Studying Studio pictures

A subject that is highly-praised in this field is the presence of early studio photographs, many of which are from Edison studios in the 1910's. Most collectors who have seem early studio pictures have seen the more typical ones of the Edison recording rooms, since there were so many images published in magazines of the Edison headquarters. Of course, there are plenty of early studios that we will perhaps never see, since their ledgers are completely gone, and nothing was left of them. 

To begin on this matter, I would like to showcase this fantastic image from 1892:

The date is luckily written on the original image, and it was inscribed "Sept. 24/92", which saves any age debate that might come along with this image. 

It appears to be one of the oldest Edison studio images I have seen, and it's their studio, not any of their other departments in the process of record making and selling. This is what I want here, it's a picture of where they made the records, to then go through all of the other parts of the process. It's a pretty cluttered room, seeming like an unorganized mess, with a hodge-podge of everything that the Edison Phonograph Works had to offer at the time the photograph was taken. You might have noticed that there's a "talking doll" set on the edge of the piano on the right, which is some great placement there! There's probably specific music set on all the music stands in this picture, but they appear to be unreadable from the quality of the image, if only we could see what music is there! One thing is for certain, is that Edison had some very nice pianos in their studio early on. Those pianos look very expensive compared to the ones that were used later in the same decade. The fact that the pianos are not uprights, and are much more classy tells you that it's certainly a recording studio from the preliminary days of the recording business(1889-1892). They had not learned yet that using very expensive and fancy pianos for the studio was a very bad idea. That was something that was learned not long after this picture was taken it seems. The one thing that this image is missing is the gaudy light fixtures, as the early studios were still set up in a similar way that the pianos were, very fanciful and gaudy Victorian, since it was still the 1880's essentially. You can see one of these exquisite light fixtures I mean here:

Amazingly overkill! 
Now that is a Victorian parlor. And it's Columbia! 
That just goes to show that my theory of Columbia being the company of gaudy parlors, frivolity, and wealth is true. That parlor it just astonishing! I have never seen such an amazing display of Columbia's inner workings, or just anything in terms of Victorian interior design. It combines a Gothic inspiration with crystal draped gas lamps, just lovely! Other than that, this image gets the point across that Columbia was dedicated far more than Edison to creating a great first impression, with being as ostentatious as they could. 

That picture just above is not exactly a Columbia studio picture, but this one is:

Now it be time to play a game of where's Waldo, looking for Len Spencer! 
He's probably somewhere in this picture, way in the back behind the horns.

This picture was indeed taken around the same time as the picture just above, so if you think you've found him, leave a comment on this post! 

Anyway, that Columbia picture seen above has been used on Tinfoil.com, and is originally from an 1891 edition of The Phonogram. It is a promotional photo for the U. S. Marine band making records for Columbia in their earliest days. One of which you can hear in the link below:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WzmOgcum4c
The announcer on this has yet to be identified, but he seems to have been a regular announcer for the Marine band on their early Columbia records. 
The handful of 1890-91 recording by the Marine band can be accessed on Youtube, just like the one above, the one in the link seemed the most musically interesting to me immediately, so there are others if you'd like to hear more of them. 
What's great about the 1890 Columbia cylinders that survive is that you can really hear the setup, and that it's just the same one that they used in the picture above. That doesn't often happen with these records, since the balancing was so well done later on that oftentimes we can't really tell how things were set up in the studio. 


Now I have said before that I firmly believe every early studio picture is staged, with specific things put in designated places, and out-of-place balancing with instruments. This cannot be said for the Marine Band picture however, that seems to be one of the the rare occasions where the scene was barely manipulated at all before the picture was taken. It's obviously staged though, regardless of that observation, since one of the trumpet/cornet players in the very back row has his instrument down, and some of the overall setupdoesn't look right. It also seems strange that all of them are in their marching uniforms, though that may have been more common than assumed. This setup was also used by Sousa's band later in the mid and later 1890's, as a cylinder like their fantastic ragged rendition of "The Darkie's Temptation" from 1896.(rag-time geeks take note of this recording, it's a very important one in terms of authentic pre-ragtime, and it a great early Rag-Time piece overall). If you listen closely to this cylinder, you can tell that it's balanced the same way that the 1890 cylinders were. That means that since it worked, they kept the method for many years. 

Columbia's studios were well-photographed it seems, though not many of the original photographs exist after the destruction of their ledgers. The amount of images that were exhibited in The Phonoscope of Columbia's studio really tell how important they still found their presentation. These images were scattered all around record catalogs and advertisements in New York, as their most popular attraction was the exhibition hall, seen below in two different views:

inside to the right, on a hot early September evening

and in front of the place from the middle of Broadway

These two photos give you a very realistic and candid view of Columbia's famed exhibition hall, that supposedly attracted thousands of people a week in the Summer and Fall of 1898. The analyses of these images are endless, since there's a thousand small details in both of them, and there's so much to wonder about when looking these pictures over. Just to point out a few things about the first picture, the flag under the bunted one is well torn, there's an electric fan on the very top of the rack abreast the column in the centre and another one attached to the edge of the piano platform, John Yorke AtLee(in the middle of the picture) is standing on two large books, Hylands is the most formally dresses in the picture(ha!), there are weird looking gas lamps far toward the back of the room, even though there is a monstrous display of (possibly multicoloured) electric lights, and a whole lot more than just those things. These observations are small things that take a while to easily spot. In the second picture, you may notice that the setup inside the parlor is pretty much exactly the same as it was in the other picture. The piano is faced a little more to where the keyboard would be directly facing the doorway rather than a little tilted as it is in the exhibition picture. 

Just up those stairs that can be seen in both of these images would be two more floors of long hallways for recording, rehearsing, mailrooms(though I think everyone's mail was in the basement...), and offices for the managers. Many of the staff members used Columbia's address for where their mail went to, which is strange in a way, since I'm sure that things would get confused sometimes, and since the furnace was probably down there, they would all gather in a group to sort through mail when it got below freezing. 

Just up those stairs is where you could find scenes like these:

the Columbia orchestra and Fred Hylands in their "big" recording room(in this terrible lithograph thingy of a photograph from 1898)

and this famous photograph of George W. Johnson posed in recording action with Edward Issler in 1897.

These photographs give a very unique view of Columbia's recording rooms, and show how different each room was, as they are very different looking for rooms for the same purpose. It must be pointed out that the first studio picture of these two is the most obviously staged of all these studio pictures I have seen. So much is not right about the setup, as the singer(or announcer?) at the horns is posing as though he were singing or something like that, and the rest of the orchestra is being cued(maybe?) by Tom Clark with his hand up. Also take notice to how queerly Hylands' hands are positioned, one is down, but the other appears to be doing some weird thing I cannot really describe. Also, notice the coats hanging on the wall to the extreme right behind Hylands, as well as the scraps on the shiny floor. The Issler and Johnson picture is very straightforward, though I can tell that one is staged as well, since Issler would be playing behind Johnson when he was singing, not adjusting sheet music it seems, adjusting music would make too much racket. The setup in the Columbia orchestra picture is really comical, with chairs on tables and table on chairs, it's what's to be expected from Columbia and their ragged gang of "thieves" as Edison once called them. But of course, only the piano had its own invention for being balanced correctly, everyone else had to problem-solve for long while Hylands sat contently at his throne that was rigged up by Len Spencer and some of the other early Columbia staff members. 

These images are fascinating, and next Tuesday, I have to do a short presentation on the exhibition picture for my English class. I showed my teacher what I will be presenting, and she looked over the image practically laughing at how weird it was. She thought the angle was strange, the flash too bright, torn flag misleading, and the brass bars not a great idea on their part. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

New Findings, exhibitions, and strange sheet music

Yes, it has been ten days since my last post, and this time, I have not been out on another music festival adventure, which usually a long hiatus such as this would indicate. It has been a time of learning new things from those of whom I spoke in my last post, though I will keep them anonymous still. One of the findings included information about the notebook that once belonged to this chap: 

Yes indeed, Len Spencer. 

I have spoken very highly and often of his notebook that is held at the Library of Congress, and still have yet to actually hold the thing in my hands. As far as I have heard of the "sacred" contents of this notebook, it would seem that it really was a piece of ledgers from late-1890's Columbia! It would seem that there are many record numbers listed in there, such as no. 7487, which happens to be his recording of "My Hannah Lady" from 1900 on Columbia. 

So, since that record is listed, that would mean that this notebook's timeframe literally splits right in the middle of his time working with Hylands at Hylands Spencer and Yeager. It was written in at a perfect time for Spencer! Not everything was told to me of course, as there's no way everything could be explained to me at one time, the only way to know that would be to actually sit down and read through it. Though I was told that most of it was written in ink pen with a thin and sharp nib, in that beautiful script that he practically created(to some extent).  

The one that we al recognise from the world-famous "Coke" logo, that is just like this: 

and this: 

Indeed, these works of art were just nicer versions of how the man wrote normally. I have more examples of Spencer's not-as-formal writing, and they aren't in pen either, but those cannot be shared just yet. Even without more examples, you get the point. All of the writing in that notebook looks like the examples just above. Once I hear more of what the contents of the notebook are, I will get to it and figure out more about it. What has been said so far is a good sign, and says that this notebook is not useless by any means. Some friends of mine a while back said that this notebook might be useless to recording information and might have nothing to to with Spencer's popular Columbia's from 1898-1900, but they were very wrong. 

Since yesterday was the 4th of July, I dressed like a familiar face...

That lady Columbia on their boxes! 

That be correct. It actually looked great for once, since it was a last minute decision. I looked like an exhibition piece from them in July of 1898!

 Speaking of exhibition piece, they must have had an immense gathering on July 4 of that year, since that was right in the middle of the period where the exhibitions were happening every night at their first floor hall. It was in the summer of 1898 that these exhibitions were a popular Broadway spectacle, with July through September being the most eventful of the months. Their July 4th exhibition(which was on a Monday night just like this year), must have not only had a feast for everyone, but also had some of the daring and confident young ones of the staff lighting off the fireworks out in the street, at a moment where no street cars were rushing down Broadway. Of course those lighting off the rockets would be the Spencer's, Roger Harding, Russell Hunting(who was still living in the U. S. at the time), Steve Porter, and probably Fred Hylands also among other familiar faces. We have seen how well-decorated their hall was in September 1898: 

but try to think of how extraordinary that room would have looked just fully two months before this picture...

It must have been an absolute zoo there on that night. How much fun it must have been! Master Easton and Vic Emerson probably came to witness it for once, since they never came to the exhibitions for some reason(even if they were the ones who decided to do this). 

The final thing I would like to discuss is a piece of music that I got in the mail last week or so, written by a familiar pianist mentioned often here...

Wow! What a cover! 

It did help that all of the covers on Hylands' music were unique and eye-catching... 

Yep, that's Hylands' 1912 composition, "The Lightning Rag". The first thing that made me slightly sad is the fact that the first thing under Hylands' name was guess what?

"You Don't Stop the World from Going 'Round"

That song was 13 years old by that time! Whew, they could have at least acknowledged that he was a Broadway show performer, or something between 1899 and 1911. Hmm, that was very strange to me, I guess that that tune of his really was popular, as much as they had described in The Phonoscope, as not everything in that magazine is completely true, or at least after Russell Hunting left them in November 1898, and as we know, everything on Hylands Spencer and Yeager came after that. This music was not published by Hylands' second-to-last vanity firm, which is what I was expecting, which might indicate that his "The Rag-Time Boardinghouse" came a little bit later in 1912. There were many interesting little things buried on the sheets once I got it open, but once I looked at the back, I found a little something strange:

What! Really? No foolin! 

That was unexpected. I didn't look at the advertisements on the back page until several days after I got the music for some reason, but how I was in for a surprise. I had not seem any written music of Etta's before, and was hoping to from the kind descendants of hers, but had not until last week. Of course, it's not a piece of Rag-Time for good comparison to her brother's, which really would be great though. Another thing to notice here is the fact that the publisher at the bottom states "Hylands and Hylands", which is fantastic. That can only be the siblings in this case, since Etta didn't know about being a publisher, and Fred had experience in the business(not the best one could get however).  It's just strange to see the two of them doing anything together, but apparently, it did happen! 

*This music is for you Ali and Anna!*

Hope you enjoyed this! Sorry about posting for so many days, hopefully there won't be as much of a break before my next post. 

Record identifications and inconsistency

After speaking with Ryan Wishner briefly last evening, the idea struck us that Columbia's record slips of the late-1890's were inconsistent and very different from each other. Berliner records from their beginning to 1897-98, had all the information about the record etched onto the wax by the performer. Most of the time, those records are very hard to read, depending on the performers who signed it. Usually, Quinn's Berliners were much easier to read than Billy Golden's, and Russell Hunting's were in-between difficulty. By 1897, most Berliners had the selections and numbers etched clearly on there in print, not by the hand of the artists themselves. Though, in 1898 to 1900, many times you can see the well-printed information, but the signature of the artist one either one of the upper corners of the label, such as on this record here. Yes, I know Collins signed the bottom, but most of the time, the signatures were either in the left or right hand corner, next to the title. On Len Spencer's Berliner of "You Don't Stop the World from Goin Round", he signed the upper left corner, as one of my friends reported from owning the record. 

That's Berliner though, all the information is clearly etched or printed on the records there, this isn't like Columbia. Columbia is still a frustrating area for record collectors(not that Berliner isn't), from the absolutely despicable decision made to destroy their ledgers. It makes everyone wonder how they were able to keep track of their heavy recording activity, which sometimes consisted of two or three things going on at one time. This does not count exhibitions however, when they did those, all recording activity upstairs would be suspended until the next morning(so they would send everyone else home!). Of course, with that fact(as described by Frank Dorian), there would have been two or three pianists, like Fred Hylands, Schweinfest, and Issler. That sort of thing is not indicated anywhere however, this is why for decades there was only a handful of collectors who had the thought that George Schweinfest was their regular pianist in the second half of the piano accompaniment era(1897-1905). Most people excluded Issler, because they assumed that once the orchestra split up, he was no longer working there, though logically, they couldn't have dropped him in 1898, because Fred Hylands was working there then. 

Anyway, enough of the pianist thing, I could go on for pages about that, because I'm still trying to undo all of the tangles of misinformation that previous record collectors and historians left behind. Of course, if Columbia's ledgers were still in existence, we would all be able to know more about everyone who worked there in the prime of their recording (before 1910), we would also know how they were able to keep track of everything. I have always had the feeling that they not only had certain management workers keep track of things, but they probably also had some of the artists volunteer to write things down and keep track of recording done on certain days. Since a lot of Columbia's functions were done from artists volunteering, it wouldn't be too much of a surprise if Master Easton and Vic Emerson had them do that as well. 

I have been told by the one collector friend of mine who has had the chance to read through Len Spencer's notebook that Spencer wrote down recording dates, songs he recorded, and songs to learn and later record. That is exactly what I mean here! That seemingly small thing is actually a piece of Columbia's ledgers! So, if Spencer did that, others probably did too,  one other person who most likely did that would be Issler, or George Schweinfest. I want to think that Hylands would do that, but he probably wouldn't. Once I go out to see that notebook, I will make sure to make notes about what sort of information is present there.  

There is not a way to know how organised Columbia's ledgers were, though one way to get some hints is their inconsistency with record slips. 
Here are a few:

these came from a page of the Dan Quinn CD put out by Archeophone. 
the third one on the far right is for a Phonetic record, the other two are Columbia's. 

Yep, none of the Columbia's look the same at all. 
I have always found that weird. 
Why are they all different? Edison record slips pretty much all looked the same, after about 1897 that is. Maybe Edison was just more organised? I don't know. Not sure what the different slips mean, but it says something about how they ran things there. I still don't know if that little thing written in ink on the slip just above is "LS" or "H". If that's an "LS", then that would be Columbia's take on the Berliner label of the time, with the title, number, singer, and the singer's signature(kind of in this case...). The names "M. T. Poland" and "Chas. Carson" on the slips in the picture a little farther above indicate the recording engineer, which, strangely enough, is not indicated in the "LS" slip. The full title of the song is also not indicated either, as it isn't in one of the other slips in the other picture. 
I like that they put simply this for two of the slips:

"Cake Walk" rather than "The Grand Coonville Cake Walk"
and 
"Wabash" rather than "On the Banks of the Wabash"

They must have not needed all of those extra words, also to save time, which also gives the impression that they had harder to understand ledgers, that were organised, but in a strange way, that is in some places incomplete. Of course, if more of those record slips are out there, then one of them might be a lucky one where the pianist is identified, which, as I have seen from more obscure labels, did happen sometimes. In the earlier days of the piano accompaniment era, there were listings that had the pianist identified, such as in early Edison and North American pages. You can see an example of these on this video here. Of course, North American records didn't have record slips, because they had the channel rim for the paper label. Most of the paper labels are gone, as it is very rare to find one with the original one still in tact. 
Here's that channel rim I mean:

This one unfortunately has lost the paper label as means of identification. Like many records, this is one that you just have to listen to find out what it be! 

Anyhow, back to Columbia's strange record slips. Just for a good comparison, here's an Edison one from about 1898:

It makes sense, and is very clearly stated what is one the record. No signatures and stamps included. The signatures not being there is a not much of a loss, but the fact that it can be clearly read and understood makes me wonder about Columbia. As we all dig into Columbia Vs. Edison debates, we learn more about how strangely different these two companies were. The volunteering basis at Columbia is something that Edison never did, as Edison's primary staff weren't a group of friends who went out together after recording days. The two staffs stayed together as expected, but one was more friendly and cordial to new people than the other. They were in the right places though, as the pianists they had, couldn't have done well at the other company, though Banta would have fit in well at Columbia, he just wouldn't have approved of the habitual gambling and drinking as much. 

Since I'm on the subject of Columbia's records, I glanced through the record list of their records once again, and I ran across some titles I hadn't seen before. I forgot about the "Vaudeville specialties" section at the 30400 mark numbering system. Unfortunately, there were only ten of these, but each one of them is fascinating. 

Here's the list:

All of these look fantastic. 

The only one I have heard is the second one listed, Spencer's "Musical Moke". From what I have observed in the ways of Columbia records, there were a few of those sort of "Actor imitations" records scattered throughout their catalog from 1898 to 1903. Wonder who's on no. 30404... There's a strong possibility that Harry Spencer is on that one, since he's on the 1903 take of the second "actor imitations" record Columbia issued. The "Stuttering Specialty" record is probably similar to Len Spencer's "The Stuttering Monologist". 

The one record that really has me anxious to look for it is 30407. 

Comic Dialogue Between Comedian and Musical Director

That sounds better than fantastic. This not only sounds great for what it describes, but also by who's probably involved. Len Spencer is probably the comedian, and of all the people that the musical director could be, it's possibly Fred Hylands. Well, he was the one musical director who worked at Columbia, so he would have known what the sketch could be, and how to make it most realistic. If it really is Hylands speaking in that sketch, someone needs to find it!! 

**If anyone knows if there's a copy of Columbia 30407 out there, please write a comment on this post!**

Hope you enjoyed this! 

An Extraordinary picture that must be Spread!

My father sent me the most amazing picture, and I cannot at all believe that it exists. It is very similar to the Columbia exhibition picture:

Now what is it exactly? Well, here you go:

I was speechless. 

(I wonder who that is... It's pretty late as I'm writing this, so I'll save guesses for tomorrow)

I don't think much needs to be said about this picture. I must point out though that you can actually see much more than you think at first glance. You can pretty much see EVERYTHING in their exhibition hall. I mean it! The piano, the flags, the electric lights, the white rack,  the COLUMBIA PHONOGRAPH COMPANY printed in huge font at the top of the back wall, all the phonographs, the brass bars, some chairs, and even the stairs that go to the recording rooms upstairs! I cannot get over how amazing this is! From this picture, you can even tell where the photographer stood to take the exhibition picture! Just in case you can't really tell, that photographer stood to the right(according to the picture just above) more to the corner of the building. In this picture, the piano that Hylands was sitting at is facing slightly left, but the keyboard is facing toward the camera, unlike in the exhibition picture. 
One thing I just noticed, the stairs that are visible in the picture just above are actually visible in the exhibition picture! See it? I can't see the twig-like railing, but I can see the bottom of them. The pretty scaffolding that can be seen all over the ceilings of the exhibition picture is also slightly visible in the picture just above, with the electric lights seemingly growing out of the walls in even spacing. 
Hmm. After taking at least thirty individual looks at this picture just above, I seem to understand the setup for the exhibitions a lot more. Why? Well, imagine yourself where that single man is standing, and entering into that madness of the exhibition picture, what would you see across the street? The back of a fat piano man from afar, sitting at least five feet above the crowd, and a crowd of hundreds, of all people, men, women, children. You'd also be able to hear the cries of a leather-lunged speaker, hollering at the top of his lungs the words of how these great people on this platform will play for you all to-night, for the cost of merely fifteen cents. This building would be the brightest thing on Broadway for miles, and surely full of mirth and vigor. It's also the loudest thing for miles on Broadway, louder than all the street cars and braying horses. I wish they took a picture of the whole front of the building, so we could see those weird windows that we can see the back end of in this picture:

Now that this picture paints a clear image of the Columbia 27th and Broadway headquarters, we now have a very clear understanding as to what these elaborate and lavish exhibitions truly looked like. The rest is all yours to imagine. 

*share this amazing picture with your record friends! It needs to be spread around because of how historic it is! Columbia pictures are exceedingly rare to find anywhere! Also, it's not a studio picture either, it's showing the even more unusual sight of the exhibition hall.*

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies---Columbia Exhibitions(1898)

The Columbia exhibition, a joyous spectacle full of mirth and vigor.

(from left to right: Fred Hylands, George P. Watson, John Yorke At Lee, ?, Harry Spencer, and Russell Hunting)

They were truly sights to only be seen to experience, they were times where not only hustlers like the Spencer brothers could perfect their craft, but where eccentrics like Fred Hylands could warm up their hands and flick around their glossy hair. These exhibitions began every night of the week(not on Sundays of course...), at about 7 in the evening, after setting up had been done for two hour previous, and by 9, they would rotate a new group of people in and maybe leaving some of those from the previous group who wanted to stay in the madness. These performances and rotations of crowds would go on until about midnight. But of course, after that, all the staff there would spend another hour and a half cleaning up, and getting everything set back to how it was before. These were a very tiresome process, that would wear out the artists more than the usual recording days would, which was already a whole lot of work. They were fun to be at, but this was more so for the people that came to witness these great extravaganzas of recorded sound, and not so much for the poor souls behind the horns and performing for the masses. 

It would all start with Russ Hunting and Harry Spencer walking in at about 4 in the evening with the banners and boxes of records. Within the next ten minutes, many of the boys on the bill for the evening would pour in slowly. Next comes yodeler Watson, confident Len Spencer, little Charles P. Lowe with his canvas sacks of rosewood beams for the xylophone, little Roger Harding, "coon shouter" Billy Golden, New Yorker dandy Dan Quinn, and fat Fred Hylands with his black leather case of music with pages protruding from the edges. They would all find their places at the parlor(phonograph parlor that is!), setting their things in various places, with most of their things going on the racks holding the machines with the long horns attached to them. That's where all their hats would go, and their gloves, and their pocketwatches, made of gold, silver, or even rare aluminum. They would look at the bill that one of the Spencer's was hammering on the wall of the front doors, awaiting for the doors to be swung open to all. As they all got settled in, in came the food to be offered to all who came, this week the food was prepared by the Hylands'. This meant that his pleasant wife Maria would come in with the plates, bowls, forks, spoons, glasses, and everything else needed. Usually at these exhibitions, a list was made for according what family would provide the food for these for the week, so one week you could get some interesting stew made by Mrs. Watson(0r Miss Newton...),  the Gaskin's corned beef and cabbage, a feast of bits of everything from the Hylands', the elegant finery of the Spencer's, or something like sauerkraut and sausage from the Schweinfests. When came a week for the Hylands', you would know there would be quite a feast laid out on their table, so dear Maria would have to be preparing for days beforehand with Father Charles Hylands for the week. As Fred and Marie were getting all the food set up, with Fred dressed up nicely, and a cigarette in his mouth, the Spencer's were getting the horns at the exact angles needed for the singers on the bill for the evening, and occasionally yelling at each other for getting something wrong or breaking something.  Steve Porter and George Watson were standing high up on ladders getting the big banner up on the wall, trying dearly to not drop anything, or hurt themselves, with Russ Hunting spotting them, and making sure they get the thing straight.  After two hours of preparing and "herding of cats", at six-on-the-dot, Len would finally get his tails on, fix his hair, go to the front doors, and say "Let 'er rip!" as the doors were opened up. They let in hundreds of people, crowded very densely into a large room, but seemed small by the amount on people that came in. It seemed like chaos, but just as Harry Spencer stood on a stool, and waved around that wooden thing that CLICKS! very obnoxiously, everyone became quiet. He begins his announcement to the crowd about what the whole thing is, and why they were there, and the great amount of enjoyment they can have being there. He would step down from the stool, and Russ Hunting would then get up on it and begin introducing himself, and everyone else they brought, and who was on the bill for the evening. Hunting would introduce the recording process to them, holding up one of their blank brown wax cylinders, and explain the need for absolute silence from the audience during the demonstration. Then the program would begin, with the first artist listed on the bill, where the room would be completely silent as the machine was started by Harry Spencer, and all that could be heard was the machine's hum and whirr... 

Then began the piano accompaniment, Hylands would play the introduction to the song that was announced after the singer's announcement. The song was executed perfectly, with not a sound from the audience until the cylinder was slid off the mandrel and the machine was stopped of its movement. The room again bursts into conversation and cheers. This same process of recording and such would continue for another hour and a half, until an intermission arrives, and all the people disband about the room, and also go outside to get out of the warm and crowded inside. These intermissions were also good for the artists to mingle with the consumers, and the curious spectators, also for Fred Hylands to at last get up and stretch his legs. Many of the conversations with the artists were about what they were paid, how they liked working there, and things related to that. Much of the food and drink would be taken during these intermissions, and many records would be bought and sold, just as the staff members were instructed to do beforehand. At the end of the intermissions, the same process would begin again, with Harry Spencer waving that obnoxious thing around, and Russ Hunting beginning the next hour and a half of recording and explaining. The bill would go on accordingly, with the artists alternating at the front of the horns, and Hunting doing all the explaining, with the artists talking about the records, and making records themselves. There would be three hour and a half sessions, with intermissions, and finally with the final bows and thank yous done just before midnight. there were always a few people who stayed longer to talk with the Spencer's and Russ Hunting, as they were the ones running the thing, and there were always some who stayed longer, and wanted to chat with them without the rest of the crowd there to listen. As the others were cleaning up, mopping the floors, taking down the banners and posters, and getting the things off the racks. Fred would slam the piano key cover, stand from his oddly shaped chair, light up another cigarette, and observe the scene from his perch up high above the floors. Fred would always be the most worn out of the artists there, only because he had to come to every one of these exhibitions, not like the artists on the bill who would rotate in a differing order each few days of these. After a big one of these exhibitions, one of the staff members would bring a celebratory bottle of champagne for everyone, and of course, Fred and Len would be the first to have at it. Fred would gather all his music up, shove it in his case, take off his tails, grab his hat, and get the rest of the plates and bowls off the table with Marie...or he would more likely wait outside for her to get everything together. The Spencer's would gather up all the machinery, get their sacks of parts together, and head out quick, still getting a little frustrated with one another as the parts would click and hit something else as they went out the doors. As Russ Hunting would finally get the last three people out at the end of the ongoing conversation, he would get all that was his and head out quick, maybe helping out Marie Hylands a little. All the other artists were gone by then, leaving only Hunting and the Hylands' getting the rest of the plates and utensils out. Hunting would turn out the electric lights, and slam the doors at last, around 1 a.m. Even though Fred didn't really help her before, he would have to carry some of the plates on their way home. Dreading for the next week of this, thankfully without them providing the food. 


*Much of this description actually was taken from examples of these Columbia exhibitions as written about in The Phonoscope, in which many were described to have provided food, and also to have the artists bring it in themselves*

*a special thank you to Ryan Wishner for giving me the idea to do this! 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Yodeler Watson, Columbia records, and stories

I don't know what it is about George P. Watson, but I really do like him for some reason. It's either his hair or freaky looking face. He was the premiere yodeler on Columbia and Edison records in the late 1890's, and gained fame in Vaudeville before that. I do not know how the boys at Columbia came across him, but it was around the same time that Fred Hylands was hired as their pianist, which was in later 1897. Watson was a hit with all the staff there, especially the exhibition crowds, which was a very important thing to be in the recording business. If you were a popular artist among the studio workers, that was great yes, but if you really wanted to get fame around the record buyers, you had to be popular on the bills of the exhibitions. George P. Watson was just that. His German themed specialties were always popular among the hundreds of exhibition-goers they had every night of the week(not on Sundays though). 

I hate to keep using it, but here:

The perfect picture of the Columbia exhibition. George P. Watson is with his back to the piano and his arm slightly up. You can see all the other "usual suspects" of the Columbia exhibitions. From left to right: Fred Hylands(of course!), George P. Watson, John Yorke Atlee, George J. Gaskin(?), Harry Spencer, and Russell Hunting. These exhibitions were really a mixed bag, and they were a pain for everyone who was instructed to come. They all had to bring food, set up the racks, decorate wherever needed(i.e. the American flag decorations for "Columbia"), get everything balanced correctly like the studio, and get a bill together for the audiences. The first thing before all of that though was picking the phonograph parlor to do all of this, as there were hundreds of them in Manhattan. They were spectacular things to come to, as you were able to meet the artists who made the records, buy records, and hear them perform right before your eyes. They began this way:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3k1jA8wo8E

I do not know who the speaker is on the short cylinder above, but I know that I have heard that voice before on cylinders. The cylinder above really gives the best example of what exhibitors were like at the introductions of the exhibitions. Just imagine that voice it Harry Spencer's, because that was who did these at Columbia, or Len Spencer for that matter. 

Anyhow, back to George Watson. His records were very popular at Columbia, more that they could have thought, as he was just a yodeler, not a "coon song" singer or vaudevillian like Dan Quinn. 

Here are a few of his records:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/mp3s/6000/6707/cusb-cyl6707d.mp3(from 1898 with Fred Hylands on piano)

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/mp3s/5000/5331/cusb-cyl5331d.mp3

Also from 1898 with Fred Hylands on piano. Recorded in that room seen here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZxeWJAZju8(from 1901 with Hylands on piano as well).

Hylands and Watson must have gotten along well, as did most of the artists at Columbia. Hylands was said to be an easy and pleasing person to work with, even though it's pretty obvious he had some faults in his personality. Watson is one of the few earliest recording stars that I am 100% sure that he was a drinker, and he seems like the perfect contender for this notion. I wish I really knew the actually artists that Jim Walsh listed in the "Drinker" category, because according to a collector friend of mine, he spoke with Walsh on the phone back in the 70's and Walsh told my friend many things that were never written down in his articles. One of the big things was the artists who had the worst studio habits. This sort of thing can lead into George J. Gaskin supposedly chewing tobacco while be sang and spitting it into the horn between takes. I don't know where that story came from, and I don't know whether it's true or not. That notion will lead me into my next post.

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Brown wax piano Rag-Time Analyzed

Freddy Hylands

Frank P. Banta

These two piano boys were the first Rag-Time pianists ever heard on records. It's certainly debatable which one of them was heard first playing these hot syncopated melodies, but which accompaniments were more "Ragged" could certainly be ascertained differently by differing listeners. 

Banta was already a popular accompanist in the phonograph business when Rag-Time became a craze in full form(in 1897 that is), so he was expected somewhat to be able to play this new style of music. He learned the skill enough to play it commonly behind the singers and instrumentalists. Little did Banta know that by the end of 1897, Columbia was starting to have ragged and rough recording sessions with their newest piano man Fred Hylands. By early 1898, Columbia's greatest hick performers(Billy Golden and Fred Hylands that is!) could be heard together having their go at the roughest of the bunch that all the singers blasted into the horns, such as Golden and Hylands' "Yaller Gal" from 1898(played far too fast though...), and also Golden and Hylands' "Roll on De Ground" also from 1898.  These two are examples of the lowest of the low class of the music on cylinders in the 1890's, the Ragged music was catchy and contagious, but still was not entirely accepted by all in 1898. However, the fact that Hylands could play very pretty and classy music, and also the seemingly class-less "Coon Songs", earned him fame and praise by all the record buyers and the exhibition goers. 

He didn't only do the exhibitions, he also did promotional shows for the Columbia staff showing off their talent and endorsing their records. The main difference between Hylands and Banta is that Hylands practically had the means for rough and Ragged music in his blood, as he came from Indiana, traveled around the states surrounding it as a youth playing everywhere, and from this hearing the widest variety of pianists possible. Banta did indeed have just as much natural talent as Hylands had, but Banta had it in a different way. Banta began playing piano as a child working in a piano factory, doing whatever he could to get some money from there, which more importantly included him tuning up many of the pianos. He did do his job at tuning them, but sometimes he would sneak in some time to play them as best he could. He caught on to the instrument quick, and was anxious for more. At last this came to his parents they and got him lessons. He was a wonder by age 20, having his own traveling band, and accompanying some popular singers. By 1893, pricky Vess Ossman came his way, and took him by the collar to drag him around on tours and performances. He and Ossman remained together for about five more years, with Ossman leaving Banta cruelly in the dust around 1898 for Fred Hylands. It was not the kindest thing Ossman did, but you can't entirely blame him, he'd been with Banta five years, and found a new love for a different pianist, who just happened to be in the same business. Even with Ossman's blow to Banta in 1898, he still was the pianist at Edison, and traded places with Hylands at Berliner. He can be heard here on Golden's version of "Turkey in the Straw' from 1898. That is the Edison version, which is of veritable contrast to his Columbia with Fred Hylands from the same year. Even if Ossman had turned away from Banta in 1898, Banta still had to work with him the few times that he came back to Edison's studio to makes a few records, like Ossman's Edison cylinder of "A Bunch of Rags", from 1898. That's Banta behind him alright, as it certainly contrasts with his Columbia version with Hylands from the same year(the first thing that comes up on the video). 

Banta was much more modest and silent, as he knew that if he complained to the management too much, they wouldn't listen, as nothing could be done to change anything. Hylands didn't seem to understand this, as you can see from this infamous quote:

He didn't really consider the fact that Vic Emerson(their manager) probably thought of his comments as a joke, and let them pass right over him. Banta knew very well that he needed to just get work done, not complain, and do what he was told. Hylands had not lived with such a mentality before he got into the recording business, he oftentimes wanted to have certain things done his way, and felt the amount of work they were giving him was far too much for him, even though with his endurance levels, he could have done more. I do have to remember that Hylands was not very good a preserving his energy for a multitude of takes, as this section proves this:

He later recorded this with Myers. I still have yet to hear the result, and I know it exists.

Banta did have opportunities to play Rag-Time behind the singers, but under Walter Miller's managing, this was not his favourite thing. Banta really didn't get nearly the same amount of opportunities to play Rag-Time on the brown wax cylinders as much as Hylands did. One good thing about Vic Emerson is that he was the same age as most of the artists he had employed at Columbia, Walter Miller wasn't. I'm not really sure how old Miller was, but he must have been born in the generation before the oldest artists on the usual Edison staff(which was before 1860). Emerson could at least enjoy and accept the rowdy new music that vaudeville had to offer. Banta only really got to play the Rag-Time regularly behind the singers later, on the early gold moulded Edison records, and on the Victors that he was on with Dan Quinn and Silas Leachman. 

Both of these piano fiends must have been entertaining to watch when they played, so that was one thing that the singers must have had to get used to, was not looking back at them when they sang. Hylands more particularly, as I think that Banta would look very focused and deep in the music. Hylands was not only and interesting character to look at, he must have been a fascinating one to see at the piano. 

Try to picture Hylands, that redheaded fat man, showing all sorts of expressions and brightness in his blue-green eyes. And with every powerful strike at the keys, more orange-red hairs weep downward. His smiles are sweet and comical, but reveal broken up and spoiling teeth. 

 Banta must have been just as interesting, but Hylands was a real riot! All his Rag-Time says for it. just like this one:

https://ia802606.us.archive.org/24/items/nobodyKnowsTheUploadIveSeen/01TheLaughingSong.mp3

The cylinder above, to me, is always the perfect example of hot Rag-Time on brown wax cylinder when looking up this subject, and there's nothing wrong with what Hylands plays either. His tempo is perfect, and he plays some things that sounds very folksy and almost Boogie-Woogie like in the left hand.

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Banta and Hylands a forgotten connection?

Yes, Hylands was reasonably taller than the others he worked with. The only problem is that I don't really know whether or not Banta was very tall, though I would doubt that he was taller than 5 foot 7. These two worked in the same business, one of the same record companies, and played the same instrument
, they must have known each other. But what was their relationship like?

Hylands

Banta

They must have met not long after the news of the new pianist at Columbia spread to the crew at Edison. This news no doubt got to Edison's pianist, Frank Banta in 1897 and he must have become curious about this new pianist. The fact that he played "Rag Time" also must have caught the ears of Banta. 
Not long after Columbia hired him, he was a hit with the large crowds of the exhibitions at the Broadway phonograph parlors. This is where Banta really must have done something to meet this "Freddy". So wherever he went to find him, he eventually did, but let's just say it was at an exhibition in the middle of the week. Here is a little historical fiction for you:

The short slim Banta enters the parlor, crowded with hundreds of people and gets the glimpse of a few faces he knows, like Len Spencer, Billy Golden, John Yorke Atlee, Russell Hunting, and Steve Porter. At an intermission, while the nice table of various foods and treats were being served, and when the artists disbanded, he looks around for that "Freddy Hylands" chap amid the crowd. He looks around for what seemed like forever until he finds a tall stout man talking with little Roger Harding. This tall man is well dressed, reasonably handsome for a heavy fellow, comically voiced, and with occasional flaunts of his reddish-blond hair argued with little Harding. 
When he finally argued enough with Harding, he rolled his eyes and spotted scrawny Banta. "You!" he began, looking at Banta, "I recognize yer face from somewhere."
"I don't think I have ever made your acquaintance sir." stated Banta, nearing him.
He shook his long twigy hand firmly, "It's a pleasure, Ah'm Freddy Hylands, and who might you be?"
"Frank Banta, Frederick."
"Hmm, Ah've heard tell on your recently, yer eh, Edison's piano man right?"
"You be correct Frederick."
"It's great to meet you finally Frank. Make sure you stay here for our next go at the machines and the next group of people."
When the next round of people came in, and when the intermission had ceased, then came the rattling voice of Harry Spencer, introducing the next few rounds. Banta watched Fred wail away the the piano as the tunes kept coming, and how he was a sight to see. With his changing expressions and occasionally looking out to the crowd with a smile, he was a star, even if he was just the accompanist. He was who Banta was up against in the business. 

Well, of course, I don't actually know how they met, but it must have been an interesting encounter as it was. They're relationship must have been kept reasonably hidden, as the record managers would not really approve of such as thing. 

I hope you enjoyed this!