"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!

Revisions and More new Transfers

All right, scratch most of what I said about Hardman in the last post. 

This thing is becoming much more frustrating than expected. 

So let's say that this guy wasn't the funny British man. 

After going back at the handful of examples of his music, the two things don't seem to fit together. 

Think back to the post where I first used that sheet above to talk about Mr. Hardman, when I used all the comical imagery and union talk. 

This is who the guy was. More of the influence of socialism on Hylands than anything. Thinking back to the music he wrote in the 1880's, he likely had a similar background to Hylands, particularly thinking of songs like this:

That's curious. Didn't someone we know literally live in the same decade under similar circumstances?

Hylands!

Yes indeed. In 1887 Hylands' father Charles opened a grocery store in Fort Wayne, Indiana. This sort of thing is rather midwestern, which would place Hardman likely in a similar upbringing to Hylands. Take that combined with the Union song from the same time and we have a similar story to Hylands, but realized a little earlier. Of course we still have no idea how old he was, or where exactly he came from, but we do have little hints from the handful of published music that's out there. So even with all this digging and learning yesterday, we are still in the same place as before unfortunately. Just like last time, we can associate imagery like this with Hylands and Hardman's relationship:

It still makes the most sense, and with a midwestern background to tie them together, we can assume that's what got them together under the talk of reviving their music writing skills. 

So please disregard most of what I said in the last post about that book at such. Not everything I've said about him is entirely wrong, but let's just revert to what we had before the last post. 

So now that that's done, it's time to listen to some more new transfers! As per usual, I've been checking the vast archive of Santa Barbara every day for new transfers, unearthing new ones almost every day. Luckily, there is a new Issler transfer up, and those are always guaranteed to impress. 

There he is, looking all official and whatnot. 

We know very well of Issler's outstanding capability to play syncopation in his music, which is evident throughout his recording career. This new transfer is no exception to this. 

Here's the new transfer:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder17058

The first section of this quadrille has an overtly syncopated section that sounds an awful lot like cake-walks published around the time this was recorded. This record was made likely around 1895, as are the bulk of Issler's records that we hear out there. The syncopation on this particular record sounds like a typical cake-walk from a few years later actually. What sections like this would have been called in the early and mid 1890's would be "buck and wing" or just
wing dance", which is another direct ancestor to Rag-Time. Here are two published examples of "wing dances", published before 1899:

Marshall and Wolff's "Evening Pastimes"(medley), published in San Francisco in 1897

"The Texas Teaser" by George Lowell Tracy from 1898

Think of a weird combination of Irish reels and black folk dances. That's essentially what we're dealing with here. 

Another good example of one of these is actually Monroe Rosenfeld's widely recorded "Virginia Skedaddle". These pieces encompass a lot of the distinct characteristics of American music throughout the 19th century. This is why hearing Issler play this stuff on records is valuable. We get an entire summing up of American(and not just North America I mean, I'm also referring to the West Indies and southern America) music in a few recordings of 2 to three minute songs. In speaking of songs like this, Santa Barbara has a curious record listed by the Columbia orchestra with an interesting title:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder14525

"Wing dance",that ought to be just what we're looking for. And with that, the piece could possibly be an older piece that was carried over to the Columbia Orchestra from Issler in the early and mid-1890's. This particular record is of interest to Rag-Time scholars because of the primitive and jig like melodic lines, the ones that were distinct of the earliest minstrel show songs(like "Turkey in the straw"!). This is exactly where the primitive rag name "jig-piano" comes into the picture. This record overall is a standard example of the earliest Columbia orchestra, with half the musicians being Issler's, and the other half being prestigious Gilmore's band musicians. Since this particular record is from that issue-ridden gray area for Columbia(1897), it's hard to tell who the pianist in the orchestra would be. 

This next record is quite different from the last one in term of content. 
It's been a little while since J.W. Myers has had a significant mention, so here you go:

Myers around 1893. 
This new Myers transfer is just interesting enough to keep me listening. Normally I am drawn to coon songs and funny popular songs, rather than what this record is. Here you go with John Philip Sousa's "The Man Behind the Gun":
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder17164
You will notice how loud and clear this record is. In fact, it's so clear and well recorded, that a friend and I discussed the possibility of this record being and original(directly recorded to cylinder, with no copying process). My friend stated how original records were sold(by Columbia) in the brown wax era, but were more expensive and the standard 60 cent Columbia record. With Edison records this wasn't the same process, Edison was known to sell originals all around for the same price. Anyway, what stands out about this record is that Myers of course was a great singer, but the piano accompaniment. Hylands is playing pretty typical accompaniment stuff, but the quality of which we hear it is outstanding. We can distinctly hear the very chord inversions he's playing, down to every single note coming through nice and clear. Hearing records like these reminds us how even though the process of recording was frustrating and sanded away at the lives of those who made them, the outcome was often loud and clear. With that, we can all live that moment in time, no matter what take it was, or what time of the day it was. 

This last record is one that I've been anxiously awaiting its transfer since the moment they listed it online. Of course all of the overt Coon songs Spencer did that are listed are gradually being put up to be listened to, and this one is just another great example of them. 

This particular one is another popular May Irwin hit from 1897, as are most of the better coon songs that Spencer recorded with Hylands accompaniment. The original transfer that was put up on Santa Barbara was far too fast, so slowing it down to a more respectable speed was of order. Just to get the comparison, here's the original transfer:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder14535
It's hard to listen to honestly, so here's the better slowed down transfer, where the piano accompaniment comes through much better:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YdldGc2ZWMW9WWmIyeDJrZ1YycWg1Y2h4Ymg0/view?usp=sharing
It's much more tolerable now, and sounds perfectly ragged. Yes, this isn't a great example of Spencer's singing(this is my perfect pitch coming through...), but the piano accompaniment far exceeds the rather out-of-tune singing of Spencer. This sort of Spencer record is exactly what I look for in terms of great examples of pre-1900 rag-time. This record and his "Get Your Money's Worth" from around the same time are among the best examples of their collaborations from pre-1900. These records are the zenith of recorded rag-time at the height of the first rag era(1893-1903), it really doesn't get much better than this folks. 
All the significant Hylands characteristics are present in this new transfer. You get the walking bass notes, pushy rhythmic syncopation, and out of whack following of the singer. It's records like these where we're reminded of how hard it must have been to accompany Spencer. Spencer was known for distinct pauses and little talking sections in the middle of records, and therefore made life for the accompanist very difficult. With other performers and singers, Hylands didn't naturally do the weird pause thing and aggressive speeding up of verses and choruses, but with Spencer, this was essential. This makes Spencer hard to follow, even if you're someone who understands what he did very well, he still did more of talking through songs than actually singing them. There isn't a thing wrong with this habit, it just gets us thinking about how hard Hylands' job was. I'm sure even Banta would have found Spencer to be rather difficult to accompany. Banta at least didn't have to deal with too many singers like Spencer at Edison and Victor(exceptions being Billy Golden and Silas Leachman). Keep in mind that Banta did indeed accompany Spencer on Victor and on Spencer's early Edison records. 


All right then. I should end it here, I was going to talk about Ruby Brooks in this post, but there seems to be enough to do an entire post on him, so that will be next!

Hope you enjoyed this!

Locations and Record Studies

Within the past two days, I have been looking through Google Earth once more for the locations of  where early studio stars lived, and where businesses were, as according to The Phonoscope of course. Some of them lived a reasonable distance from the Columbia studio at 1155-1159 Broadway, but some lived rather far away. I would say that Russell Hunting lived the farthest until 1897, when he moved closer(much like many of the other artists did). Hylands lived pretty far away until 1899, when he moved to the probably very expensive place at 27th street, just a block away from Columbia's studio. I have come to believe that one stretch of 27th street was something like "Columbia Row" or maybe "record row" in the late 1890's as there were a handful of record companies and publishing houses located in this very specific area. This is much like the whole "Tin pan Alley" thing, but that was on 28th street. I noticed that much of the publishers Hylands associated with in 1899-1900 were within a one mile radius of where Hylands Spencer and Yeager was located. Notice the address of the publishing house here:

16 West 27th Street. 
That's a location that is actually shown in The Phonoscope to have been where J. W. Myers kept his "Globe Phonograph Company" in 1896-97. The location of Hylands' prized firm was right in the middle of all of these businesses. 

33 West 27th Street.
Yep, just a few houses down, there was the madness at Hylands, Spencer, and Yeager. Hylands probably didn't want to publish the tune just above himself, so he took it to his friends just a few houses down. From examining the building in which his firm was at, he probably bought out more than half of the structure for his firm. In the 1900 census, it must be noted that Hylands had several people living with him, still, and this was taken in June of 1900, when the firm was just starting to wind down a little bit. I had forgotten however that Fred's father Charles was the head of the house, of course, because he probably had lost some trust in his son by 1900. Though losing trust in Fred probably began long before that. I find it very funny how when the census taker came by all the recording stars, they didn't really know what to say as their occupation, as sometimes it's more specific than others. Hylands' in 1900 says simply "musician", though we well know that he was working at Columbia in 1900 and also working at theater's after his day's work at the studio. I can remember from reading through the 1910 census for Arthur Collins, and he listed his occupation as "phonograph singer", which is actually the most accurate response of any I have found so far, until I find out what Len Spencer, his wife, said. 

However, Collins was saying that in 1910, and that's when the idea that being a phonograph singer was actually a well-to-do occupation, not that is wasn't so before that. 1910 seems more like a reasonable year in the development of the phonograph. If I can recall correctly, Banta simply said "musician" as well, though we know that he was at the height of his term at Edison and just beginning his next commitment at Victor. Banta lived much more comfortably than Hylands did, having two house servants and a home in a nice part of town, with an accommodating wife and two great kids, Banta lived more like Steve Porter or J. W. Myers, rather than Hylands choosing to live like a true musician, just with more money to burn, and how he threw it in the fire!  

Hmm, to change the subject, I have been listening to a singer I usually refuse to for some reason, Henry Burr. 

Yes indeed(he looks a little like Hylands!)
It's amazing to think, but Henry Burr began recording in the piano accompaniment era. He began just early enough to have had many experiences with Fred Hylands, not really Banta though, he just missed that opportunity. Now among the powerhouse Columbia duos in the piano accompaniment era, from Spencer and Hylands, to Collins and Harlan with Hylands, Henry Burr and Hylands was a real amazing feat. 
Why? Well, think about it for a moment, the only reason I'm not a big Burr fan if because he was a man similar to Arthur Collins, who was very hard to get along with, and was not praised for his personality, just like Collins was. Hylands was, as we know, full of himself and fully confident with his playing all the time. When you put those two together, one can only imagine the sort of tangle that was created at every session with the two of them. At most of Burr's earliest sessions, he recorded sacred songs, with organ by Hylands, and as I have explained before, Hylands was not skilled on the organ(reed organ that is...). Since Burr was new to Columbia, he didn't really know of Hylands' antics there before 1900, which means that he was missing quite a lot of it. 
Anyhow here are a few of Burr's records with Hylands:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder9750
This one is particularly fantastic. Burr was really an astonishing solo artist in his earliest days of recording, as his earliest records are often overlooked, which is unfortunate. 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder4884
This is Burr's remake of  J. W. Myers/ Gaskin's take of this, that is why the cylinder number is that of a brown wax Columbia. Whenever I listen to Burr's earliest records, I can almost hear the bickering between the takes with them. These would usually begin with Burr telling Hylands that he did something too loud or could've played better. 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8064
Now onto his sacred cylinders, with Hylands' mediocre organ playing. There's not a doubt that these records with Hylands and Burr were among the best of the late piano accompaniment era, as Burr was quite a change from the recording stars of the brown wax era, and once he and Murray came in, it was clear to the old "Columbia clan" that a new era was beginning, and it was nothing like the one they had created. 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder10942
Burr was essentially doing what Steve Porter did in the late 1890's, by recording all of those sacred songs, but this time, they used the organ much more often. It must be noted that Columbia used a reed organ without any long pipes, whereas Edison had an organ that actually used pipes that extended several feet in height, which made for a much purer and darker sound than the reed organ at Columbia. 

Before I get into another subject, I must hold off on the idea for the next post I will do, all I am saying for now is that it has to do with Les Copeland and Hylands being compared stylistically. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

More on Fred and Etta Hylands

For some reason, to-day I've had a sparked interest in these two siblings mentioned at the very top of this post.  I have really been trying to piece together the personality of Fred Hylands' obviously progressive and independent sister Etta. I have described Fred many a time on this blog, and it sometimes would seem like the two of them were both very bright and varying characters. In trying to piece together the history and character of Etta Hylands, it must be known that she married several times and had several children from the men she married(and didn't marry!). That in itself is really odd for that time period, as looking up many women from that time, you really won't find too many ladies with a story like that. 

Etta first married in 1893 to a man whose name was  Charles Calkins, but I could be wrong. The research I have done on her is a little confusing. She was 18 when she first married this man, and she was right out of the house, away from Fred and Charles quick. She left bachelor Fred and her father at home after she dashed out with her first husband. She married right after her mother died in 1893, and wasn't seen again by her brother and father until after 1900. As I have explained before, Fred remained single until 1895 when he married Marie and moved out to Milwaukee later that year. Of course, being the man his father was, he followed them to Wisconsin, needing the financial support they could offer. Meanwhile, somewhat near Chicago, Etta was living with this man for only three months after their marriage until he died of smallpox(how odd is that!) the circumstances of her second marriage and third are still to be uncovered. She was probably a lady who would become bored with men if they really weren't that passionate and caring for her. She must have grown tired of him by 1900, as it was around that time that she married again. Once again, I do not recall all the names of her husbands, and I am not exactly sure of who is who. She's a little hard to track down when looking her up. 

It was around this time frame(1898-1901) that her performer children were born, by this, I mean the "The Hylands" children. These kids were an act that was begun by their mother around 1907, where the children would perform, while their mother would be at the piano behind them. She probably had a similar style to her Ragged brother, one that was strange, powerful, and full of musical mirth and wit. I would guess that she was just as comical and eccentric as Fred, from not only what I know about Fred, but also that I have heard from the descendants of her that a cartoon of her playing piano exists. That explains quite a lot, just that fact alone. I wonder if one of Fred exists somewhere... 

Etta's most famous child was her daughter Ethel Mizpah(interesting middle name...), as she was formally known, is the most interesting of and mysterious of her children. Why? Well, she's the one that was born out of wedlock, and also that she was the one who was specifically mentioned in a few issues of Variety. 

One of which is here, from 1911:

It's odd heh? One of Fred's nieces. Hm. Sounds about right. 

 I wonder if any of Fred's recording friends ever got the chance to meet Etta(the only one I am almost certain met Etta was Burt Green, why? Well think about it for a moment, she probably stayed at Fred's house/firm headquarters at some point in 1899-1900, and guess who was there more often? Burt Green.)Anyhow, back to "Little Ethel" as she was known. The fact that she was illegitimate is something that I did not know until the kind descendants of Etta had told me, so what that means is that this fact was never spoken of in that time period, and thinking of the era, it was probably very well hidden. Something like that would never have passed well with Fred, who probably learned of it quick. When he learned of the birth of a bastard child from Etta, he must have rolled his eyes. It's pretty certain that they both heard from each other back and forth about their travels and performances from 1900 to 1913. 

Etta seemed to be pretty busy between 1907 and 1915, with her act showcasing her clearly talented children, dealing with letters from Fred, hearing of their father's death in 1909, and who knows what else! 

Hmm, to stray from the main subject of this  post, I just got sucked into watching the 1942 film The Yankee Doodle Dandy, and I am criticizing almost every scene, not just for those typical 1940's flaws in historical accuracy, like with hairstyles and women's dresses, but for some of the dialogue that comes by. OH! that scene where Cohan's character runs into Eddie Foy at the premiere  of George Washington Jr. just went by and all the esoteric puns by the both of them are hilarious! Eddie Foy was a popular dancer of the 1890's and 1900's by the way. Now, at the next scene, which is the opening of George Washington Jr. , they don't sing the "Grand Old Rag" with the "Rag" part of it, but that makes some sense. they could have easily gotten Billy Murray to come and sing that song as it was originally intended, as I think that Al Jolson did that for one film where he came out in blackface imitating someone else. Shoot, I can't remember what it was he was in, but I just recall that Jolson was older and that he sang an old song in blackface. They could have had Murray come to sing "Grand Old Rag" and it would have made that scene a thousand times better. 

Hm, a lot of what happens in this film could be applied to the story of Fred and Marie Hylands, minus that very weird(and romanticized) dynamic between George and his wife, which certainly was changed by the customs of 1940's and 50's films. 

Hey! Also that scene where the woman is singing "Over There", one, the way she's dressed is very incorrect for 1917, as it looks far too 1940's, from her hair to her shoes. The main problem with the singing at one part of this scene is how the singer syncopates the vocals of it, that that is actually not right for 1917. The original way it was sung(as heard on records by many, including Billy Murray) was supposed to be straight on the rhythm, because it was intended to be a one-step, which was not really syncopated. 

Now just to really nerd out, it's really kind of funny how Fred Hylands released a show on broadway in 1905 called The Yankee Doodle Girl  which, not surprisingly, was overshadowed almost completely by the big Cohan show The Yankee Doodle Boy. But you know what, Hylands' show(which was performed after the first few successful runs of Cohan's) Hylands' show might have actually been a joke response to the Cohan show, which was extremely popular when it was performed. But by how popular the Cohan show was, and how it made Hylands practically broke from the losses, Hylands probably hated Cohan for as long as he lived(thought it's interesting to note that he was a member of the White Rats Union, starting around 1909...). 

Anyhow, sorry about the weird tangent toward the end of this post, the movie was really interesting(even though I've seen it a few times), and I had to get into it a little. It's like whenever I watch Showboat from 1936, there's so much to take in, and for old broadway and vaudeville nerds like me just go crazy over. 

I hope you enjoyed this!