and was rather popular in the late-1890's on Berliners, but was forgotten completely by 1904. No one knows what happened to him after he ended recording, it had been assumed by some that he died in 1903, either suddenly in '03 that forced him to end recording, or he died in the next year, and just refused to come in later in 1903. 

It's hard to know, as there is almost nothing known on him, and it's near impossible to find anything more than we already have on him. The item on interest that also comes to question when thinking of Graham is, was that his real name? What could his name really be if it was changed? There isn't really any indication of that happening ever, but one can wonder such a thing. It's odd, he was certainly a very handsome man, paired with a terrible drinking habit that made him sound somewhat gruff to the listeners of his records. His deadpan humor was genius, whether he knew it or not, which is why he was so entertaining to listen to. He must not have been the most expressive of the earliest recording stars, with a similar face whenever he spoke to the horns. That face must have been blank, with furrowed brows, and not much more. He would really only smile if someone behind the horns did something weird, or funny to him. When the boys had to get out the stand for him, they knew that the session was going to be a real adventure for them, by just trying their hardest to get him to stand straight. There must have been some takes where he spilled his drink, coughed, or dropped the papers from his hands.

One of the interesting things about Graham is that his voice was absolutely perfect for being a record announcer, but he didn't do that for some reason. His voice was blank, gruff, and got points across easy, those were the ruling traits of a great record announcer. That was also the best way to describe Edward Meeker's many thousands of announcements on Edison cylinders from 1902-1909. Graham's voice sounded like that of a terrible, and rough drinker. It is evident on not too many of his records, but on this one here from 1903, you can really hear not only his queer miscellaneous dialect, but also his throaty and slightly scratchy voice. It makes him sound older than he probably was, and more comical somehow. His age is unknown, and it's hard to tell, as some guesses have been made, but they are only guesses. They range from 1861 to 1875, and for all we know, he could have been as old as Edward M. Favor(born 1856). That's not exactly as likely as a date like 1865, as that would allow for some time for Graham to be a traveling medicine salesman in the 1880's, which in some ways would make sense. He was found in 1895 by Fred Gaisberg, at about age 30, that would sound about right. If Graham had died in 1903 or 04, that would have made him between age 45 and 49, which also sounds somewhat reasonable, by how terrible of a drinker he was. But then again, these are only logical guesses. Graham could have lived to the 1910's, but it's hard to know. Either way, the mystery that surrounds his character and his records is what really keeps record collectors so intrigued by him. 

He is very fun to listen to an analyze anyhow, and any one of his records are valuable, as they are hard to come by, and he didn't really make very many. 

*If anyone knows anything more about George Graham, please comment on this post!*

I hope you enjoyed this! 

New Discoveries and a big thank you!

(this was some day learning about Fred and Etta Hylands!) 

Oh what a day I've had! And I am still mesmerized by the amount of information that was shared and given to me. It was all extraordinary! Some wonderful ladies helped me out to-day, and they weren't just any ladies, they were the descendants of Fred Hylands. Not direct, but descending from Fred's notorious sister Etta.

 I was just doing as I usually do on the computer this morning, until I saw the first e-mail, which was from a lovely young lady by the name of Ali, who stated that she was the great-great-great-grand niece of Fred Hylands. How I just exploded when I read that e-mail! I was shaking with excitement, and got into a long conversation with these two sisters who both descend directly from Etta Hylands. It would seem that the tradition of piano playing is still prominent in the family that once bore the Hylands name, which is wonderful from the perspective of a musician. I would wonder the same thing about the Ossman's, even if they're not necessarily interested in playing the banjo, just music of any kind. 

It is also a pleasure to know the family of the Quinn's, and those people are absolutely on top of everything about Dan Quinn, and all of his family history, as that new CD that Archeophone put out on Dan Quinn very much prove that fact. 

I still cannot really fathom that such a popular recording star as Fred Hylands could go forgotten for so many years, as the ladies I spoke with to-day hadn't even a notion of Fred's extensive and rather long recording career. That says quite a lot. I was already aware of how obscure Hylands is to record collectors, and those who are record people who follow this blog, probably never had heard of him until they found any one of my posts on Hylands, or just anything I wrote about on early studio pianists. It's unfortunate really, because he worked much more in the studios than any of the singers he accompanied(other than Len Spencer), and working at Columbia took a terrible toll on his already aching body. All the record companies wanted him, even the most obscure Berliner pirate salesmen, who made their own records, and even companies that lasted a few months. Record managers must have fought over him, but he could only be in one studio for a day, so the next day he might have been at a different studio. Anyhow, you've all heard all of this on previous posts. 

**I just had to thank the two wonderful ladies who e-mailed me several times throughout  the day to-day! Thank you thank you thank you! **

Character Studies--Billy Golden(1858-1926)

"I throw'd myself in a yaller gal's lap--and the yaller gal turn'd de way!"-from Billy Golden's "Roll On The Ground" from c.188?(recorded in 1898)

Yes indeed,Billy Golden, the phonograph artist who was known for singing ''Turkey in the Straw" perhaps over a thousand times. He had been a specialist with minstrel songs since the 1870's, and not just with his "Turkey in the Straw", but the other handful of songs that he made hits with. He had an interesting background, coming from Cincinnati Ohio, with parents that were apparently involved with the local show business. Golden was actually born William Shires in 1858, and became a butcher boy under his father. After working this job for a little while, he became fascinated with the minstrel troupes that came through his town and aspired to one day become one of them. At around the age of 17(in 1875 mind you!), he started as a dancer and all around performer of minstrel songs, doing whistling, dancing, singing, and even yodeling. He started to travel around in small minstrel troupes all over the mid western US, until he made his way to the big stages of New York in the 1880's. In the mid-1880's, he had a team on the stage with his wife May, still doing the dancing and everything else in blackface.  By 1891, the Columbia Phonograph Company finally found him and wanted him to record for them. His shouting and powerful voice recorded surprisingly well on their primitive machines. He was a master at making minstrel records, and later in that year, he joined the mysterious and long-forgotten Brilliant Quartette. You can hear one of their very few records from 1893 here, with Golden singing and Yodeling as well. Golden was making records like mad in the mid-1890's, recording his old specialties like "Turkey in the Straw" and "Roll on the Ground" and a few more. He was among the first handful of artists to first make records for Emile Berliner in 1894, the year that Berliner introduced the disk record to the United States from Germany. Golden was chosen as one of the first disk record artists because his voice was loud enough and it would come through very well on the hand-wound "Gram-o-phons" as they were called by the Germanic inventor Berliner. He made records of all his specialties on Berliner, Columbia, and later on Edison and Victor. 


Golden was a real "riot" in the studio. He would come in to record just often and as much as Len Spencer would. He and Spencer connected at Columbia way back in '89, and they really had so much in common that their friendship was inevitable. Both with Ohio roots, they both had a connection that ran deep in their souls, and when they were both in the studio together, you could see it. But as Spencer did, when Fred Hylands came along, he left Golden out of that small circle of friends and replaced him with Hylands. Golden was piercingly loud, and it is really a miracle that the machines were ever able to take his voice without breaking their glass on the reproducers. His signature shout at the beginning "WELL---" was something that he specialized in doing, and whenever you heard that, you knew it was Billy Golden. He had a terrible sense of overall pitch, not just in his notoriously terrible but very bird-like whistling, but also in much of his singing, as he was completely untrained(much like Dan Quinn!). He almost gave the impression that he was unable to read or write, or at least not very well. This may have been a possibility as to why he had so few songs in his repertoire and why he didn't really learn any new songs. It helped that the pianists that he had behind him were always playing new things, and every time they played, it was different, even if it were the same song as the last one. Golden was great at singing old minstrel songs, and when any one of the old-timer record listeners was hearing a minstrel song, they immediately expected it to be Billy Golden, not Len Spencer. Golden had an extraordinary range, being able to sing high tenor, and also able to sing in that low crackly voice that he used sometimes, but of course, he hadn't really the best ears for notes. He especially enjoyed working with Hylands, as they were practically raised in the same environment and began their careers in the same time, and in the same area. They may have run into each other for all they knew! His shout at the beginning of all his solo records boomed in every studio, didn't matter which one mentioned. He was much more suited to be able to be heard in the Swiss alps than at the big long Columbia recording room, more so than George P. Watson or L. W. Lipp(Edison's big yodeler in 1897 to 1900). All the doors had to be shut if Golden was making records at Columbia, so other records could still be made down the hall, and not in the room next to it. He always had to be placed in the big room at Columbia, because his voice was so loud, and the small rooms would never work in the sense balancing, especially with his piercing whistling. Just like many of the artists there, his wife May very much enjoyed seeing him do what he did, and sometimes came in with him to watch the whole process go by, she especially liked to do this all dressed up for the exhibitions. He and Billy were always in love, and it was evident, bot as much as Vess and Eunice, but it was a blooming love always. After 1903, Golden's popularity on records dropped dramatically, so it was in 1904 or 05 that he skipped out on the recording business and left for a few years. He returned in later 1908 to record only sketches for some reason. That was all that he recorded form 1908 to just a few years before he died. He went through Billy Heins, Joe Hughes, and James Marlowe in this time(from 1908 to 1921), which was actually an interesting mix of performers. They all blended with Golden pretty well, and to tell the truth, James Marlowe blended with Golden the best, vocally and performance wise, more so than Len Spencer did. It isn't known what Golden did in that short time between 1921 and 1926, but he probably just ended his career in recording and performing completely, which was the right thing to do, since he was an aging ol minstrel man. He must have been reasonably wealthy when he died, and left some of the money to his wife. 

I hope you enjoyed this!