A trip to the City

A few days ago, I got back from a five day trip to New York City. For many years i had been wanting so badly to visit New York to seek out all the important recording history locations that I write about so often here on this blog. This trip had been planned for a few months, and that gave me time to plan out what I was to do while there. 

In the weeks before leaving, I made a handwritten list of all the addresses to go and visit, to cross them off as I went. There were nearly 30 addresses on this list, and many of them got crossed off. 

Going to all these places was emotionally, and ultimately physically taxing for me. My first day there I was overanxious to start walking down Broadway to 1155 where the 1890's Columbia studio and offices were. I was trembling with excitement, all dressed up in a simple black and white dress dated to around 1901, and could hardly believe I was walking down this famous street, surrounded by all this history. 

Along the way to 1155 I saw a few other addresses on the list, one being 1180(1),where Roger Harding set up his short lived publishing firm in 1900-1901. When I got t0 1155, it was overwhelming. The address had changed so much, yet the number remained the same, and somehow the exterior of the building remained somewhat intact. It wasn't difficult to picture the place in its original state when all the recorders made their way in. 

Wanted to make sure I took a picture in front of the address with something that was sold there. I stood there for awhile, and after mustering up some courage, I approached two security guards standing by the front door. I commenced to lecture these young men about the unbelievable amount history that occurred right where we were standing. Showed them the supplement pictured above, and the several pictures taken inside the building in the 1890's. These young men were unusually curious about this history, and they seemed quite amazed that the columns on the inside of the building are still standing to this day. After lecturing for about 20 minutes, I headed to 28th street where the original "Tin Pan Alley" was. I heard of a recently finalized proposition to make these five or so intact buildings a historical landmark and have them somewhat restored. 

It was so nice to see these buildings, even though they are a bit beat up and sketchy looking as of now, thankfully that is scheduled to change soon. Here on this block and the next included the Witmark publishing, W. B. Gray, Hylands Spencer and Yeager, Helf and Hager, and several more over time. The one specific address I was most curious to see on this block was 55. 55 was where Ring and Hager published together in 1904, and where Helf and Hager first set up the next year. 

After  going to cross off a bunch more addresses in Tin Pan Alley, I set out to Hell's Kitchen where Frank P. Banta grew up. I wrote down the address that the Banta's lived in according to the 1880 census, so this is most likely where Frank and his siblings grew up. As I approached the number, my eyes started to tear up, as I was walking along the street that little Banta once did to go and tune pianos in the surrounding area. 

This building looks very much intact, and probably didn't look too much different when Banta lived there. The house number is even the same as it was in 1880. 

The next morning I returned to 28th street. I was waiting for some friends to meet with, was stupidly early, so I decided to sit on the steps of 55 until my friends showed up. 

Sat there for over two hours, meditating on all the music that was first conceived there. Sat there in the cold and damp with my gloved hands running over the iron bars once held by so many musicians and writers, Ring and Hager being only two of perhaps hundreds. 

When my friends arrived we headed to 27th street where Hylands Spencer and Yeager were. This building appeared to be intact, though it was being worked on, so we couldn't get inside to poke around. Then we passed through where Dan W. Quinn lived in the late 1890's, and later where he lived from 1906 to his death in 1938. The later Quinn address is the one that he lived in when he was writing to Jim Walsh in the 1930's, and where he also operated a booking office. This address was also very nicely preserved, with lots of pretty marble carving and ceiling decoration. 

After we went by there, we headed to 14th street where all the 1880's and 90's theaters were. Before Tin Pan Alley reigned in the late-1890's and beyond, 14th street was where all the publishers and performers lived. Here we walked by the original site of Pastor's theater, where Ben Harney first introduced Rag-time, and where countless other performers played. Just two blocks farther along was 223, where Fred Hylands lived from 1896 to 1898. We were lucky enough to sneak in behind a resident, which just happened to be the first time any of us had gotten inside. The inside of the building looked to have been remodeled in the 1920's, but we could definitely tell it was an old seedy building that Hylands could easily be seen in. 

This apartment was definitely seedy, but in a charming sort of way. 

The stairs of this building were kind of awful, so I could see Hylands complaining about them often going and coming from work at the record lab or Pastor's. This building was where the "Darkey Volunteer" was published, and where Hylands trod in night after night of performing at Columbia's exhibitions. Performers like Burt Green, Max Hoffmann, and Mike Bernard likely also went up and down those stairs. 

As we started to head to a friend's house near Queens, we passed by where Antonin Dvorak lived in the 1890's. Thankfully there is a plaque dedicating the history of this address. On the plaque it states that he wrote his New World Symphony here in this apartment, which is pretty nice to see. 

The next morning I went to visit a famed broadway and vaudeville historian. This man's house is packed on the walls with posters of all kinds, dating from 1816 to the 1940's. Two examples:

There are hundreds more in this guy's collection. It really was a feast for the eyes to see all these gorgeous colorful posters. He told me that every few months he switches out the posters so there are different ones hanging on the walls. While I was there he pulled out two beautiful posters he had gotten from a recent trip to Paris, which included early art nouveau artwork much like the first poster pictured above. Next I went out with this collector/historian to find Frank P. Banta's grave. We got on the subway and headed to near Wall Street where I assumed it was, but ultimately wasn't able to find his grave there. It was way up in Harlem. I didn't want to spend another two hours going there and back to find his grave, that, as the cemetery directors stated, was in a very large cemetery. So with that I split with my new friend and headed to the Bowery to walk along the neighborhood of so much lore and history, and where Justin Ring grew up. 

After a decent trip on the subway, I turned a corner of Canal Street and was finally walking along the Bowery. The weather was perfect for setting the solemn mood I was in as I walked, it was 45 degrees and damp, with a blanket of clouds ready to drop rain at any moment. As I kept walking, I could really feel the intense weight of history on me, all the struggle and suffering of the many thousands of souls who lived in this area, all of it seemed to congregate as I scuffed the sidewalks. Had never felt such an intense feeling of unbelievable history before, everywhere I looked some image of the past seemed to appear. So much music, so much life, so much suffering, it seemed that walking along here was really where the spirit of the era I study came out. As I neared the street I was looking for, the area seemed to get a little seedier than where I got off, but that added to the atmosphere of the old Bowery I was immersing myself in. When I got to the short street where the Ringleben family once lived, it started to rain. The address looked very much reminiscent of the late-19th century, with so much of its original interior intact. The facade  of the building appeared to have been redone after the Ringleben's had moved out, but much of the older inside was perfectly intact. The building itself would have looked like the one next door when the Ringleben family lived there. 

My hand on one of the walls. 

There was even a beautiful mosaic tile floor still intact. 

I walked all the way up and down the stairs, and looked out a few of the windows to see such a lovely view. 

As I trod around the building I could almost hear the violin of young Justus as he was being taught, and his angry father writing out stock arrangements as his children learned how to write music. It was a lot to take in. 

It was getting dark by the time I started walking back to the subway, and it was raining. Another thing that so charmed me about being in New York was the subway. Lots of folks threw me mixed opinions about the subway before I went, but I was determined to witness the intense history of this old system. It felt like a time capsule, with all the mosaic tiling intact, and every time I stood on a platform the smell of 120 year old pneumatics filled my throat. That smell is entirely unique and old-fashioned. It's like being at an old train station but with no steam to be found. The inside of the subway is truly the smell of the past, with little change since its opening in 1904. There's nothing quite like the smell of 120 year old pneumatics that still heave and work every day. 

Well, wish i had more to say on this trip, but as I'm writing this I am still processing the emotional toll it took on me. Visiting all these places was very moving to me, as it was where all this history happened, and few few people know about it. Despite few knowing of these places, it seems that those who live and work around these places are somewhat curious, and that is hopeful. 

I apologize for not including any recordings in this post, as I usually like to do so. 

Within the next week I hope to start a project on Voss' 1st regiment band. This band has been a sources of mild interest for a few years now, after learning that all of Issler's orchestra performed in this band for many years. Based on this, it seems that this band gave us many of the earliest and most prominent studio orchestra musicians of the 1890's and 1900's. So with this in mind, it seems important to see what I can find on this group.

Before I close out here, I must say that some big news has come down! In the last few months I mentioned Hager's scrapbook and papers, well folks...

Now I have these things in my collection! 

Since they arrived in the mail a few weeks ago, it has been a lot of process, and I have been holding off doing a major post dedicated to this matter. Just to give you a sneak peek into what's in there, here's one of the more unusual pages from the scrapbook:

That's supposed to be Hager's orchestra in the background I guess, that's why he saved it. 

More to come! 

Hope you enjoyed this!

"33" and Ossman intrigue

What is meant by "33"? 

Well, when I use that number, that's what I use to refer to where Fred Hylands lived as a publisher in 1899 and 1900. In the past few weeks I've had a few important realizations about Hylands and the place that he was known for around the Columbia studio. 

When I first joined ancestry a few weeks ago, I didn't immediately go for the Hylands family, since I had already a very detailed understanding of them, and had most of the important paperwork to back up most things regarding them. The first family I went for was the Hager's(who originally spelled their name Hagar which makes sense). After a few hours of digging for other recording stars, I finally decided to test my knowledge of the Hylands family by digging a bit on them. Turns out that was a good idea. A few interesting things came up that I could never have guessed. 

So the name of this post is pertaining to 33, which was the house number for Fred's publishing firm on West 27th street in 1899. The building still stands there today as far as I know, and is currently awaiting someone to up and rent it. 

From the advertisement that Fred placed in The Phonoscope in 1899, it seems that his 33 had a few purposes, and not just limited to publishing. In his ad, we see Burt Green's name dropped in there as his main assistant. Here's a link to the ad just so you can really see it in all its glory:

https://archive.org/stream/phonoscope13hunt#page/n489/mode/2up

Just as we see often in Hylands' endeavors, he was always open to having company at his location, and remaining ever social. This weakness of his led to a lot of issues, but it seemed that this was his source of extra income while working at Columbia. I had seen the 1900 census record before where Hylands and his wife were before, but until recently I hadn't been able to see whether or not he had some interesting guests crashed there.  Fred, Marie and his father Charles were listed at almost the very bottom of the page, so only two other boarders were shown to be there, a traveling salesman and his wife. Out of my burning curiosity, I flipped to the next page to see three more curious renters there. These three men weren't your typical laborers either. 

Here's who they were:

Noble Allen, a single Draper from the state of Georgia.

Louis Crotan, a single Traveling Salesman extracted from French Canada. 

Max Packer, a single Russian ladies' tailor.

Those aren't your typical young men of that time. When flipping to that page, I half expected to see someone from Columbia, whether it be a performer or engineer, but it's perhaps more interesting to see these rather Bohemian men living there with Fred and Marie at the time. Now what can we gather from these interesting people? Well, take notice that all these men are single, and they were all basically exactly the same age as Fred(27-28), and the wife of the first traveling salesman was English like Marie. Now try and put the pieces together. Clearly this was a partnership of its time, experimental, hot, and new. With Fred's father running the place, and collecting some of the rent from the young men(not including any songwriters or performers), it makes more sense what the dynamic of 33 was. This is a very progressive idea, but it was similar to the fashionable French way of living at that time. 

Father took care of the money, so that left Fred and Marie to run loose. This makes so much more sense now. Imagine 33 not too long before then, when Len Spencer was much more invested in the business, and likely crashing there at least twice a week, and getting to work with Fred much more often. By the middle of 1900, the firm was winding down, and things weren't looking so bright for Fred's vision. So I would imagine the time around when the census was taken was a wild time for Fred, aside from being at Columbia all the time. In the succeeding months Fred would sell most of his stock to a larger publishing firm and lose most of the love and trust he had in the Columbia staff and management. 

But with all this in mind, we can now apply this suspicion to other songwriters he worked with later, and as well as the ones he worked with around the same time. Speaking of that, I have tried multiple times to track down some of these illusive songwriters that Fred worked with, but have achieved no success in digging. I tried J. Grant Gibson, and Will J. Hardman, and wasn't able to find a thing on either of them. These two objects of Fred's affections will remain mysterious until something shows up on them. I know nothing and suspect next to nothing about Grant Gibson. I only know that Hylands and Gibson were both white rats, and that Gibson had known Fred far longer than the year of their 1912 piece:

Gibson's name shows up here and there when digging into Hylands' Broadway history, which almost guarantees Gibson was a white rat that Hylands bossed around while in his leading position. 

Anyway, I hope you all get the drift here regarding Hylands. Just think of how popular experimental types of marriages were in the 1890's, and that now it seems that Fred's was no exception, and this particularly makes sense considering their theatrical line. 

Now to move on to some intrigue!

(Ossman around 1891-92)

Vess Ossman will forever have a special place in my heart, because his grave was the first of these recording stars I visited. It was particularly emotional for me to set those roses on his modest headstone, after it had been covered in dirt for decades--almost forgotten. 

Before I searched up Hylands on ancestry, I of course wanted to see what there was on Ossman that I didn't already know. Turns out there's quite a large family out there. Not only are there lots of Ossman's, but there are plenty of Ossman's wife Eunice's family out there too. That's a good thing, that means there are plenty of people to potentially talk to regarding Vess. Hopefully I'll work up the nerve to do that sometime rather soon. While it may be good that there are plenty of Ossman's out there, this can also lead to issues trying to cross reference the information to make sure everything lines up alright. There are multiple entries for Ossman, from different sides of the extended family, so it took me awhile to really get the information right. 

I had known before that the Ossman's had unfortunate luck with their children. Only four of their seven children lived to be older than 5. Yes this was common in that time, but it's still hard luck regardless. It makes sense why they were so avid with having children when considering where Eunice ended up being buried. Just today I visited the location where Eunice was buried in 1930, and it happened to be at the nicest Catholic cemetery nearest where I live. Her grave was unfortunately unmarked, but I did find the exact location. I had some time in peace to think about their marriage, and how it was similar to one that I have already tried cracking open. Thinking over the scandalous skipping of town by Ossman, it reminded me of the whole running joke that was passed around the Columbia staff regarding Spencer's love life. In Walsh's Spencer article(the longest one), it is recalled that the boys at Columbia made fun of how Spencer had run off with his first wife(Margaret), without getting the go-ahead to marry her. 

This is actually similar to Ossman. He pulled the same thing with Eunice, though in his case the girl was younger, in fact too young to legally marry him when they skipped town in 1890. The more I thought about this, the more similarities I saw between Ossman and Len Spencer. Both of them went through quite a lot to be with the women they married, and at first loved them truly. As awful as this may sound, hear me out with this...

After all the trouble they went through, they ended up fulfilling the religious rite of their wives, basically just using them. This would be in typical fashion of the time period of course. Do not assume that I am calling offense to this, as it is common to see such a thing when studying this period of time. In this case, I call for the observation of another other than Len Spencer pulling this, the similarities are astonishing. With this in mind, it becomes clearer why Ossman and Spencer were good friends for so long. 

Now let's step to some more interesting intrigue, rather than theoretical musings. While digging around on the most reliable and detailed Ossman page on ancestry, there didn't appear to be any surprises, until it seems that old Vess had a son with an unknown woman that wasn't his beloved Eunice. 

How Scan'lous!

This is exactly the intrigue that I'd expect from Ossman. While it initially came as a surprise, it made sense and didn't jar me so much. It's curious also to see the date that all this intrigue came down, which was in 1917, rather late for Vess to be fooling around. Consider that 1917 was when Vess was performing with the Eight Victor Artists along with Arthur Collins and the crew. Such fooling around I would expect from Ossman in the mid-1890's, while he was touring with Banta as his accompanist, not in the later teen's while his performing was winding down. This paints Ossman to be much like a Mike Bernard type, but a little less wild and quick to make decisions. With this in mind, we can now consider Ossman as one of those authentic Rag-Timers of the 1890's, just like many of those rag composers we love.

Whew! The analysis in this post ended up being heavier than expected...

Just to diverge from all of that, here's a great new transfer from Santa Barbara with some fantastic Banta piano accompaniment: 

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder17203

The beginning and end of this record is really where it's at. Banta plays some typical schottische melodies and rhythms, but they're played so aggressively and quickly that it attracts much of the attention on the record, even more than much of Dudley's singing to be honest. It's always nice to hear Banta play song and dance tunes such as this one. His strange sense of rhythm also comes through very well in his intro on this record, with the measure counting and rhythm a little out of whack, which adds to the eccentric charm of Banta's playing on many records. 

Next post I will dig into the new Hager discoveries! Stay tuned everyone!

Hope you enjoyed this!

That "unknown" Columbia Pianist

Well, it may not be perfectly clear what Fred Hylands' birthday is, but the day that we do have as a guess is February 28th. So in honor of that date(which is probably more likely his wife's birthday), I feel obligated to do a post on him in some way or another. 

Like any birthday post, it's hard to determine where to begin with Hylands...Of the three-four years I've done studying him, I've gone from just a single small bio in The Phonoscope to almost a complete picture. There are still so many missing pieces of vital information, which is to be expected, as it's hard to know what the man was really like. Before I get to the bulk of this post, I'd like to share what I know of how Hylands was in terms of character, and just a general outline of him...

It's clear that from a young age that Hylands lived in the typical mentality that being a musician could never be a life-long career. With that mentality, his parents refused to keep him from only pursuing music, despite being pushy about his talents by having him tour around as a child musician. Fred was bright from a young age, and by age 15, he was thrown in business school(likely by his father), and probably learnt a few things about business sense while there. With this foundation, he had confidence in himself in no matter what he went for, and was self-driven. With all of this, moving to Chicago got him his first serious job in the theater business. His success in Chicago and absorbing of new syncopated music got him the confidence to move out of the mid-west that he was used to, and he followed the lead of the other young "rag" pianists and performers(like Ben Harney and Max Hoffmann). 

Hylands entered New York with striving confidence and excitement. At this time(1896) he was tall, kind of handsome, and slim, certainly he would have assumed himself "soubrette bait". Once he had a seat at Pastor's theater, being surrounded by younger Rag pianists built up his status in the music community, particularly the budding Rag-Time community. Once Columbia took him in 1897, all bets were off, and most outside gigs of his were too. Once at Columbia, that's where he was practically imprisoned almost every hour of the day, playing one take after another of rounds, and dealing with more singers than he could have than at Pastor's as music director. He soon became weary of this studio work, and it changed him greatly, out of some strange mix of things. We know that he was no longer slim by 1898, for whatever reason, and working at such a sedentary job couldn't have been good for him, with the combination of little sleep(making the switch from actors' hours to the opposite), drinking more often, and just generally losing any sense of self-care, he changed dramatically, and likely seemed not the same person as he was when first getting to New York in 1896. He hated the work at Columbia, as he stated, but of course deep down he loved the theater that he experienced every day at work, particularly from tragedian studs like Len Spencer and the morality lectures from Dan W. Quinn. With the work taking a horrible tole on his body and health, he decided to go into publishing in late-1898, failing at that, but then determined, trying again in early 1899 with his studio idol Len Spencer. His relationship with Spencer seems much more complicated than it was on the surface. Starting in 1897, they saw one another at work almost every day(every day certainly by early 1898), and found that their musicalities had similar chemistry, with that, this is why their records sound a little more perfect than the other recording partners of the brown wax era(like Quinn and Banta). Spencer's vocal style fit with Hylands' weird piano style perfectly, and in a different sort of perfect as Edward Issler's did in the years before that. It didn't help that Spencer's family had roots in the same region as Hylands' birth...

By 1899, the second publishing endeavor was good to go, with Hylands' foundation in business, and Spencer's higher education status in business, it seemed a perfect combination to satisfy Fred's desire to be social with theater freaks. Spencer's beautiful logo sealed the deal on the publishing firm and did just what Fred desired, caught the attention of performers from all around. As his advertisement stated, it was clear that one intention of having this firm was not only to gather up all the recording stars so they could rely on only him for music, but to gain the praises and friendship of many other prominent performers. Among those performers that Hylands, along with his assistant Burt Green attracted to their "33" were Byron Harlan, Ada Jones, Barney Fagan, Fred Hager and J. Fred Helf, and Sallie Stembler. Hylands took a specific liking to each of these performers that Burt and Spencer told him about, since he was not there himself often to greet them when they called. Though the regulars at "33" soon were featured on several sheets of Fred's. A particular interest of Fred's was Sallie Stembler, who was on quite a few of his sheets in the relatively short time he published successfully. 

She was already a rising star at the point that she corresponded with Hylands and Spencer. Now nothing definitive can be said about Hylands flirting around with Sallie, but considering the aggressive charm he and his sister Etta had, it wouldn't come as too much of a surprise if he messed around with her a little. His Marie was always gone at night, solely on actors' hours for the most part, and would be getting home from work just shortly before Fred would have to go to work(at Columbia). Without exhibitions at night, Fred had a little more time on his hands he was not intending on wasting...

To add to the weirdness of the Sallie and Hylands thing, Sallie got divorced in 1900 not long after she was being pictured on Hylands' sheet music, and the charge was abuse and infidelity.  

Let that sink in for a moment...

When the publishing firm collapsed in the fall of 1900, Hylands held a grudge with all of the fellow managers, and wrote a scathing letter out to them all, expressing his displeasure with them. Even with the unreasonable anger, Hylands still had to continue to face Spencer very often at work(Columbia), and all the other recording stars involved with the publishing endeavor. From this tale, we learn that Hylands was overly ambitious and confident, but unable to keep commitments, as the power he held corrupted him and therefore burnt bridges he built with his closest Columbia friends. Even with the heartbreak of the firm, he continued onward at Columbia, and soon back again into the theater where he really belonged. 

(in this show, Hylands played the part of one of many New York character stereotypes, which type, I have yet to find out)

He flirted with the idea of joining a union as early as 1901, as he was surrounded by progressives that expressed their dissatisfaction with their work since the mid-1890's. Issler, Will J. Hardman, Art Young, then later the budding White Rats. After his failed attempt at another publishing firm and a union, he gave in and joined the White Rats. His faulty leadership skills came around again as he rose up in the White Rats, his desire to run around and flirt against the rules ended up being his downfall in 1911-1912. After being a high up leader in the White Rats, being an aggressive leader, his desire to move around and flirt against the rulebook is what condemned him to court in 1911 and got him thrown out of his leadership position of the union's then large network.

His shows outside of the union stuff were sort of successful, as all the big Broadway people seemed to know he was a  toxic musical freak to get involved with. They all knew he was an outstanding accompanist, but was full of himself and overly confident with his skills outside of improvising popular songs on piano and violin. His performance skills outside of recording and accompaniment were never really highly praised, but his charm was always what kept him on level with everyone else. 

Hylands may not have been the best publisher, or union leader, but his records are really where it's at. When we listen to his records, we get a sense of familiarity out of knowing it's him back there on piano, doing his strange accompaniment that we all know and love. He probably resented working for Columbia for so many years, and was likely ashamed of all the strange and rather horrible things he did while there(as we can well observe that this is the origin of where his health failed him), but it's what physical evidence we have of his footprint in the history of North American music(and recording sound in general). He was not the first studio pianist, nor the first studio pianist to play rag-time, but he brought a style to the recording horn that had never been heard before and hasn't been replicated since then. Like all the other brown wax era studio pianists, he suffered for the sake of making a mark on what we can still hear today as record collectors(though that wasn't really in the mindset of all recording stars at that point in time). He shortened his life by 20 years by working at Columbia, but what he left us is fascinating, as there's no context and stories to accompany the days he sounds different from others, and why he played so strangely sometimes. 

We all know about Banta, with his goodness and morality, and his praises from being a tragic story taken from the world too early, but in reality, Hylands was similar in a lot of ways. 

Tragic indeed, the story of a fantastic musician intended to be a businessman who strays away from this to become a theater manager, then at the height of success is pulled out to the lowest kind of work for a musician in the 1890's, the recording studio. The studio changes him from a funny country jay to a drugged, greedy, bitter young city rat. he tries to escape this life after the era of piano accompaniment fades to join back in theater, and rises high up once more in the advocation for his fellow performers, but his fatal attribute leads to his downfall. This attribute is adventure and habit. The downfall is deepened at the death of his father and he ultimately finds himself dead in another nation in the middle of a reviving tour. 

what a story!

Just as tradition, here are a few records with Hylands accompaniment. There are so many out there, I cannot even begin to choose some, here are a few good ones anyway:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nxo1FJev4G4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fHmVsMEosdo

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTdww5jHU-E

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cXPziKyIEA&t=94s

https://archive.org/details/TheyAllFollowMewHylands1898

https://archive.org/details/TheLaughingSongJohnsonHylandsGflat

https://archive.org/details/DarkeyVolunteerOssmanwComposer1898

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Revised: Character Studies--Fred Hylands(1872-1913)

After learning a whole lot more about Hylands, it seems fit to essentially re-post the Character Studies post on him. Just like anything I post on Hylands, it's often to aid the kind descendants of him, and to make sure that all collectors are aware of his presence on early Columbia records. 

The amount of information that has been collected on Hylands since this time last year has been phenomenal, and it all makes his life not only more interesting, but a whole lot more complicated. Just a few small facts and observations made by Charlie Judkins and I changed much of what we thought of Hylands, and came as a surprise. If I ever get the chance to give my seminar on Hylands once more(which I hope to!), it will be even more complete than when I gave it for the first time last November! Yes, there are still gaps that perhaps we will never fill, but those gaps at least have been filled to some extent in the last few months. Well, we've still got a long way to tread with the whole Hylands thing, but that is exactly why it remains ever interesting to search.
 There's not a way I could have expected that that unknown, obscure name "Frederic Hylands" written in the pages of The Phonoscope would become such a monumental and long-term project. But no matter, it's still a joy to dig, and eventually I'll find that unmarked grave in New York and at last get it marked if needed. 

Hylands in 1897,

and in 1898.

Here we go...

Hylands was a beaming star amid Columbia's night sky of glowing white stars, with a personality and figure that always consumed a room he entered. Sometimes this was intentional, other times not, but more often than not it was wanted by him. This desire, or demand, for attention is rooted in his past, like most things are with people. Being the older child, and a boy, it seemed inevitable for him to be treated better of the two children, the other being his sister Etta. He was born at about the last week of February(remember that we're not really certain of this just yet), and that would make him older than most of the early Rag-Time pianists, including Ben Harney oddly enough. It didn't take long for his parents, Charles and Mary, to take to the talent and genius of their son, as well as to realize that Fred was not going to be a respectable locomotive engineer like his father. By age 7, Fred was beginning to show interest in playing the fiddle, and with that curiosity took a liking to the banjo on the sly, since that wasn't exactly the most classical of instruments for earning a living. After messing with the fiddle, and becoming rather proficient with it, he began at the piano, playing whatever it was he played early on. Soon he was traveling all around Indiana and Ohio as a child prodigy, hence his sense of importance and need for attention later on. By 1886 and 1887, he was a local celebrity around Fort Wayne, being mentioned in the papers pretty much almost every week, with some new antics and gossip. In 1887 was not only when his father opened a grocery/saloon, but it was also when he went to the local business college(at 15 mind you!). He got into all sorts of trouble in and around Fort Wayne, from cable car bouts to driving a wagon and almost getting killed by a suddenly terrified horse(much like the whole Spencer cable car incident). All of this built his character, and providing entertainment at his father's saloon did so as well. He continued this interesting and well-known life until 1893 when the family moved out to Chicago, in overwhelming interest in the World's Fair. Unfortunately, Mary Whitney Hylands died not long after the move, leaving Charles with Fred and Etta. Etta married off the month after her mother died, with Fred and Charles the only ones at home then. Fred as working out a local outposts for Keith's and Pastor's theaters, playing accompaniments, and managing shows there, but also playing at less-then respectable places that Chicago was infamously ridden with. Places where syphilis and violence ruled the essence. This is where the final touches were set on his playing style, as by this time he had fully settled with playing the piano. His style was finalized when out in Chicago, as all of these other famous "rag" pianists were playing at the same clubs and venues as he, and without a doubt he took from them, despite already possessing a style that was the zenith of Rag-Time's early days(like Ben Harney's). In September 1895, he conveniently married British singer/actress Maria Stevens, possibly due to pressure set on them by both of their parents. Not long afterward, Charles, Fred and Marie moved out to Milwaukee for a short period, most likely because Fred had been asked to work for one of the theater chains at which he was employed to manage. By mid-1896, Fred and crew were finally out in New York. Fred immediately resumed working at the theaters he was already empolyed, only this time it was where the original managers and theaters were, not the chains. Fred earned a reputation in New York, though at first he was seen as a hapless Indiana rube of a sort(not entirely...) to the society Rag pianists such as Max Hoffmann and Burt Green. He was no rube, in fact his smarts were far higher than most thought at the beginning, but this didn't always prove him well. By very early 1897(or late-1896...), he caught wind of the advertisements of recruitment the newly local Columbia Phonograph Company, and that they were holding auditions and tests. Not long afterward, he went off to 27th and Broadway to await his turn before Easton, Emerson, and Issler. Soon he was declared an employee of Columbia, on staff, almost full time. This came about around March-April 1897, according to auditory study of Columbia recordings made around this time. Soon Hylands began to realize why Issler had become bitter about working in Columbia's studio, or any studio for that matter, though at least in the beginning of Fred's term there, and the end of Issler's, the two of them got along rather well, but this did not last into the next year. Of course, with this new job, Fred had no idea how this was going to impact him, assuming it wasn't a horrible occupation to be a studio musician. How he was wrong. In mid-1897 or so, Hylands seemed like anyone else who worked at Columbia, young, sweet-faced, well-rested, and fit. As can be observed from the images of him at the top of this post, none of these things remained as such. He was still relatively good-looking into 1898, though the temptation of the benefits he received from working at Columbia for got to him faster than anyone could have expected. He came in to Columbia in early-ish 1897 at just over 200(keep in mind that he was freakishly tall), and by the middle of the next year, was at over 300. That was unexpected. Also, he seemed to have aged ever so slightly in that timeframe, seeming like heaps alcohol and drugs carved lines and exacerbated his quick gaining of weight. Like many of us would think to-day, that couldn't have been good for him, gaining that much weight in a relatively short period of time. Well, it's likely that in the early half of his time at Columbia(which incidentally was the last quarter of the brown wax era), is where the diabetes he had began to slowly suffocate him, little by little each coming year. It was because of this unexpected spell of suffering and stress that we get quotes from him like this one: 

That was still not too long after he began working for them, a little over a year perhaps. Of course, by the middle of 1898, his rag-time piano accompaniments were becoming a signature for Columbia's records, as they were openly advertised and described in editions of The Phonoscope and they soon became an indicator for what Columbia's records sounded like. His accompaniments in Rag-time behind those singers were superior, perhaps outdoing Edison's own Frank Banta and Fred Hager  by a mile or more. Not always, but the musical ideas and folk background of his made the style more distinct, and interesting to listeners of the era and of to-day. Since Fred was had become so popular at Columbia, he used this to his advantage in selling his music, since anything he wrote while there was certain to get him some decent mileage. it was just at the height of the infamous exhibition season that he wrote his famous "national success"(not really) "The Darkey Volunteer", for Vess Ossman, and when he sent out advertisements highly praising his piece from his first few months at Columbia "The Narcissus Gavotte". This got far, with a handful of takes of "The Darkey Volunteer", and many encores of his fantastic playing at the wearisome, hot and sticky exhibitions, it seemed all-right for him. It must be noted that on the the 1898 cylinder of this by Ossman and Hylands, that it seems the composer didn't even bother to practice his most prized piece, or just bother to play it to the best of his ability(there are many mistakes scattered all around throughout the piece, not on Ossman's part). That just goes to show how Hylands felt sometimes, even in the presence of tightly strung and intense natured Ossman, who probably tediously practiced the piece till he couldn't anymore.  Hylands could clearly be frustrating sometimes, and this is just one example of perhaps many aggravating little things he pulled with other recording stars. 
1899 turned out to be an even more pivotal year for Hylands, and this was because of his forceful will in beginning an official publishing firm with Roger Harding and Steve Porter. He threw the idea at them as well as setting aside some stocks for the firm, all before the firm could ever get anywhere, only publishing one piece successfully in February. After Fred's angry break down from the "Knickerbockers" firm blowing to bits, he stepped right in again to begin another publishing firm, this time with his good studio friend Len Spencer and his booking agent.

This time it seemed Fred had the Columbia Lady's hair in his grasp, by then owning an amount of authority over Columbia's flow of music in the studio. This allowed him to publish music of the studio stars, to further their fame, and this time just not on recordings, but also in print! It was ingenious, until the notion fell through after a year and a half, since Burt Green couldn't manage his flat during the days, and Len Spencer had pretty much dropped out by then, due to his constant recording activity, and Fred himself had grown heavier and weary of the managing he'd done for everyone. Hylands Spencer and Yeager fell through completely in October 1900, and by the month afterward, he had sold all his stock, further throwing him into deeper melancholy from the failure. He still had Columbia to keep him employed, though it was around the time of ending the firm and the last true year of the brown wax era(1901) that he began to form his somewhat rebellious, Socialist viewpoint that later proved him well for a short while. He continued to work regularly at Columbia, thought reluctantly, and worried he was more susceptible to fights and abuse from the other staff members, due to his fooling with them during the publishing firm, which unfortunately for him included everyone he worked with regularly. To escape this, and return to his roots, he began performing in minor shows on and just off Broadway, as well as performing in straight vaudeville, singing songs and playing that signature piano style he seemed to have been known for. By 1902, he had a fling with Columbia finally, almost getting him thrown out, other than the whole Climax feud doing just the same thing. This time, it was more of his own fault, feeling agitated and abused by Columbia's treatment of him, he had enough, though they didn't, and couldn't fire him right then and there. His protest included going off and working for Columbia enemies, such as Zon-O-Phone and Leeds. The other companies welcomed him with open arms, with no previous notion of how vexing working with him was. Of course, like anything he involved himself in, his association with these other companies didn't last long, and by early 1903, he was back at Columbia, working there until the middle of 1905,when at last he was dropped. After 8 years, he was finally freed from them, and able to do what he wanted. Despite mild successes on Broadway in 1905 and 1906, he still was dissatisfied with the little recognition he received from this, and not being able to lived as comfortably as he wanted. Being one of the founding leaders of the White Rats Actors' Union, he had some protection and leverage to keep him and Marie out of poverty. He slowly drifted away from what he was supposed to be doing as a chief at the White Rats, becoming solely a musician with each coming month, refusing to be seen on the stage(Wish we knew why this is...) and becoming disloyal to the union he helped found and organize. He did continue to perform onstage regularly during his period where the other union members became suspicious of him. By 1910, he was living in a boardinghouse not too far away from where the old Columbia building was still standing tall. He and Marie came in and out of the boardinghouse, going on various tours and trips for the stage, and it seemed that Marie was busier than Fred, not even being present for the 1910 census, and her performances scattered all over stage magazines with Belle Farmer were taking over Fred's spotlight by a mile. In 1912, after being thrown out of the White Rats for good, Fred teamed with Wilbur Held as a duo in vaudeville. Keep in mind that by this time, Fred was slimmed out once more, similar to when he first began working at Columbia, but this time it was because of traveling and sickness, not like before. The touring he did from 1906 to 1909 wore him out, and probably exacerbated the downfall of his health. By 1912, especially early 1913, he was especially not well, perhaps any night of a show could be his last by then. Of course, he didn't think that way, so he refused to let this notion bother him. In the early part of 1913, Fred and Held were signed to tour in England in the summer, which by June, is where they sent off to. Once over there, they got to touring almost right away, with Fred and Wilbur being the headliners of many shows, and Marie being in some of them as well. After about a few weeks of touring, once the troupe had gotten to the northwestern coast of England, Fred dropped dead, of something related to the crippling diabetes he had for years. Oddly enough, Marie and Held continued to perform for a few more weeks after Fred died, since their contract had been extended, to two years it's said, but of course, it could not be fulfilled without Fred. 


After a few more weeks, the troupe finally disbanded and went back to the U. S., to have Fred's funeral. It was held by the White Rats union, despite their bitterness toward him in the end, he was still a founding member, and deserved the respect. It is not certain where in New York he was buried, or if his grave it marked in any way, it's unlikely to be. Marie spent two years in mourning for Fred, in the typical Victorian tradition, but just then and there in 1915 she went back to where she and Fred met in Chicago to marry a Dutchman named Sam Gelder, it is uncertain how long they were married, but it was into the 1920's. 



I don't think I need to exhibit a bunch of recordings Hylands was on because they are scattered all over the posts of this blog, and there's really no way to decide on only three or four with him. This is exactly why he's ever interesting! 

Sorry about not posting for over a week, it's been hard to make the time for a post in the past week. 

Keep your spirits up out there! 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Organizing some of Hylands and Professor Burt Green

One thing I really hate to do on this blog is to make things seem to repetitive, and with this, I really hope that speaking so much of Hylands recently hasn't been too much for some of you. This new image of the Columbia studio has really been something that has plagued my thoughts since I found the image. Yes, the night of finding it I even lost some sleep over it. This is what happens folks, those of us who care so much about the most minute of details in this overarching subject matter can lose sleep over just a single image. It's not healthy at all, but it happens. It's just as bad as the amount of work the studio stars we study had to endure during the "round" era. 

Of course, with the discovery of this image, there has been much discussion over who that pianist might be. I've gotten Percy Grainger, Gaisberg, and of course the unknown studio pianist. Everyone who has discussed the image has had differing opinions of who it looks like to them. In many ways, this debate is more intense and important than the glasses debate, because that got settled. 

We know Hylands wore glasses, case dismissed. 

But just like anything related to early Columbia, nothing is that easy. This image is proving to be the hardest of any so far as far as face identification.

Yep. 

Seems to be haunting still, and it will continue to be as such. 

That handsome face seemed to most who I asked too much so to be Hylands, though really if you look at the exhibition picture from 1898, you will see that it's the same face. The only thing that seems to be throwing everyone off is how slim the pianist in the picture is, that's all. Oddly enough, when I was in Missouri back in June, I had a conversation with John Reed-Torres about a similar subject on Hylands. I explained to John that Hylands seems like the type who was slimmer when he was younger, but John couldn't believe it. Now something has come along to prove this point clear to him. This image could very well prove this point. As weird as it seems, I really do think it's Hylands, despite the conflicting opinions received from the image. Only two of  the people asked about this image believed that it was probably Hylands. Luckily, those who thought this were using the artists' logic here, and with that I will explain. 

Being a cartoonist, I study faces all the time, and especially faces of these recording stars. This is an important part of my study of these widely forgotten faces, and luckily, I've studied Hylands' face just a little more than others. This is only because of the fact that we haven't found a decent photograph of him yet. As far as decent, this image is about as good as it gets until we find something better.

 One of the first things I turned to in trying to figure this out was that image of Fred's sister Etta on his music. Using that is actually a better source than some might think at first. 

Now when looking at this image, you can easily see that her lips are exactly the same as those of the pianist in the image:

Same structure. Also, the nose is similar, but not the same. Her profile would look similar in this case. If you really study the image of Etta, you can see that this "unknown pianist" looks related to her, and would therefore be her brother Fred. Her eyes don't look nearly as bright as Fred's because the lighting makes Fred's eyes look bright blue or green, which is not too surprising, since this seems to run in their family yet. Her eyebrows are also a little thicker, which is again interesting to note in terms of differences between them. Much like her brother, Etta was rather tall, but not freakishly tall like Fred. 

Just to put this into perspective, Fred would be a foot taller than me. 

Of course, that's just comparing this wildcard image to something that seems completely unrelated to Columbia and recording. The next step would be to use what we've got in the exhibition picture. 

Really seems strange to go back to this after seeing the other picture...
Now this image was the best of help in solving this mystery, since this was the best example of how Hylands looked before this new image. Of course the one thing that threw everyone off was the fact that the new image is probably from 1897, and that the exhibition picture is dated to September 1898. That's a relatively short period of time. Hmm, it seemed strange to Charlie Judkins when I inquired him of the image, because of this specific point. It seemed strange to both of us that he would gain so much weight in a rather short period of time. But with Hylands, Charlie noted that this seemed to be a pattern with him, something not just coincidental to when he began working at Columbia. Though, it is important to note that this dramatic change came about about the time he began working there, at the lost supposed time that he began, in late-1897. Since this new image is from more likely 1897, that whole notion of him working there that early is finally inching closer to being proven. 


But why would Columbia cause him to change so much in such a short period of time?

Well, it was a mix of many things. The first thing to consider is that he was no longer constantly running around from place to place in a theater. All of that ended when Columbia took him, really think about what he'd be doing all day at Columbia. Not much moving around. Unlike Georgie Emerson or the Spencer's, Hylands would be stuck in his piano chair the whole day for the most part. He'd only be playing for the singers all day, take after take. It's certain that he hadn't had a sort of job before then that was so tiring and stressful, so without a doubt this didn't help his disposition. Stress and lack of sleep really got to him not long after beginning his term at Columbia, and therefore, he gained an unhealthy amount of weight after beginning to work there. It took less than a year for him to be called "the heavyweight pianist" by the Columbia staff. How he had some unfortunate genes if that could get him so quickly...

(a cartoon I did mocking this dramatic change)
With all of this, I will have to go back and re-do my character studies post on Hylands, since this single image changes much of what we know of him, and leads us to more theories and such. The newly redone post will come up within the next few days. 




Now to move to a friend of Hylands'. 

We know of Burt Green as Hylands' "gopher", or sideman under the Hylands Spencer and Yeager venture in 1899 and 1900. When Hylands snatched him by the collar out of the orchestra pit in 1899, it happened to be at Huber's Museum/theater he took him from. Other than working at Huber's he was known as the chief imitator of pianists at Pastor's theater, which was no small thing. It was said that when he took the place of Mike Bernard or Fred Hylands one night of regular performances, he WAS the orchestra pit. By this, they meant that he was such a good mimic that anyone would mistake him for any of the other usual pianists, and that he was a piano freak, with wild abilities on the piano. This is a similar story Mike Bernard, though Green was not nearly as widely known for such a thing. It seems he was known as an imitator in his days before leaving Ethel for Irene in 1907. 

Burt Green was not considered one of the best accompanists, but that don't mean that he wasn't a good pianist. Unfortunately, on the few recordings with his piano accompaniment, we can't hear him play at his best, or play that Rag-Time style that he was known for in the late-1890's. This is the reason that he and Hylands were such good friends. 

It must be noted that in 1907, Green wrote a column in Billboard, which consisted of gossip about vaudeville stars. The column was called Vaudeville Happenings around New York. If you ever have the chance to read through the column, it's certainly worth it! He not only judges performers he had recently seen or performed with. Many of the names are familiar to us, such as Marie Dressler. 

One of these hilarious sections read thus:

It must be lovely to own one of those suburban homes just now. Imagine those poor actors who have to drill through all this snow. Give me the flat in New York, even though I can not save as much money, but nevertheless what I do save draws interest, and when I want to move, it's lots easier. It's a good safe bet that seven-tenths of the artists who have "stung" on those "home" propositions would sell out at half price, if you could get them with a little ready money just now. 

Wow, that's so true Burt. How funny is that? It's great to read these. One thing that really surprised me when reading through these is the amount of slang he used. Of course, Burt Green was the most dandyish of the characters in this early Rag-Time study, but it's ever more interesting to read his column. All the slang comes through just as it did in The Phonoscope. One of the statements that really caught my attention is this:

...Some actors are so stereotyped that they can not put a new gag in their act without having nervous prostration--and these are the kind that stand on the sidewalk and enviously roast their more successful brothers. It's the hustler who gets the plum, the fellow who spends his money for new material and keeps himself in front of the agent and manager at all times. 

The one thing that really was surprising was the fact that he used "roast" in the modern terms. That was rather interesting, and really funny in fact. It is really starting to make sense why Hylands was attracted to Green(not in that way), and why he was Fred's assistant, also probably helping with the advertisements.  Since Green did this column, wish I could find more of his writing! He seems to have been a great gossip writer. It's unfortunate, he would have done great as a Phonoscope correspondent. It didn't matter though, those correspondents for Hunting were just as subliminal and comical. This is why in many ways, Burt Green seems like the honorary member of the "Columbia Clan". 

Before the finish, I would like to share a recording with some aggressive piano playing on it! There is indeed such a thing as this, and in fact, this recording is the only one that could be classified with that. 

Here's the record:

(it's the first take listed)

http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/100001269/Pre-matrix_A-1245-His_own_familiar_tune

That pianist is aggressive! 

Wow, you don't need to play that harsh...

Also, something to note about this recording is the sound of the piano behind him. It's got a strange sound, that's wirey and out-of-tune, which sounds similar to a certain piano that Len Spencer flipped over. Of course, it's not that badly out of tune, but it's noticeable for sure. Every note in the piano accompaniment can be heard clearly, which is unusual, and the loud fifths in the left hand help this to happen. 

Hope you enjoyed this!