Re-visiting the Early studio rules

It has been a long while since I have specifically spoken of the loose studio rules of the 1890's recording business. This fascinating and very understudied subcategory of 1890's recording has always been kicked aside from how shameful many of the oldest surviving studio stars behaved when speaking of this. Someone like Dan Quinn would have been infamous for shunning all of his old colleagues for their awful drinking habits, though he was part of it to some extent. He did not drink, but he did not offer to help any of his suffering friends.

 A cartoon I did mocking Quinn's temperance, and Hylands' carelessness. 

Of course, to Quinn, none of that mattered when Hylands was getting him much more profits from selling sheet music with his picture on it. With all of this sin, to Quinn's judgement, the studios were rife with impropriety, from the day that Russell Hunting decided to make those smut cylinders in 1892. It was clear that Columbia was a much more free, yet somewhat indecent place compared to the proper and tightly restricted Edison company. 

Quinn and J. J. Fisher must have found Edison a much more properly run place to work and make records than Columbia, as there was no drinking allowed, and certainly no drugs of any kind as well. It helps that at Edison their studio pianists had good intentions and habits. The Rag-Time pianist even had the kindest demeanor and best habits, and that is a real thing! Columbia was the place for the progressives and hustlers to work, under free and democratic conditions that allowed any means of doing so. Edison was for those who wanted a clean and good place to work overall, where the singers and performers were not integrated into the staff and management. There's a reason that Edison cylinders all sound the same to some extent. 

Columbia was where the genius misfits worked, from their beginning, that was how it was. It was much like how Berliner was at the same time. In the mid-1890's, Berliner was an interesting place to work, as Fred Gaisberg was able to tell the tales of working there in his writings for all of us to later read. He saw pretty much everything that we know about the inner workings of early Berliner. Now to refer back to the title of this post, Gaisberg had to once deal with this chap:

George Graham. 
 Graham was the infamous drunk that those young Berliner team workers got a big laugh out of when he made records in 1895-96. Gaisberg once described that he and the other young Berliner staff had to make a stand for him when he made records, since he would often get so drunk that he couldn't stand straight. It was all fun and games for the Berliner team, as dealing with him was much more fun than it needed to be. Of course, Gaisberg found this despicable, as he was against having the artists drink in studios, but his colleagues couldn't help but enjoy his shenanigans. 
You can hear a few of his great records here.
He's fascinating to listen to, regardless of the often slurred and hard-to-understand statements and words. Gaisberg was one of those early studio people who found drinking in studios to be shameful to the company's reputation, even though the fact would not have been spread anyway, he just did not like it one bit. It was a good thing that Gaisberg was working at Berliner while the Columbia people were becoming that elite group in 1897, and especially when Fred Hylands came in. 

Columbia's drinking rules were almost non-existent in the late-1890's, as the management trusted their studio stars enough to allow drinking in their main studio rooms. As can be expected, there were the studio stars who drank most every time they came in the studio, and there were those who didn't do so nearly at all. As can be guessed, one of the worst drinkers after the infamous George Graham, was...

Len Spencer.
There aren't really many examples of formal writings about his drinking, but there are hints of it when looking through The Phonoscope, as he was one of the most frequently mentioned studio stars there. One of the best hints of this was a section from the August 1898 issue of you know what:

Hmm. That's a good hint mister Hunting. I wonder if it's the same watch that we can see the top of the chain in the picture of him above...
We know that Spencer drank, regardless of reading about it or not, as his records oftentimes show for it, if you're listening close enough that is. I have heard many of Spencer's great brown waxes from 1897-1901, and they never fail to please, no matter what the tune be. Some are better than others as can be expected from him, and much of this is due to his studio drinking. He was just getting started with doing this by 1896 and 1897, but when Hylands came in, well, it was just going to get worse from there. Since Hylands had such a high alcohol tolerance(durr, the man was over six feet tall and three hundred pounds...), the drinking with him was almost daily when he came to the studio. Oftentimes, the good thing about Hylands was that when he drank, it took a while for things to start getting weird in his playing and speech, not that his speech wasn't already hard to understand...  
One good example of how strange his playing could get is his mid-1899 take of "Turkey in the Straw" with Billy Golden. It is very strange, quick, and far too complicated for most ear players to understand. It's not tame at all, as I have heard some recordings he made in 1899 with some of his publishing firm friends that sound completely sane and are much less scattered than the one listed in the link. His playing still got weird even before 1899 when he was the leader of Hylands Spencer and Yeager, as you can hear his weird and very unsteady playing on most of George W. Johnson's records from 1898 to 1900, including this one here, and also on this one.  It's strange, I have heard a few Dan Quinn Columbia records from 1898-1900 where Hylands sounds drunk, but of course Quinn isn't, and that is very strange to some extent, as I would think that Quinn(according to his letters from the 1930's) would have demanded that Hylands not drink when he made records, and would have found it despicable, but I guess not. But then again, I have also heard records where Hylands sounds just fine behind Quinn, not(technically)weird or unsteady. 
Like I've told my friend Ryan Wishner, sometimes Hylands was not exactly harmonically right in the head, which always makes for interesting listening, but many of his style characteristics in this sense were not common for the time period.  This was not helped when he drank in the studios. 

A good example of all three of the performers being pretty tipsy on is one that I have shared before for this very purpose, but it always gets the point across. Here's Spencer and Harding's "Larboard Watch" from 1899, with Hylands of course. This one always gets the point, as the first thing to notice is Spencer's announcement, which I have heard a few times sounding like it does on this cylinder. It's certainly not his more swift and lively announcements that we can hear on many of those Columbia orchestra recordings from the same time, such as on this one here from 1897. The announcement on the "Larboard Watch" cylinder reminds me a little of his on this one here. 

And yes, back to the Spencer and Harding cylinder, Harding drank indeed, as being one of Hylands' close publishing associates wouldn't allow for being Mr. Temperance like Quinn. Hylands and Harding were also good composer friends in 1898 to 1901, as we know of Harding's venture into being a composer was a much talked of subject among the "Columbia Clan" and the other record company staffs around in that period. Such as this pretty piece of music:

Hylands also published this in 1899, but I cannot seem to find his publication of it. This is from a little bit later. Harding was a prominent member under Hylands' rule of the publishing firm, so it's no surprise to hear him sing not very well with Spencer on a Columbia from around the time that the firm began. He was also the one who opened that phonograph parlor in 1897 to later have gatherings there with all the Columbia stars, so Harding was another one of those studio drinkers. Of course, he couldn't drink as much as Spencer and Hylands because he was so much smaller than they were.
A recording I would love to use in proving this point on Spencer's part is his 1899 recording of "Warmest Baby in the Bunch", but I can't do that. I will say, however, that that cylinder is a fantastic example of Hylands and Spencer's great musical understanding, but also a great example of what they both sounded like when very tipsy, as that is the most extreme of the exampled I have heard as far as Spencer and Hylands go. Hylands gets all weird and pushy with the rhythm, but the problem is that Spencer isn't much better in that aspect. It's kind of a mess, but it sounds fine if you're not really nitpicking everything on the record. It's becomes more interesting when you're doing that though. The record is a mess, but it has a lot of strange aspects to the piano playing that Hylands didn't usually play, whether drunk or sober. Since this was all true in Columbia's late-1890's studio, it makes listening much more interesting for those who have ears that can hear those mistakes and off-key singing. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies--Burt Shepard(c.1853-1913)

Burt. Shepard, c.1887-91

It's been a while since I've entered the mysterious realm of Burt Shepard, and since I have had a fascination with him and his records lately, it would seem to be time to finally do a character studies post on him. Not much is known on him, now and even back when he was performing and making records, and this is actually his fault, since he didn't want to talk much when people interviewed him back in the 1900's and 1910's. If he had spoken just a little more a whole lot of the mess of mystery would be nonexistent. He has the same sort of reputation that Silas Leachman has had over the decades. Leachman didn't talk much when reporters asked him personal questions, and had gone almost completely forgotten over the ages and only had a batch of Victor records for few record collectors to know about him. This is exactly the same for Shepard, save for the fact that recently a treasure trove of information has been found on Leachman, and this is still yet to happen for Shepard. Whenever this happens, I want to witness it, and grab everything I can. 

His background and upbringing is completely lost to history, since he refused to speak of it, and no one could get anything appertaining to it anywhere. One thing is for sure, he came from somewhere deep in middle America, as his dialect matches up almost exactly with Byron Harlan's, George Graham's, and even Fred Hylands'. All three of those performers came from different places in the midwest, Kansas, West Virginia, and Indiana. The state specifically where Shepard came from may never be known, but it's not New York or anywhere in the eastern U. S. His exact birthdate is also unknown, as that he also refused to reveal, and the date often given for this is just a logical guess, since he first began performing in a minstrel troupe in c.1874(might be earlier...) that came from New Orleans, which may or may not be an indicator of where he came from. From there, but the late-1870's, he was performing in women's clothing, doing singing and minstrel acts and gaining a reputation as a prime female impersonator. In this, I believe there's a photo of him from the same page as the picture above that looks like him almost certainly:

Really do a comparison, and you'll see why I think it's him. (that would mean that there was a typo in the book that this came from...)

This picture just above might either be from the early-1890's, or it's a much earlier image of him from the mid-1870's. The hairstyle looks like the 1870's, as well as the strange choker-necklace thing was a popular style of the mid-1870's. Hmm, after doing some good studying, I think this picture is from around 1875, according to the neckline of the dress, the hairstyle, and the weird choker thing. Really go and study fashion plates from that time, you'll see exactly why I have concluded 1875 as the date here. 

Anyway, with this talent, he became a popular minstrel show "middle man" who would, by tradition, not be in blackface. He did perform in blackface as well, and often did parodies of popular songs, that he created. This tradition of song parodies lasted and was luckily able to be caught on recordings in 1901 and 1902, which included his parodies of "Home Sweet Home", "The Swanee River" and even "The Honeysuckle and the Bee" which were all fantastic examples of vaudeville. By the late-1890's he was performing all over the world, performing in England, Paris, Australia, and even South Africa as well. By 1901, he was in the U.S. once more, performing his popular song parodies, doing general vaudeville, and of course, making records! Much of how people know him comes from these hundred or so Victor records from 1901 to 1906, which included many popular British songs that American artists had not yet recorded. Many songs he recorded were also ones that he made up his own lyrics that were parodies all themselves without being labelled as such. 
He went back for the crowds of London by 1912, and remained there until he died the next year. In the final time he was in England, he made a few recordings for Victor that was set up ten years before by Russell Hunting. After that, his name and reputation slowly faded off, with only those Victors to truly remember him and hear why he was so highly praised. His personality came through on his recordings, as the few surviving accounts describing him match much of the character that leaks into many of his famous Victor recordings. He was a similar figure to Fred Hylands in appearance, save for being well over six feet tall, Shepard was not Hylands height, but the weight and overall proportions appear to be the same. He was known by the studio pianists of the early days to have been a jolly and kind man, though sometimes complicated and indirect. His likable personality earned him many friends in the business, and didn't keep new people from him. 

It's unfortunate that almost none of the basic information on him is lost to history, as it we knew more about him, he's probably more complicated than we could ever have fathomed. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 

Absence of Hylands and Amazing new Discoveries

Fred Hylands is an unfortunately forgotten studio genius. 

I learned from my friend Vincent Johnson that Hylands is absent from the Tantalizing Tingles  book about acoustic era piano solos and some studio pianists. This was very frustrating to me, and to many of my friends who know of Hylands' playing very well. As Ryan Wishner told me, this book was written and published after the destruction of the Columbia ledgers, so it is not surprising that Hylands was missed in that sense, but it's problematic that not a single note of information mentions that Hylands was a studio pianist anywhere. All the other studio pianists are mentioned, even George Schweinfest, of all the studio pianists. How Hylands would have been horribly cross with that. He would absolutely hate that he is completely forgotten by those many collectors who unknowingly have hundreds of his records, in piles of Columbia's and some Zon-O-Phone's.
 This book seems to be helpful in only an interest of later collectors, not those who are anxiously awaiting the ledgers that list the pianist. It is very frustrating to me, and from all that I have heard as of now, I am not wanting the book as much as I thought when I was first told of it last weekend. 



Now, this evening, I have been digging around on Tim Brooks' fantastic website for the first time, and have found and treasure trove of information, from info on Tom Clark to a picture of John Yorke Atlee! 
Here's Atlee to begin:

Sorry it's not very big, or great in quality either. Regardless, it's still the most popular whistler of the 1890's recording business. Now I knew right away that this was Atlee, even if I hadn't seen a clear picture of him, why? Well, because Fred Gaisberg described Atlee as being a man who had long flowing whiskers. And what'd'ya know, there are those whiskers! The description fit the face immediately. Thanks Gaisberg! Will certainly get to drawing him so you can all get a better picture of him later to-night, he's got some of the most magnificent whiskers since Chester Arthur! 

To move on the the next item of information I picked up was a little bio on Tom Clark. It's about time... Anyway, this is what it says on Clark:

Wow! He lived a long time! Why didn't Walsh try to find him? Sad...

Anyway, there was no way I would have guessed that Clark was English, and it's somewhat surprising really, and really interesting. That would mean that Clark could be categorized with J. W. Myers in the foreign section of the earliest recording stars, which is great! 

Now since I'm the Hylands freak, some of you might be wondering if Hylands was listed in this directory of 1890's Columbia artists where I found all of this new information. Guess what, he was! It's a miracle! However! This is all that was written on him:

Oh, yes, of course, the absence of mentioning him in frequent catalogs, that's why there's close to nothing here. As we know, there would be a lot more information there if this directory was written now(this was compiled not long after the Columbia ledgers were destroyed). Not even a guess of birth and death dates are given! All of the most popular Columbia stars have those listed. Seriously, Tom Clark has his dates given, and those must have been painstakingly hard to find, more so than Hylands'. We're going on scraps of information for anything about Hylands... 
There are sections on Issler, Schweinfest, and Gaisberg, and the only one that states the studio pianist term is under Gaisberg's section. Though, keeping with the sometimes boring tradition of only staying with fully written evidence, it is only stated that Gaisberg was "known to have begun his career as a piano accompanist for Columbia in Washington in the early 1890's". There's nothing about how he was worked till he dropped with Atlee, working as an occasional pianist at Columbia after beginning at Berliner in 1892(they state 1893 in the directory, though that wouldn't exactly work chronologically). The record I had in my last post by Gaisberg proves that the 1893 date for him beginning at Berliner cannot be right, as the solo he made of "The Honeymoon March" was recorded in 1892, not 1893. 

There are many recording artists listed in this directory that would not be elsewhere listed, such as Hylands, David C. Bangs, Tom Clark, George Graham, and many more obscurities that we now have the privilege of hearing word of from The Phonoscope. You can see this full directory in this link here:
http://www.timbrooks.net/PDFs/colhist79.pdf
There's so much more to learn from this! Much more than I have listed here. 
In fact, this short directory might have been where most older collectors have heard of Fred Hylands. Though, of course, the article used the incorrect "Frederic" spelling that was used in The Phonoscope , though as we know, no one bothered to try to go out and search around for information on him back in 1978 and 79. 
All that known about this mysterious so-called "pianist" was what was said in the July, 1898 issue of The Phonoscope: 

That was all that was known for decades folks. No delving of into the mystery that surrounded him happened until now. Of course, if someone bothered to learn more about Hylands earlier, they certainly would have been surprised to know that he was in a publishing firm with Steve Porter, Roger Harding, and later Len Spencer, and that he was later bitter about working for Columbia, after working eight years for them. 

Anyhow, to close off, here's a great record I just got to hear a few days ago by Denny and Hylands:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KlJXbgGoMa8
It's Hylands showing off all of his folk-Ragtime tricks, and his anxious style behind Will F. Denny, who can barely be heard. Hylands is louder than Denny, period. 

H ope you enjoyed this! 

More about the mysterious George Graham

(Graham in c. 1896) 

Mr. Graham is someone that I have a special interest in for many reasons, not just because his records were blatantly funny, but by how he simply vanished from all recording and performing in 1904. Since Graham wasn't one of Jim Walsh's many characters of interest, he is still very unknown to-day, even to the most curious and knowledgeable record collectors. It's the most odd thing, he was recording in bunches from 1896 to 1903, and was rather popular in the late-1890's on Berliners, but was forgotten completely by 1904. No one knows what happened to him after he ended recording, it had been assumed by some that he died in 1903, either suddenly in '03 that forced him to end recording, or he died in the next year, and just refused to come in later in 1903. 

It's hard to know, as there is almost nothing known on him, and it's near impossible to find anything more than we already have on him. The item on interest that also comes to question when thinking of Graham is, was that his real name? What could his name really be if it was changed? There isn't really any indication of that happening ever, but one can wonder such a thing. It's odd, he was certainly a very handsome man, paired with a terrible drinking habit that made him sound somewhat gruff to the listeners of his records. His deadpan humor was genius, whether he knew it or not, which is why he was so entertaining to listen to. He must not have been the most expressive of the earliest recording stars, with a similar face whenever he spoke to the horns. That face must have been blank, with furrowed brows, and not much more. He would really only smile if someone behind the horns did something weird, or funny to him. When the boys had to get out the stand for him, they knew that the session was going to be a real adventure for them, by just trying their hardest to get him to stand straight. There must have been some takes where he spilled his drink, coughed, or dropped the papers from his hands.

One of the interesting things about Graham is that his voice was absolutely perfect for being a record announcer, but he didn't do that for some reason. His voice was blank, gruff, and got points across easy, those were the ruling traits of a great record announcer. That was also the best way to describe Edward Meeker's many thousands of announcements on Edison cylinders from 1902-1909. Graham's voice sounded like that of a terrible, and rough drinker. It is evident on not too many of his records, but on this one here from 1903, you can really hear not only his queer miscellaneous dialect, but also his throaty and slightly scratchy voice. It makes him sound older than he probably was, and more comical somehow. His age is unknown, and it's hard to tell, as some guesses have been made, but they are only guesses. They range from 1861 to 1875, and for all we know, he could have been as old as Edward M. Favor(born 1856). That's not exactly as likely as a date like 1865, as that would allow for some time for Graham to be a traveling medicine salesman in the 1880's, which in some ways would make sense. He was found in 1895 by Fred Gaisberg, at about age 30, that would sound about right. If Graham had died in 1903 or 04, that would have made him between age 45 and 49, which also sounds somewhat reasonable, by how terrible of a drinker he was. But then again, these are only logical guesses. Graham could have lived to the 1910's, but it's hard to know. Either way, the mystery that surrounds his character and his records is what really keeps record collectors so intrigued by him. 

He is very fun to listen to an analyze anyhow, and any one of his records are valuable, as they are hard to come by, and he didn't really make very many. 

*If anyone knows anything more about George Graham, please comment on this post!*

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies--George Graham(c.1862-?)

Ahh yes, George Graham, the fascinating unknown character of the 1890's recording studio. He was a very mysterious character, who no one in the studios knew about, and never dared to ask about. They found him too funny, therefore, didn't bother to get any information out of him. He made records in bunches from 1896 to 1903, and when I say that I mean that he came not too often to the studios, but when he did, he always had half a dozen or so of new monologues. He was always a real riot in the studio, sometimes making the engineers laugh so often that they had to re-do the take. Graham's origins are completely unknown, except for the fact that he worked in medicine troupes in the early 1890's. That is really what is known about him prior to his recording career, and the specifics of these troupes are not even known.  I am certain that he came from the Mid-west, which state, I have no idea. It might be Indiana, but then it might be something like Wisconsin. That is unknown, but by studying his dialect and pronunciations of certain words and syllables, he is certainly from a similar area to Fred Hylands. Why Hylands? Well, the few times that I have heard Hylands speak, he had the same sort of dialect, with dropping of the same letters and tones. Graham also sounded a little like Byron Harlan, who hailed from rural Kansas. Hylands also had the same sort of raspy flair that Graham was so famous for on his records. You can hear Hylands at the end of this brown wax cylinder here. Hear it? Yep, I certainly do, even if Hylands was probably a little tipsy by then, you can still pinpoint it easily. 

Graham was the most entertaining monologist that the earliest record companies had on their staff. He would come in to Berliner stumbling many times, but other times he would end up that way. The studio engineers would have to set up the small stand they made for him, which would also be a big production, as getting him to stay put was sometimes more difficult than it would seem. He would drink like mad, having a full bottle of something when he came in, and it would be all gone by the end of his day in the studio. Sometimes, well most of the time that is, the engineers and other Berliner staff members would seriously worry about him getting home after the days in the studio. Who knows what could have happened to him after he left that studio door. He must have showed up on those few days where he was completely sober, broken up by a "slash" or fight from the night before. The few times that he wouldn't drink were days where he was recovering from a terrible hangover. Those days were fascinating to behold, as he was a very quick-minded and bright man, a side of him that was unexpected in so many ways. He was one who really changed his means after he drank, but some think he had a darker side to him. Maybe he was a wife-beater? He certainly was vocal about his conservative expectations about women on his records, and this can possibly indicate something as cruel and barbaric as the latter notion. Something was harsh about him, deep in his personal life, something wasn't right. His raspy and rough voice certainly was that of a man with a conscious demeanor that was amiable and fun, but his unconscious means must have been something very different. He was a genuinely funny man, with great puns that sometimes seemed to the level of crudeness of Russell Hunting. He learned the minstrel business from Len Spencer not long after he started working at Columbia in the late-1890's, which changed his direction a little bit, as he was just wanting to be a straight comedic monologist, but the minstrel twang and character suited him well somehow. He loved the dialect, even if he wasn't the best at vocally illustrating the caricature itself. The odd thing is that the Columbia staff kept away his drinks, and kept them in very modest amounts, so on all the few Columbia's he made, he was his bright and clear self. The Berliner and Victor people let him have it. They found it just amusing, and didn't mind how much of a pain it was to control him, and how many takes they would have to do in order to get a decent one. Big boss Len Spencer didn't want Graham at his drinks to the fullest, which is odd considering the conditions under which Fred Hylands wasn't monitored, by Spencer, and anyone for that matter. Graham then transferred over to the Victor company(like most late-Berliner artists did) in 1900, and was a regular around there, able to drink freely at the delight of the engineers and other staff members present. He made fifty or so fantastic and hilarious Victor records and then vanished. Not a soul knew what happened to him. He was never to be seen on records again, and somehow it seemed like he didn't exist after 1903. At least when many of his colleagues of the late-1890's disappeared, it is known where they went or if they died. With Graham, no one knows. He might have died, or maybe he lived a few more years? It is a great mystery that perhaps may never be known. He vanished from the recording scene like many of the recording fiends of the 1890's did, but where he went is unknown. 

Anyhow, to close off here is one of the three or so issued Columbia's he made under the obliging of Len Spencer from 1903:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder4703
And NO! Len spencer is NOT  the speaker here, I am 100% sure that the voice heard here is that of George Graham. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Character Studies-- J. W. Myers(c.1862-1917)

"Damn!" is what Fred Hylands would yell amid his broken breath after a take with J. W. Myers.

That's a good way to sum up how Myers worked in the studios. He wanted specifics, power, and finger-tangling accompaniment always. The attention was always intended on J. W. Myers, by J. W. Myers, not really on the pianist, even though he allowed for some freedom in the accompaniment, which whether he liked it or not, screams attention to the accompaniment. Myers is also a mysterious character in the early recording business, as he wasn't born in the United States, and he never really spoke of his personal life, nor his background. He came from Wales, around the year of 1874 is the time he moved here, and once he was here, got some typical laboring jobs here and there; similar to mining, and working as a tailor. It is not known how he got interested in music, but it was probably while he was working in the early 1880's that he began to take an interest in music. He became a recording star by 1891, making records very often, while also performing in theatrical troupes and singing at regular "gigs" around the east coast. He also wanted to try to start his own record company in late-1896, one of these few records he sold can actually be heard here. Myers' "Globe Phonograph Company" was a very small success for him, as it only lasted from late-1896 to the middle of 1897. That bust didn't keep him from recording like a fiend, which by 1898, he was surely doing. 

Myers was a real sight in the studio, with his appearingly anxious expressions when he sang, they were not to be expected upon seeing him only on a cover of sheet music. He would flip around his black hair when he sang something vigorous, much like the poor Freddy Hylands behind him inevitably at Columbia's rooms. Myers always came in with a pile of music, ready to throw around at Freddy and scrutinize every note played beforehand. He was always ready for each take that came along, and always wanted to own the room when he walked in, which in many cases, this was actually true.  His voice bounced off the long tall walls of Columbia, but didn't have such the power and length of Len Spencer's, or even Fred Hylands for that matter! His voice was not one that was deep, in the sense that is was like a chasm in his throat, his tones never had that ability. This made for a pleasing sense to his voice, not like the harshness of Len Spencer's freakish voice. He always fixed his whiskers after each take, as his hair would get out of place after anything he did, no matter if it be"Will O the Wisp" or "Violets" he sang. He wasn't too much of a drinker, at least he barely ever did so in the studio, it was a very special week if he brought in any kind of alcohol. But for all we know, he could have been just as terrible a drunk as George Graham outside the studio. He wasn't one to speak of his personal life, or past, somehow, he was just anxious to get his music work done, and do whatever he did outside Columbia's rooms. He was one of the few on Columbia's staff who treated Hylands' Rag-Time abilities as a novelty or a a freakish curiosity, he always did, even when is became more "updated" by 1902, as that was when styles were starting to change. That was also a year that Captain Myers began to sink, with his career dropping in popularity and significance year by year. He still enjoyed doing the recording work, and this was probably why he stayed in the business for a few more years, even if he must have known that it would end very soon. After 1907, he vanished, probably staying in the states for a few more years, but after that, he was probably back to Wales, where remained to his death, forgotten.

Not many who were interviewed later recalled Myers too much, but Dan Quinn remembered him a little in his letters here and there. Other than that, there really isn't any information on Myers out there. He is, in many ways, just as mysterious as George P. Watson. It's unfortunate really, as he was one of the most popular early recording stars, and certainly recorded some of the biggest hits of the time, some that other's skipped, or just left to Myers.

Here are two records that I referred to in the section above describing Myers:
http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder13285

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder6821
Hylands playing beautifully, what a concept! He had it in him. 

I hope to be doing more of these "Character Studies" within the next few days, and I hope you're all liking them so far! 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

No Rules and Regulations

This is an image of the Columbia phonograph company's main recording room, from 1898, with Fred Hylands at the piano in the top right corner.

Back when this photo was taken, there were very few, if not any rules in the recording studios. This meant several things, other than having the freedom to balance the instruments and voices as needed, they were able to drink and do a much drugs as they wanted. The 1890's recording business was a free-for-all, both in its politics and making of records themselves. This is why I mention so many times on this blog the fact that sometimes the artists singing or accompanying could be either drugged or drunk. I don't really speak of the "drugged" end of this notion, as who knows what they could have sniffed or smoked beforehand. That is really open for whatever kind of drugs were readily available at that time. Since most means of common medicine in the 1890's were full of addictive drugs that we are very aware of to-day, who knows how it got to them. We are only left to guess what they could have done before they got their heads into the horns.

From this man's whole story:

George's Graham's that is, it was something that the recording engineers just didn't want to deal with the drunkards that they knew were an epidemic in their studios. George Graham was undoubtedly one of the more interesting of the 1890's recording stars, as he was obscure throughout his career as a patent medicine man and a recording artist. Wherever the man came from, he certainly had a whole lot to say, even if he didn't say it very clearly more than half the time. He is the perfect example of what the studio workers thought of their drunkard artists. I have been told many things about this controversial subject, and the reactions I have gotten from other collectors about this have always been ones of surprise and disbelief. This is because the subject was not very well documented, if at all, in the actual time period, and the artists who survived their fellows spoke not of it. Fred Gaisberg was the one who described George Graham in the best of detail, as he was the one who went and found him in 1895. He spoke of Graham getting too drunk to stand straight, and them not really caring too much for him, thinking it was genuinely entertaining to watch him. It was like that until they had to all get a hold of him and drag him out. 

This sort of thing must have been a regular thing at Columbia. Why? Well, think of who was on their staff there: Len Spencer, Fred Hylands(especially!), Russell Hunting, George Graham, George P. Watson, George J. Gaskin, and several more that we know of. These were really the ones I have come to think would be more likely to have been dragged out by the engineers than others, someone like Dan W. Quinn or Vess Ossman probably not. The two I really am pointing at on this subject(other than George Graham of course!) are Len Spencer and Fred Hylands. These two just looked like drinkers, and they both had health problems that are directly related to drinking themselves sick. There is, however, more proof of this in Hylands' death certificate from 1913, Spencer's was a little more direct, in saying what was the main thing that killed him. With Hylands, it was a mix of a handful of things that slaughtered him. These things included: a variety of symptoms of diabetes, Liver complaint, a weakened immune system, and a few more things we may never know the specifics for. There was no hope for Len Spencer, he was the most stressed and overworked of all the early recording vocalists, so it was just coming his way when he died in 1914. He sure "Got all that was a Comin' To him" if ya know what I mean!(that's a reference to a song he recorded in 1899.)

In saying that Hylands and Spencer were probably the problem drunkards for Columbia, they probably got dragged out at the end of some long days of recording. They were productive however, and that was all that mattered to the management. I'm sure that Vic Emerson(the manager at Columbia when Hylands got hired there...) probably found it very entertaining, and needed to work dear Hylands till he dropped to get full satisfaction from the takes. I do think I have mentioned before that this was Mr. Emerson's logic with the artists he had at Columbia, and it's always an important thing to note when thinking of how much the artists worked. The fact that it was mostly the fault of Emerson that is. This is why some collectors speak of Emerson very negatively when his name is ever mentioned. 

I have heard from one collector that I spoke with a little while back, that some of the engineers and studio workers said they couldn't tell the difference between the drunk artists and the sober ones, and that sounds like a bunch of mush! That can't be true, they must have known. They must not have wanted to admit the truth because they would have to get into specifics with who did it and who didn't. 

Hylands had the worst job of them all, working the piano accompaniments. As we will probably be able to guess why, this job was absolutely brutal, and not for a stringy sickly chap(like Frank P. Banta). It was a job that involved every one of the featured artists there, egos battling with each other, terrible studio conditions, not getting fed regularly, and a need for time to rest, but was restricted forcefully by the greedy and anxious artists that approached the piano. So with all of this stress and anxiety, one would certainly think that the piano man would certainly have a flask on hand, and maybe a bottle of snuff(cocaine, opium, etc.) buried somewhere in their jacket pocket. The bottle of any kind of alcohol was allowed, and if seen by Mr. Emerson or anyone else in management, it would go unnoticed. The bottle of snuff however, that would vary, depending upon whether it was one of those addictive elixirs sold in the time, or just a powder of some kind. That was usually hidden, but its affects can be heard sometimes in the piano accompaniment. Preserved for decades. 

Here are a few examples of this sort of accompaniment(by Fred Hylands):

https://ia801401.us.archive.org/3/items/DanWQuinn/DanWQuinn-GloriousBeer_64kb.mp3

https://ia902307.us.archive.org/20/items/GeorgeWJohnson/GeorgeWJohnson-TheLaughingCoon.mp3

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5CpTY2haDI (it's played too fast though...)

It's such an odd thing to think, but it did happen, and the poor musicians were the worst cases of these, because the singers worked them more than they needed to. The singers though, also were caught by this bug, and proves the free-for-all means of the 1890's recording business. 

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Micellaneous recent obsevations

Since I have been noticing little things from several different records since last evening, I cannot really stay on a single subject this evening. I have been getting back into the drunken utterings of George Graham, and the melodic beauty of the early recorded quartets on cylinders. So the first thing I would like to start with is this guy:

Ah yes, George Graham, the roughest monologist recorded in the first decade of the business.I still don't know what it is about his voice and annunciations of certain words that capivate me. I love his records, even if his voice is rough, unbalanced, and jarring. 

The people who came to the exibitions at Columbia must have been puzzled when they saw and heard him in the flesh. How they must have been staring up at him with the most odd looks on their faces. He really had unusual ways of pronouncing certain words, that I have heard from other collegues of his say. Such as these examples:

he often says "fahk" instead of fork. 

he said "ay-re" instead of "are" it's a hard one to replicate in writing...

he often said "fer" instead of "for".

he said "cah" instead of car. 

you can hear a few of these in this great example of his speech:

http://adp.library.ucsb.edu/index.php/matrix/detail/2000001513/Pre-matrix_B-2164-Forty-seven_dollars

Such a weird dialect. I think it might be Indiana mixed with a generic northeastern dialect. It's hard to tell. If anyone has any ideas, please tell me!

This next thing has to do with Frank P. Banta, and the other Bantas. 

Yep, that's Banta. 

Well, we all know he was the pianist for Edison and Victor before 1903, and that he was a soulful man usually in seemingly high spirits. From what I have found now, the Bantas lived very confortably in a very nice part of Manhattan in the late 1890's and early 1900's. Which surprised me greatly. As the studio musicians had the hardest job of anyone who worked at the studios, even more tiring than the managers or higher management above them. Yes, Edward Easton(Columbia's main founder) did try to commit suicide in 1908 from his depressed and overworked he was, but he would never know what it was like for his own Fred Hylands ten years before that incident. I'm sure Hylands almost went that far at least once. It really was the hardest job ever, and anyone who can work at it for ten years is a true saint. That's what Banta did. Hylands was only in the recording business for about eight years, maybe more, but that would be about right. 

I'm really surprised that it wasn't the recording at Columbia that directly killed Hylands. It contributed, but it wasn't direct. He seemed like he loved all the boys there, which he did, but deep inside him, he hated working there and just wanted to hang himself and leave for good. Same thing for Banta, save for his much better impulsive control, so he didn't utter his complaints and make it somewhat clear that he didn't want to be there. Banta probably didn't say a single word truthful about his thoughts about working at Edison and Victor. He was much more polite and mannered(if you will) than Hylands. He actually had the means to object about working at Columbia:

OOH! Big mistake Freddy! 

They probably thought of it as funny, even if he wasn't trying to joke around. Banta had his manners though, as he was contented with his family life enough to not complain. Hylands just had a small flat with his father and wife to come home to after the long recording days, Banta had a wonderful home with two children(as of 1901) and a very caring and loving wife, with two housemaids to tend to him. Hylands hadn't much to look forward to after his long and exhausting days. Banta could have genuine eagerness to get home after a long recording day. Hylands would have a small bite to eat, take some snuff, and go on to bed dugged and drunk. Banta would have a wonderful meal with his family, have a few drinks and go on to bed to rest well for the next recording day. 

Last thing for this post, I had an interesting dream last nght about this singer:

Yes indeed, Dan W. Quinn. 

He was very kind and comical toward me in my dream, as I'm sure he was normally when speaking to anyone. I had a few great laughs with him, and he set some brown wax cylinders on the table I sat at with him, and somehow Frank Banta. 

Anyhow, to close off, here are some early Quinn brown waxes so compliment the vision from my dream:

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/mp3s/7000/7115/cusb-cyl7115d.mp3

http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/mp3s/10000/10474/cusb-cyl10474d.mp3

https://ia801401.us.archive.org/3/items/DanWQuinn/DanWQuinn-OhMrsOflahertyWhatDidYouMeanBeThat_64kb.mp3

I love these Quinn records so much. Thanks for performing "Still His Whiskers Grew" with me at Chip's house Ryan(Wishner) I really enjoyed it! 

I hope you enjoyed this!