Despite the fact of Columbia's ledgers being long gone, we can piece together how complicated the building picture above was as a workplace for the talent, electricians, attorneys, laborers and everyone else. After a long discussion on this topic yesterday, it made me realise that Columbia was a larger operation than just the recording, even though it could be thought of that way beforehand. Columbia's 27th and Broadway headquarters were the center of the action for the staff in the late-1890's, it was where all the recording was done, exhibitions given, and primary store for record sales. The building seen in the image above was purchased by the Columbia management in 1896, and began operation in the first two months of 1897, a page from the July, 1897 issue of The Phonoscope wrote a very detailed description of the building seen above:
(it's the first article in the edition!)
The building was certainly one of the brightest things on Broadway, and every description of the ground floor parlor never fails to describe those electric lights. In the section above, it is said that there were seven hundred incandescent lights. Seven hundred! Damn! Seven hundred chances to start a beastly fire is what that is! I'm sure it happened at least a few times, like those times when Len Spencer thought he could go an fix something simple, but it turns into a big problem. Remember this here, that was referred to many times later by the Columbia staff as an ongoing joke:
Indeed so, thinking of Spencer, he probably would have offered to try to fix more things like this, even after the piano practically screamed at him not do it on his own, and got what he deserved in trying to do so. Maybe piano tuning, light bulb changing, and running the pantograph machines in the basement. Other dangerous things like that seemed something he would try just because he could. If they didn't have one of the younger boys working there go to change the lightbulbs or clean the windows, one of the more ambitious Columbia clan members would go to it, like Len Spencer or Russell Hunting, or maybe even Victor Emerson. Remember that this was the 1890's so there would be little kids(little boys) running around the studio rooms to do small practical jobs, like cleaning the windows, carrying around crates of cylinders, going to fetch things from wherever to bring to wherever, and cleaning up the studios, such as the supposed gilt mirrors they had in the exhibition parlor(that's stereotypical Victorian alright!). It is clear that they had electricians there, and since there was such a terrible mess of electrical there, they most certainly had more than one, other than Frank Capps. One thing that I wonder if they had there in parlor was the supposed fad of multicoloured light bulb displays.
It has been said that many phonograph parlors had light bulb displays that weren't just yellow-ish or white, but were red, blue, green, violet, any colours that could be dyed into glass. Maybe every once in a while when exhibitions were held at Columbia, they changed out come of the light bulbs for red or blue ones, or something wild and somewhat psychedelic like that. If they ever did that, it certainly would have made it more of a spectacle than it already was.We know what those exhibitions were like, and the great picture I've used countless times explains it better than any descriptions I've found:
The recent finding of the three electric fans makes this picture even better. Just to refresh, I am going to attempt to point them out in this picture: one is at the very top of the rack to left of the column that cuts it almost in half, another is on the shelf just below it, immediately to the left of the column, and the third one is set on the piano platform just behind whoever's elbow that is standing next to AtLee in the center. You may notice that the fans were running when the picture was taken, as they're a bit blurry, and that adds a sense of charm to it that makes the picture seem ever more less staged than every other studio picture.
A few studio stars and workers kept their mail at the building, and that was probably stored in the basement of the building, or maybe on the top floor where all the recording rooms were, either place would have worked. The recording rooms were always said to have had music going on, with some kind of activity constantly going, and people always moving from room to room, up and down the stairs, and back and forth through the halls. It seemed there was always something brewing, and gossip and stories being thrown around at every corner. The season of exhibitions in 1898 however must have especially been this way, since so much planning and organization went into hosting these exhibitions. This is exactly why The Phonoscope is such an interesting and rare look into Columbia's studio gossip and inner workings, in a way that having ledgers wouldn't, and this can be proven by going through Victor's very complete and well-preserved ledgers.
I have gone on rants before about Columbia's studios at different times of the year, and with knowing the electric fan feuds, it brings a better sense of what it was like to work there in the summer. They could have had more than three though, that would have been really helpful and would have diminished the amount of fights that ensued from these. At least one in every room would have done the best, though I'm certain that Emerson's and Easton's offices had all the luxuries the studios upstairs didn't. Of course, times in the winter there wouldn't have been any better, after they sent one of the young worker boys down to the basement in the morning to light up the furnace, and get the radiators running, even if that could have caused some racket, they probably didn't have them in the recording rooms, and since they were on the top floor, it would stay warmer up there, maybe. The studio at 1155 Broadway became a place for many famous people to make appearances, as indicated in a few sections from The Phonoscope, though it was stated that this was more so when exhibitions were held, which makes more sense in that matter.
One thing that was mentioned a few times in later editions of you know what, was a comical section about how the studio stars would show up in paydays all dressed up, standing on the corner, lined up to "carry off the coin" as stated in the November edition. It must have been a real spectacle to see them all lined up, dressed like dandies and swells, all smiling to take home their hundreds of dollars for their weeks' or so pay. Wonder if this was so in every salary day? How that would have been great to witness at a distance, probably sitting there on the corner of the other street for hours drawing as much as I could!
Now for some music!
These newly slowed down transfers are continuing to come along, with fantastic ways to finally hear these records made at the studio pictures above, and in others that were of a different name, such as Edison and Zon-O-phone. The new transfers for this post are two records recorded in 1898, one is by J.W. Myers:
and the other is by everyone's favourite "temperant" Dan W. Quinn!
The first record to be exhibited(ha! inside joke!) is a fantastic take of a rather boring but pretty Victorian song. Many of these old Victorian songs could be described that way, unless they're Will O'the Wisp or Captain Jinks, heh, both of which Myers recorded incidentally!
Anyhow, here's his fantastic and beautiful, newly slowed down 1898 recording of "Alice, Where Art Thou":
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YeXhGWUF0LXg0MHhZUTg3Qk50TU5NbGZENzUw/view?usp=sharing
We can clearly hear that big long room they recorded this in, and the tone of the piano. I have explained before why I really like pianos to sound like the one on the cylinder just above, not just because old pianos generally sounds like that, but also because it actually has to do with how pianos were made in that time. With that old design, it made them sound more like guitars than a modern piano as we know it, and the sound of the piano in the record above exemplifies this fact. It's Columbia's old crappy piano, the one that was flipped over by Len Spencer in 1897, still sounding as aged and Victorian as ever, yet very pure, earthy, and dark. That's how Victorian pianos were supposed to sound, dark and "wirey", yet very pleasing to only certain ears. Many modern Rag-Time pianists don't realise this, they only think of it as an inaccurate stereotype, and many Scott Joplin freaks think that Joplin wouldn't have settled for a piano that sounded like the one on the cylinder above, but he probably hadn't a choice but to play a piano that sounded like so, since pianos generally sounded like that!
Ha! take that neo-Classical Joplin freaks!
Sorry, do excuse that.
The second record to be listened to is a fantastic piece of 1898 Rag-Time by Dan Quinn, and it's one that many people didn't know had lyrics, here's Quinn's 1898 Columbia of "At a Georgia Campmeeting" newly slowed down:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YS0RDV2hHeXd0QXdPQW5YMjA3bTdkeUxqWWpJ/view?usp=sharing
It sounds amazing now, and all of Hylands' syncopation is very loud and clear, with all the typical yet atypical rhythmic stylings he had. This one particularly captures the syncopation better than most brown waxes he's on I've heard, and really captures the genius of Hylands' Rag style, that was very unique. His playing is so well captured on this record, that this transfer can be used as a reference in trying to identify his playing on other records from later on. It's very representative, and catches most of his distinctions, except for the walking octaves, which was an important aspect to his style.
Keep yer ear-tubes runnin' out thar!
A few studio stars and workers kept their mail at the building, and that was probably stored in the basement of the building, or maybe on the top floor where all the recording rooms were, either place would have worked. The recording rooms were always said to have had music going on, with some kind of activity constantly going, and people always moving from room to room, up and down the stairs, and back and forth through the halls. It seemed there was always something brewing, and gossip and stories being thrown around at every corner. The season of exhibitions in 1898 however must have especially been this way, since so much planning and organization went into hosting these exhibitions. This is exactly why The Phonoscope is such an interesting and rare look into Columbia's studio gossip and inner workings, in a way that having ledgers wouldn't, and this can be proven by going through Victor's very complete and well-preserved ledgers.
I have gone on rants before about Columbia's studios at different times of the year, and with knowing the electric fan feuds, it brings a better sense of what it was like to work there in the summer. They could have had more than three though, that would have been really helpful and would have diminished the amount of fights that ensued from these. At least one in every room would have done the best, though I'm certain that Emerson's and Easton's offices had all the luxuries the studios upstairs didn't. Of course, times in the winter there wouldn't have been any better, after they sent one of the young worker boys down to the basement in the morning to light up the furnace, and get the radiators running, even if that could have caused some racket, they probably didn't have them in the recording rooms, and since they were on the top floor, it would stay warmer up there, maybe. The studio at 1155 Broadway became a place for many famous people to make appearances, as indicated in a few sections from The Phonoscope, though it was stated that this was more so when exhibitions were held, which makes more sense in that matter.
One thing that was mentioned a few times in later editions of you know what, was a comical section about how the studio stars would show up in paydays all dressed up, standing on the corner, lined up to "carry off the coin" as stated in the November edition. It must have been a real spectacle to see them all lined up, dressed like dandies and swells, all smiling to take home their hundreds of dollars for their weeks' or so pay. Wonder if this was so in every salary day? How that would have been great to witness at a distance, probably sitting there on the corner of the other street for hours drawing as much as I could!
Now for some music!
These newly slowed down transfers are continuing to come along, with fantastic ways to finally hear these records made at the studio pictures above, and in others that were of a different name, such as Edison and Zon-O-phone. The new transfers for this post are two records recorded in 1898, one is by J.W. Myers:
The first record to be exhibited(ha! inside joke!) is a fantastic take of a rather boring but pretty Victorian song. Many of these old Victorian songs could be described that way, unless they're Will O'the Wisp or Captain Jinks, heh, both of which Myers recorded incidentally!
Anyhow, here's his fantastic and beautiful, newly slowed down 1898 recording of "Alice, Where Art Thou":
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YeXhGWUF0LXg0MHhZUTg3Qk50TU5NbGZENzUw/view?usp=sharing
We can clearly hear that big long room they recorded this in, and the tone of the piano. I have explained before why I really like pianos to sound like the one on the cylinder just above, not just because old pianos generally sounds like that, but also because it actually has to do with how pianos were made in that time. With that old design, it made them sound more like guitars than a modern piano as we know it, and the sound of the piano in the record above exemplifies this fact. It's Columbia's old crappy piano, the one that was flipped over by Len Spencer in 1897, still sounding as aged and Victorian as ever, yet very pure, earthy, and dark. That's how Victorian pianos were supposed to sound, dark and "wirey", yet very pleasing to only certain ears. Many modern Rag-Time pianists don't realise this, they only think of it as an inaccurate stereotype, and many Scott Joplin freaks think that Joplin wouldn't have settled for a piano that sounded like the one on the cylinder above, but he probably hadn't a choice but to play a piano that sounded like so, since pianos generally sounded like that!
Ha! take that neo-Classical Joplin freaks!
Sorry, do excuse that.
The second record to be listened to is a fantastic piece of 1898 Rag-Time by Dan Quinn, and it's one that many people didn't know had lyrics, here's Quinn's 1898 Columbia of "At a Georgia Campmeeting" newly slowed down:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/0By7WuiOUrg7YS0RDV2hHeXd0QXdPQW5YMjA3bTdkeUxqWWpJ/view?usp=sharing
It sounds amazing now, and all of Hylands' syncopation is very loud and clear, with all the typical yet atypical rhythmic stylings he had. This one particularly captures the syncopation better than most brown waxes he's on I've heard, and really captures the genius of Hylands' Rag style, that was very unique. His playing is so well captured on this record, that this transfer can be used as a reference in trying to identify his playing on other records from later on. It's very representative, and catches most of his distinctions, except for the walking octaves, which was an important aspect to his style.
Keep yer ear-tubes runnin' out thar!
Hope you enjoyed this!
