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! 

Organizing some of this pianist mess(or re-doing a guide to early studio pianists...)

Much of what I have said about all of those earliest studio accompanists on this blog are things that come directly from the recordings, and are based on their backgrounds, and more than half the time, these unfortunate artists are never mentioned in catalogs. It really is like untangling a huge ball of string, that will perhaps never be untangled completely. How frustrating this whole thing is... I cannot best express how much of a headache this entire studio pianist venture has become, and Columbia's lost/destroyed ledgers really don't help at all in this. Sigh...

 I have been advised to try and put together a list of four recordings for each of these pianists' styles, and I ought to think that the easiest and clearest place to start would be proving the studio term of Frank P. Banta. 

This picture came from an obituary of Banta in a newspaper from 1903. 

Banta at Edison's studio piano in 1902. 

The only reason that Banta is easier to pinpoint as a definite studio pianist is because he was mentioned later by many studio stars as an accompanist, and also that he was famous for his transcribed solo of "Violets". It also helps that he was in that picture of the 42 Edison recording stars from 1900:

here's a closeup of Banta:

No. 35 he is. Love that look on his face! 

Now that in itself secures the fact that Banta worked for Edison, seeing him in that picture has higher advantages than a catalog(it helps that he was very distinct-looking in this case...). 

Now as for identifying his style, which is the hard part. 

Banta's musical background has been debated over the last eighty or so years, and even back in the era in which he lived there were conflicting statements, and misleading connotations. One source(one of those who worked with Banta), claimed that he was self-taught and learned from a very young age. Whereas another source stated that he was very well-taught and learned theory, tuning, and sight-reading. One thing is true however from these claims, Banta had perfect pitch, and was able to play anything be ear, as several sources, including Dan Quinn's Walsh letters, stated that he was able to play something right off the spot if someone threw a title at him, as long as he had heard the song before(which, being a studio pianist, he certainly would have).To give Quinn's letters more credibility, he named his youngest son after Banta, and he worked with Banta the most at Edison in 1899-1902, from that, he certainly recalled those times with Banta fondly and full of detail. Banta was mentioned in a handful of catalogs from 1899 to 1903, since he made a few piano solos in that time, one being "Hello Ma Baby", and another being "Violets", though sadly, the latter was much more popular and common. That is very helpful in trying to figure out Banta's recording activity. 

Picking four recordings that illustrate Banta's style are hard to some extent, as he was reported to be on a few labels, and was liked by many recording stars, so he's behind many studio stars. It's not at all biased with Banta, unlike Hylands at some points...

The first one that I have here is 1901 Edison cylinder with Arthur Collins. It's a recording that has caused some buzz in the record collecting community for the Rag-Time piano accompaniment so early on. Here's "Lam Lam Lam" by Arthur Collins. It's a rather early example of Rag-Time, still with all sorts of tricks that were lost as the Rag-Time era went forth. The one trait in this piano accompaniment that really is distinct is that rollicking and rhythmically even improvisations in the right hand, also the choice of chords in the left hand rhythm. There are also some strange rolled octaves that can be heard at about 2:06 that was distinct about many Victors(that Banta also worked for, according to some of their ledgers). The improvisations are very easy to understand and are not out of the rhythm at all, unlike some Columbia's from the same time period. 

The next recording is Silas Leachman's famous recording of Ben Harney's "Mr. Johnson Turn Me Loose" form 1901. This is not only a fantastic early recording of Rag-Time, but it's also one of the best examples of Banta's Rag-Time style. It has pretty much everything that was distinct about those Edison cylinders, the gradual speeding up, improvisations free of mistakes, steady kept time, and the ending chord with the fifth. One item that came along with Banta's Rag-Time was a more "dotted" syncopation, which, if you know anything about music theory, means that it's very slightly syncopated and at times sounds a bit stiff and old-fashioned. It makes sense that this is so according to Banta's obviously trained background, and the fact that he grew up in New York, not anywhere in the midwest or far out in the Western states.  

This next one is an earlier example of Banta's style, which is still comparable to the other two above, even though the style is much more "dotted" and old-fashioned, yet still syncopated to some extent. Here's Billy Golden's 1897 Edison take of "Turkey in the Straw". It's a much more old-fashioned sound, but it's also got Ragged playing in there, which is dotted and stiff much like the playing on the other examples above, also, there are also some hidden and hard-to hear fifths in there, including one at 1:32-33, and also are audible occasionally throughout. Also, the record is ended with that same fifth and chord that the others had. This take is almost identical to Golden's 1903 re-recording of this on Edison as well. 

The last one I have in my immediate reach at the moment is a recording with Will F. Denny on Edison. Here's Denny's "Go 'Way Back and Sit Down" from 1901. This recording is also a great piece of Rag-Time by in many respects, and it has many of those lost traits that were on the recording of "Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose", some of those fifths, and stiffness. Banta was able to play pretty loosely by 1902 and 1903(take the later recording of "Medley of Coon Songs" with Golden for example), but earlier on, was getting used to the Rag-Time feel, though he really did have it in him, as we can hear recordings like these listed here that are great pieces of Rag-Time regardless of the stiffness. The stiffness could not easily be noticed by someone not really listening closely, as it's pretty easy to miss most of the time. 

The fifths paired with "dotted" syncopation are really what distinguish Banta's playing, and they are not just heard on Edison's, as he's in that picture for proof, they are also heard on many Victors from the same time as well. There are other recordings made for Edison and Victor that would be good examples, but these main four are what I will stick with for now. This style would definitely suit Banta for his background, regardless of the fact that he was trained or not, it fits him for the place that he grew up, and that he came into the Rag-Time fad later, he was no pioneer in this matter, even if he worked with Vess Ossman before he was a regular recording artist. 



Now for Fred. Hylands.

Hylands posed with the Columbia orchestra, at the piano in Columbia's "big room" in  mid-1898. 

Hylands in Columbia's exhibition room in August-September 1898. 

Hylands is still a controversial figure with pianist identification, as I still haven't been able to prove myself of my theory that Hylands was at Columbia for longer than just the entirety of 1898.  It's hard to know about Hylands, as the only suspicion that got my interest sparked in him was the amount of times he was mentioned in The Phonoscope, as that's where the two pictures above came from(he's not identified in the first one, but as we can see, it's most certainly the same figure, just one image has him with more stately posture). 

This character's background says everything about his style. He's a fascinating character, which is of much contrast to Banta. He was born in Indiana, and raised in Indiana as well. His first instrument was the fiddle, and he began to play the thing at about the age of 10, learning who knows what when be began. It's likely, considering his location, that he was playing old songs from the Appalachians and even precursors to Rag-Time. By age 12, he was beginning to play piano, and learning how to rather quick, possibly being self-taught in reading music. Not long after he began at the piano, his parents took notice of Fred's and Etta's talent, and decided to have them become performers. They traveled around the Fort Wayne area, and occasionally went into northwestern Ohio. By 1887, Fred was working alongside his father at a grocery store/saloon, as well as playing some music there on occasion. In 1893, he and the family moved out to Chicago for the world's fair, and after the fair, they remained there for a few more years. Almost as soon as Fred got there, he was working in local vaudeville houses, and learning the newest underground fad of the "rag", or in those days called "jig-piano". He learned from the best, watching Ben R. Harney play, black professors who came to the fair, and other well-known pianists in the local saloon communities. By 1896, he was becoming known as a "Rag" pianist by playing syncopated music, as his earliest published piece was from 1896 and it already anticipated the big "rag time" fad soon to come with strange melodic improvisations and syncopated rhythms. in early 1897, he was out in New York performing at various theaters on 14th street, and earning his fame as a music director and and authentic "rag time" professor from Chicago.  it took until the middle of 1897 for local record companies to decide that they needed a new pianist, in this case, especially Columbia.  
Around September 1897, Hylands was beginning to be used as a substitute pianist in their studio, as by the end of 1897, much more often very ragged and "hot" playing can be heard on their records, in a style that is the polar opposite to the pianists there before. 

Picking four recordings with the style described in the section above is a little more complicated than picking some for Banta's style, because there are many more examples of the unique style from late-1897 to as late as 1905. 

The first example is a record by George W. Johnson from early or mid 1898. It has one of the most ragged accompaniments I have ever heard on any brown wax cylinder, and it has some even more strange distinctions adding on to the uniform syncopation. Here's one of Johnson's many takes of "The Laughing Song" from 1898. The playing on this very unique, and it's very much different in feel and syncopation style than the previous style exhibited, and it sounds much more natural and not stiff at all, unlike the last ones. It's got many distinctly characteristics, such as the syncopation pattern throughout the record, and at the very end, also the bass pattern in the solo after the first chorus, which is something I have only heard on Columbia records. The main thing to take away from the style on this is that there is not only heavily syncopated improvisations here, but also the one quick bass thing at 0:59-1:00 or so, that little attribute is very important to this style. 

This next one is a popular take by Billy Golden from 1899, a year after the last one. Here's Billy Golden's 1899 take of "Turkey in the Straw". Now the first thing to be said here is that it's a dramatic contrast to the 1897 take of this by Golden on Edison. The first thing to note is that same syncopation that was on the last one, the same natural "feel", and those bass patterns(and lots of them...). This record most certainly has the same pianist on it as the last one, and they were recorded pretty far away from each other date wise. Another important attribute to this style is the walking broken octaves, which is very strange to hear, but was played often in this style heard on Columbia records from this time. Those walking bass octaves are heard several times on this Golden recording. That ending pattern is also something that is heard only on Columbia's, as it can be heard at the end of this 1903 record here, and the walking bass octaves can be heard at about 1:08 on this 1905 record here. All of these are also in that same style, just configured a little differently, but with the same distinctions. 
This next recording is a fantastic rarity by J. R. Johnson and Bob Cole, who were members of the "Frogs" Club, which included Jim Europe, Bert Williams, and George Walker. This one is actually two takes recorded on the same day in 1902. Here's one of the takes, and then for the other one. There are so many strange things in the piano accompaniment on these records, but most of the same attributes from earlier are present on these takes. One thing that is heard often on both of these takes that I did not mention is the swift trills of thirty-second notes in the intro and in the first verse. This attribute was also part of this style that was on Columbia records, you might have already heard it on the records just above, as every one of these records has it somewhere, such as this Cal Stewart rarity from 1905(it's the fourth thing listed on the page). This Collins record shows off all of the walking bass octaves that could fit in every place, much like this 1899 record here(music begins at 6 minutes...). The mix of "dotted" notes with very syncopated notes is also part of this style as well, and these two Collins takes exhibit it in perfect harmony. 

This final one is actually a Zon-O-phone from early 1903, also by Collins. Here's his Zon-O-phone of "Bill Bailey". This record almost exhibits every thing that was explained in the records above, but it gets one aspect across that very few of these other ones did. This one shows off the "feel" that I mean better than any of these records so far. This record exhibits many Columbia pianist specific traits, especially the syncopation, which is pretty much identical rhythmically to that of this 1898 cylinder here, and also at the solos on this 1901 record here, as well as most of the other records in this section listed. That quick run of right hand octaves beginning at the second chorus at 1:30 is also the same thing as some of the improvisations on this 1902 record here. 






You may have noticed that I did not at all use Hylands' name in any of these examples and explanations. The only reason I did that is to save all of that for this section of the evidence. I now have to tie the style to Hylands in a logistical way. Do all of these attributes match the background that Hylands had?

Yes. 

Why? Well, if you know anything about how the earliest published rags were written, you might have noticed that all of the composers of these tunes came from Chicago for the most part, Kentucky, Ohio, or Indiana. 
Just for full proof of the similarity, here are some examples:
 Max Hoffman's "Rag Medley" of 1897

Ben Harney's "Mister Johnson Turn Me Loose" from 1896

Max Hoffman's "Ragtown Rags" from 1898 

I know this is a lot later, but it's from rural Indiana, and it's in the same style, "The Stop Rag" from 1913.

Theodore Northrup's "Louisiana Rag" from 1896(published in Chicago in 1897)

Robert S. Roberts' "A Bundle of Rags" from 1897(published in Ohio!)
(this one even has the rare added bonus of left hand melodies like from the records!)

Robert S. Roberts' "Pride of Bucktown" from 1897

even really early Rag pieces exhibit this style to a high extent, such as:
Carl Lexhoizt's "The Ebony Funeral" from 1894
and even
F. Neddermeyer's "Opelika Cake Walk" from 1892


All of these published Rags exhibit much of the style that I spoke of above, and with the background Hylands had, that style would almost certainly be his. If you're looking for a published composer of early rags that has a writing style the most similar to Hylands' style, Max Hoffman is one, Ben Harney is another and actually, Robert S. Roberts is the closest to Hylands' style as far as I have come with this. His "Bundle of Rags" is very very accurate to Hylands' style on late-1890's Columbia records. This style of Rags did not last very far into the 20th century sadly, as by 1905-1906(with a few exceptions like "Pickles and Peppers" and others) that very syncopated and playful style began to fade, and didn't last throughout the rest of the Rag-Time era. 



To many scholars I have spoken with, this style of playing(Banta's and especially Hylands') is a much more real representation of Rag-Time, and what it was actually supposed to sound like. You may disagree with me you Joplin lovers, but only Joplin's early works were in this style in any sort of way, but as time went onward, that began to fade away from his compositions. 

I will soon do a post on Edward Issler's style and Gaisberg's as well, but I will have to do more studying of their playing and backgrounds in order for that to happen...

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Mentioning of Hylands by Jim Walsh, and a mystery cylinder

Well, from what I was sent this morning by Charlie Judkins, it would seem that Jim Walsh mentioned Hylands a few times. FINALLY! It's about time we see that he mentioned Hylands...

I wanted to use this picture in my last post, but anyway, here you go:

If you read the "whip" analogy I used in my last post about Hylands at Hylands Spencer and Yeager, this makes full sense. 

I just saw this when I thought about that. It's kind of awful, but it's funny. 

Since that picture just above is of Hylands, it fits the subject of this post to a high degree. 

It would seem that what Jack Stanley told me was true, Walsh did indeed know about Hylands being a pianist and publisher, but not much more, as there was nothing to be done in regards to Hylands when he was researching all these recording stars. As, by the 1960's, when he wrote these articles that mentioned him, most of Hylands' closest relatives were long gone. It was only his nieces and nephews who were still living by 1955 and 1962. His wife was long gone by then, and all those who worked with him were as well(they all died off in the 1930's and 1940's), Billy Murray was the last surviving recording star to have worked with Hylands in Columbia's studio. It's strange to think, but it's true. Walsh mentions Hylands in the context of his publishing firm ventures, as he was following the flow of The Phonoscope editions that mention him, probably just like this: 
(this is some of them in order)

(May, 1898)

(July, 1898 still makes me laugh...)

(also July 1898)

(this goes with that exhibition picture I use so often, which is from September 1898)

(Also September 1898)

(February 1899)

(March, 1899)

(Also March, 1899)

(May, 1900)

And so on, you get the point. Hylands was mentioned in many Phonoscope issues from 1898 to 1900, as he was a first-class character and eccentric at Columbia who rose his way up rather quick, just by becoming a publisher. He had more activity in The Phonoscope than many other famous recording stars did, just look through their issues, and you'll be surprised. 
Walsh noted all of the obvious sections, including all of the ones above, save for that one with the quote that we all know of. I guess it's because Hylands throwing out a narcissistic compliant means nothing to a researcher looking for information on other recording stars.
It's still unfortunate that Walsh didn't bother to dig deeper into Hylands to eventually do an article on him, but as I've said before, Walsh only cared about the singers and performers, not many accompanists made it into his articles, though Banta was mentioned often. Banta was a special case though, and we know why. 
I still wonder if it was a lack of information about Hylands or if it was that the surviving artists who were interviewed speaking of him in a not-so-easy way. It was probably a mix of both, since there weren't many resources out there to find him,  and he already spoke to the last surviving studio stars and workers who would have worked often with Hylands. It's really great to see Hylands mentioned in Walsh's articles anywhere, as it gives this whole Hylands thing much more credibility, as Walsh's writings are the go-to place for information about any of these recording artists. 






Now to change the subject slightly, just as I was writing the post, a very interesting record was sent to me. It's very mysterious, so some analyzing needs to be done to think it through. It's a very strange recording, with no company attached to it, and no performers either. Of course when a cylinder like this comes by, anything is possible! 

Before I dig into it, here's the record:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5303
Very strange indeed. 
There's no information given, so it doesn't help, though from what I can hear, it sounds like an "off-label" Columbia, maybe a pirated one? Now if it's affiliated with Columbia in any way, the Cornetist is probably Tom Clark or David Dana. The Clarinetist is probably William Tuson more than anyone. I am not usually one who can tell tones apart in wind instruments, but that Clarinet playing is definitely Tuson. It sounds like the piano gives away some hints. 
That piano sounds a whole lot like Columbia's awful out-of-tune piano of 1897, of which you can hear examples here: 
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder5303
(do excuse the home recording, most of what needs to be heard is here.)

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder7959

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder9969

As I have said, the cause for the awfully out-of-tune piano likely came from Len Spencer flipping the thing over in earlier 1897, as reported in The Phonoscope: 

Yep.(from the May, 1897 issue of you know what)
That^^ is why Columbia's piano sounded so damn awful for several months of 1897, thanks Len! 

One of the theories I have about this cylinder is that it was probably a pirated Columbia, or something along those lines, and that it was recorded in one of Columbia's recording rooms at 27th and Broadway. It sounds like it might be that room: 

But! Something about it makes me think it's the inevitable. Their exhibition hall! Seen below:

The room sounds very large and tall, more so than their upstairs room(in the orchestra picture). It be strange to think that this mysterious cylinder was recorded in their exhibition hall, but there's a possibility. I'm not saying that it's a cylinder souvenir from an exhibition(that would be amazing though!), but something's strangely familiar with the sound of that piano paired with that room. 
If more information was listed about it, then I could probably jump to pianist conclusions, but there's no way to do that here. The pianist has the power and heavy hands of Hylands when he played their awful piano early on in his term, but there's no reason it can't be Edward Issler either. Also, it must be noted that the announcer on Tom Clark's "Schubert's Serenade" is the same as on this mystery cylinder. 

**If you have any guesses as to what you think that cylinder is, make comments on this post! I'd love to read your guesses!**

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Columbia's prized Pianist, and the Mystery of Edward Issler

Fred Hylands

This man is still a fascinating specimen as far as this whole early recording business goes, and I am still trying to understand his complicated personality. 

Reading through Tim Brooks' masterpiece Lost Sounds really made me realise more of Hylands' strange doings, that in so many ways were really well-hidden from most of the recording staff. He was a hustler, almost to the high degree that Len Spencer had in this aspect. He did feel he had to make Spencer his primary salesman however, so something odd comes into question there. He always was in everyone's business, and from learning that he had a hand in The People v. George W. Johnson, really tells me that he had that in him. In the May, 1900 issue of The Phonoscope, it is mentioned that Hylands sold much of his sheet music catalog while out on tour during that month. The section that I used a while back about Spencer leading a minstrel show out in Dyker Heights was part of this tour. If you'll recall, Hylands was the bones player, and did some piano playing as well, as expected. I bet Harry Yeager managed this show, along with others they did on this tour. 

Hylands' under-the-table deals were sometimes inconsiderate and somewhat evil, as they were all for his own benefit, and for his father's and for his wife's. His father was head of their household, which indicates that he didn't allow for Fred to manage the bills and money needed to be paid. That's somewhat comical to think of, but it was true, and it was true from a typical father-son relationship. Charles did not trust his son, even when his son was 26, in 1898. I explained in my last post that I thought George W. Johnson and Hylands had a similar personal life dynamic. Hylands was said by all sources from the time in which he lived to have been a very amiable and comical character, who made friends wherever he went. This may be true, but the thing that deceived those who befriended him was that soon after becoming acquainted, he would become a different man. He was a man who was different when he drank, much like George W. Johnson was. When sober, he was kind, amiable, quick, and alert, clearly showing his intelligence. However, when intoxicated, he was moody, insolent, and violent. All of these would certainly end many friendships, but his playing was so highly regarded that no one wanted to lose his services. This is why, despite all of these obvious faults, Columbia's staff kept him for so many years. It is still surprising to me that Columbia was willing to keep him for as long as they did, as it really shows a sense of trust that they had in him, even though he wasn't always one to be trusted. It also shows how important piano accompaniment was in the business for so many years. 
It remained essential to have a studio pianist for much longer than many would think, as some believe that the piano accompaniment era ended in 1903, and from there on, only orchestra accompaniment was used, which is true only to some extent. The death of Frank P. Banta prompted a forced change on the Edison staff, they still had two other pianists, but Banta was the most prominent of them they had, and the most irreplaceable. When Columbia dropped Hylands, they were completely done with him, and all regular studio pianists. That was in about September of 1905, very late on for piano to still be used, later than I would have thought. Many records from earlier in 1905 still had that piano accompaniment, with the same style that was heard back in 1899 and 1900. It's strange to think that he was still willing to come in to Columbia in 1904 and 1905, as he was beginning to perform on Broadway by then, you'd think that he had enough of Columbia by that time. Apparently not. He was needed for Rag-Time songs, which were still very popular, and in that, his style still fit the slightly different style. 




I still don't know what happened to Edward Issler. I still have the feeling that Columbia didn't exactly drop him in 1897. I go back and listen to some Columbia's feeling like the pianist is someone else, other than Hylands that is. The only two people who worked at Columbia in 1897 and 1898 who would be willing to play piano regularly would be these two:

Edward Issler, and 

We know very well that Schweinfest worked at Columbia, as well as Issler, but most who know anything about Issler would know that Issler's orchestra stopped making records regularly in 1897, and in very small batches after that. All Issler's orchestra records disappear from any catalogs by 1901. Issler's doing after 1900 are unknown, and it's possible that he remained working for Columbia as a second for Hylands. If that is what he did, he probably didn't like being a second to Fred Hylands, for a variety of reasons. It's very possible though, as Columbia certainly had at least two other pianists while Hylands worked there, and Issler was probably one of them. Now come to think of it, I have just realised something...

I just listened to this cylinder here, and caught something I didn't before. Hmm, that trill sort of thing that I know of Hylands doing, well, I heard Issler doing it here. That's really strange! Somehow, it makes sense, as when Columbia was looking for a pianist in 1897, they were looking for a pianist that was at least vaguely similar to Issler, their then-sitting pianist at the time. It's starting to make some sense now. The next question is:

Where's Issler when Hylands was working there?

That's a hard question to answer, but we would have to look back at some of Issler's accompaniments to distinguish a specific style. I know I have done this before, but Issler's a little hard to catch for some reason, though he was what Fred Hylands became at Columbia a few years later. 
You know what, Gaskin's cylinder of "After the Ball" is a fantastic example of Issler's style, of which you can hear here:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8097
There's a lot to listen for here, but it's very well recorded, to pretty much everything can be heard clearly. much of what I hear on this cylinder sounds like an early version of Hylands' more "straight" accompaniments that were on songs that weren't labelled as "coon songs" or Rag-Time songs. That does make sense. So, with this very odd trait, it seems that I've found the pianist on that infernal recording of "Uncle Jefferson" by Billy Golden. Here is that cylinder:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder11728
I just knew that it couldn't be Hylands. 
From this picture here:

It already seemed pretty obvious to me that Issler was their regular pianist. That's the same piano that can be seen in that Columbia orchestra picture that I use so often. The slightly syncopation is still very odd, even if it is Issler, it's still odd to her him try it out. 

The one thing that made me really think it was Hylands on "Uncle Jefferson" was that strange twelfth chord thing the the final chord. Really take a few listens to that solo at the end, it's very strange. It pretty much sounds like a stiff Fred Hylands, that must be the way to describe Issler's playing. One thing is for sure, Issler is not on this one here:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8436
We know that this one is Hylands of course. That is exactly the style that they were describing in The Phonoscope, that is what they were advertising here:

"Mr. Hyland's[typo] rag-time piano accompaniment..."
That's right. 
When that was said, no more Issler(well, for the time being, he came back soon...). Since that picture above of George W. Johnson with Issler was taken in 1897, and this was taken in later 1897:

it seems that the transition was made in that timeframe. We knew that was true, but these two pictures say a lot just being what they are. By the way, it must be noted that these two pictures were listed on the same page in the July 1898 issue of The Phonoscope.  One certainly is older than the other here. 
I still hope to find out what happened to the studio genius Edward Issler, and it hope it wasn't something awful, as he certainly deserves recognition for the amazing studio work he did. I hope that Columbia still employed Issler after his orchestra was dropped from their catalog, as he certainly needed it, and Hylands certainly needed a few days off here and there...

Hope you enjoyed this! 

A mysterious poster and other things

As promised, I drew a portrait of John Yorke Atlee, after finally finding a picture of his last evening. So without any further a-do, here's that sketch:

Yep, those whiskers were sure magnificent. He certainly had those "long, flowing whiskers" that Gaisberg described. Now come to think of it, he looked a little like Edward Issler, which is very strange, because Issler was German, and Atlee was Scotch(hence the red whiskers). Just to get the comparison more clearly, here's an image of Issler and Atlee:

Issler

and 

Atlee. 

Hope you can see it now somewhat. It's very strange really. 

This somehow reminds me of that whole picture debate with this picture here:

Yep, that one...

Of course, the only person that anyone could easily(well, kind of...) identify was that man at the piano to the far right. I have explained why it's Fred Hylands, but some who I asked about the picture said Edward Issler and Schweinfest, which is not a completely terrible guess, but it's incorrect regardless. Issler was short, rather thin, and had distinctly shaped ears, as you can see in that small picture a little higher up on this post. Schweinfest was the more logical of the guesses I got, as he was not tall, however, he was on the heavier side, wore glasses,  had a handlebar moustache, and also distinctly ears. Though Schweinfest was a more common guess among those I asked, it was also incorrect. The pianist in the picture just above has long legs, wide arms, glasses, a distinct-looking nose, a short neck, wide expressive eyes, very fair hands, and a pink and freckle-stricken face, which could only be Hylands, early on in his term at Columbia(by early, I mean c. January-July-1898). 

*Before I get to something else, I must point out that some of you might notice, if you're an old photography nerd, that this picture seems not to have been retouched, as many old pictures were. That fact makes this picture very real, and if anyone ever finds the original of this picture, it probably will be a fantastic image to behold! The only reason I don't think it's retouched is because of how Hylands' face looks in the light. It looks very shiny and like it was probably very pink or red, which is hilarious!*

Now to get into the second part of this post. Amid my travels on Tim Brooks' website last evening, I stumbled upon a great article about going to visit Jim Walsh in 1970, which you can read here:

http://www.timbrooks.net/PDFs/walsh70.pdf

It's a fantastic look into Walsh and his inner workings! 

There was a specific image in this very article that captivated me, one that might not seem to be that way at first, but being very attentive to detail, especially in images, it got me quick. Anyhow, here's that picture:

Seems like something typical at the home of Jim Walsh. 

The one thing that caught my eye immediately was that torn-up poster of Len Spencer to the right. I was captivated by it, as it was like nothing I'd ever seen before. Many know of Walsh as being a first-class eccentric, with several cats wandering around his home, and his house filled to the brim with some of the most valuable items of the early recording business, and not just with the rarest of recordings, but everything else one could think of when it comes to early recordings. Of course, Walsh had many posters like the Murray and Spencer ones just above, but that Spencer one is very curious to me. 

Hmm...If I were to make a guess as to what the circumstances around that Spencer poster were, I would say that it was made in the late 1890's, more specifically c.1897-99, maybe for the promotion of his minstrel troupe, or maybe just his minstrel skills on recordings, or maybe just an exhibition piece? It's something that I certainly want to know more about, if possible. First thing however, I would like to see the poster in its entirety, that way, it's likely that the purpose of it would reveal itself, also what that little blackface character that is being eclipsed by that image of the Murray poster is, and if it's supposed to be Spencer in blackface. It just might be! It would be fantastic to see a cartoon-like image of Spencer in blackface! He must have been a real riot in his minstrel attire... 

What's also odd about the poster, is that it gives a very clear image of Spencer, much more so than some of the images I have seen of him for some reason. Don't know why, but it does. Take this image for example:

This one gives a good image of Spencer and his obviously self-revealing habits. 

Of course, the poster would not accentuate the appearance of his scar that Ada Jones once vividly described.  Also the small scars from awful acne, that you can see somewhat in the picture just above, which is uncommonly seen in pictures of him(thanks to retouching...). Other than Spencer being a very strange-looking chap, the poster makes him seem just as so, and I don't feel like I need to go on about the comparison of the poster and the image, I will allow you all to make your own comparisons. 

To close off, a kind distant acquaintance posted a fantastic record by Hylands and a clarinetist this evening, that was absolutely wonderful when I first heard it. After hearing it just once through, I found it to be where Hylands sounds the most drunk of all of the Hylands records I have heard so far, and that's really saying something! He exhibits all of his attributes while drunk, from the anxious playing, to the uneasy tempo, and the distinctly playfulness with the soloist(love that attribute of his!). The playful nature of Hylands' playing can be heard on pretty much everything he was on, but there are some where this fact is especially prominent, and as could be expected, it's more so when he was drunk. Anyhow, here's the record:

"Salome Intermezzo" recorded in 1901(on the extremely rare "broken ring" Climax label!)

How Hylands sounds loaded... 

Wow, this take is really the worst of the many takes I have heard Hylands play this song. Apparently, since it was recorded so many times, it can well be assumed that it was a big hit in 1901 and 1902. This take is very hard to keep up with when playing it by ear, I tried it, and really couldn't, because Hylands' rhythm is so unsteady and rushy, much more than usual...

H ope you enjoyed this!