Showing posts with label Walter H. Miller. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Walter H. Miller. Show all posts

Thursday, January 12, 2017

Character Studies--Fred Hager(1874-1958)

Now that we know Hager was one of those famed Rag-Time pianists on early recordings, it seems inevitable for more posts to be centered around him and Zon-O-Phone in general. Despite a yearning to learn more about him, there's not too much on him out there, everything there is about him is from later on in his career as a bandleader and arranger, from about 1907 to the 1920's, bit after that there's a huge gap of time before then and after that. Soon, we hope to dig up all of this information on him, much like we did on Edward Issler. We hope that these gaps will be filled at least somewhat, so a trajectory will be known to some extent.

Now for Hager's background and upbringing. This at least gets us an idea of how highly regarded he was from such a young age. He was born in Susquehanna County Pennsylvania in 1874, and from a very young age joined local regiment bands, as this state was known for such a thing at this time.  In 1895, Hager was given a full scholarship to attend the New York Music school that had just been set up by the famous Czech composer Antonin Dvorak. He was sent here to study the violin, likely in his case under Dvorak himself, which is very strange yet amazing all at once! Once at the music school,he gained a reputation as a violin virtuoso, and a blossoming musician all around, playing brass and piano as well. By 1897, he had formed his own band, and this was given many awards as one of the top bands of all New York State, which is no small thing. He was soon invited to make records for the relatively small firm of Harms, Kaiser, and Hagen(as stated in The Phonoscope), and the next year, 1898, he was making violin records for Edison. Oddly enough, this caused some competition for Charles D'Almaine, who was then working for Edison and Columbia. It was around this time that Hager became a pianist for Edison, adding to their already three pianists on staff. Of course, just like with D'Almaine, Frank Banta must have unexpectedly entered competition when he  came along, not aware at first of Hager's curiosity in playing Rag-Time. But Banta and Benzler underestimated Hager's curiosity and rather surprising skill when it came to actually playing the style. He didn't surpass Banta in this, but he came pretty close to doing so, in a rather short period of time, since by 1898, Hager was also playing Rag-Time accompaniments for Edison, to compete with that horrid mess of a pianist at Columbia. Edison had two Rag pianists to essentially equal one Hylands. 
the equation was simple:
two Rag pianists:
Banta and Hager= equals one Hylands. Good.
That's Walter Miller's(Edison's Victor Emerson) logic for Rag-Time at Edison.

Anyway, Hager worked at Edison into 1899 and 1900, but it was around the latter that he became associated with the scandalous new company Zon-O-Phone. With this new company, he essentially was working with a clean slate, since this company had no history or baggage with any other company(save for Victor after 1900), and the orchestra was his to piece together. That's exactly what he did, and by 1901, he had created Zon-O-Phone's famed house orchestra, with some of his own musicians, and occasionally plucked out musicians from other studio orchestras. The end result was the best house orchestra of the era, and his arrangements made them ever better. Of course, since he was the orchestra leader, it seemed inevitable for him to become Zon-O-Phone's main studio pianist. He took his time at Edison as a trial for his piano skills to develop, and once he had Zon-O-phone's studio, he allowed this to be his time to really improve his piano playing, particularly his Rag-Time. His style of Rag-Time was very unusual, and it sounded like a cross between Hylands and Frank Banta, and all the other Edison pianists of the late-1890's. Luckily, that's why it wasn't too hard to put Hager's name on that style in the first place. His style was still very odd, combining the straight-laced and classically trained background with a very syncopated and rhythmically superior nature. Oddly enough, he played fifths in his left hand, and combined this with whacky yet syncopated right hand. Oftentimes his right hand was out of whack, but the rhythm in the left hand was always on point. It sounded like Hager had been to performances with Hylands accompaniment, or someone like that, such as Ben Harney, or Max Hoffmann. Wherever his inspiration came from, the style he created was unique and very interesting, obviously taking from Hylands. By 1902, he was eclipsed by his own competitor in Rag-Time, Fred Hylands, because once Hylands became horribly fed up with Columbia in 1902, he entered into Zon-O-Phone's studio and was welcomed by the management. Luckily, this relatively short period became the prime of Hager's orchestra, since he wasn't always going to be the pianist when Hylands was there. Between 1902 and 1904, the best of Hager's orchestra was recorded, you can notice a spike in Hager's Orchestra performances on Zono in this time period, and the overall sound was just as great as it had always been, if not a little better in this period. By the end of the piano accompaniment era(1905) Zon-O-Phone still held on to their piano accompaniment until the end of that year, much like Columbia did, for what seems the same reason. Hager wasn't dropped like Hylands however, he was given leadership of pretty much all the Zon-O-phone sessions, still keeping his orchestra there as the accompaniment, and for occasional band recordings. They were still a superior orchestra, with the superior sound quality that was a signature for the label. By the end of Zon-O-phone as we know it, Hager was thrown out, just like everyone else who worked there. But he feared not, his orchestra became what Issler's did, an old-style orchestra who got a surprising amount of work after recording. Hager was still young by 1912, so his orchestra didn't become archaic until the 1920's. Hager wasn't able to transition to Jazz, just like Issler, but by the late-1920's, Hager had joined the radio business. In the 1930 census, Hager is listed as "program manager-broadcasting", which proves this statement. He was doing just what he did for Zon-O-Phone, just for the radio studios. It seems that by 1940, he had left this line, and retired as a music writer, and general musician. Performances by his orchestra date as far along as 1952! That's dedication. Hager's orchestra must have sounded real old-time by the 1930's, and to think that he was performing twenty years after that! He died in 1958 at the age of 84.

Hager made sure that his family didn't seem unusual for the time period, and this can be well observed in census records. In November 1897, he married Clara Decker, and soon had two little girls, none of whom entered in the music business unfortunately. Not much of his personality is easy to put together, but it's certain that he was an agreeable musician, since he was able to work for many record companies, and not create any baggage with any of them. Record companies probably fought quietly over him, and it was likely that Columbia became envious of the perfect pianist and orchestra leader Zon-O-Phone had, since none of their own staff was as extraordinary all around as Hager. Another thing that kept Hager always well liked was that he was the best-looking of the studio pianists, not seeming to fit the pianist stereotype that Banta and Issler personified to the highest degree. Hager was tall, thin, had dark blond hair, long stick-like legs, well-sloped slightly feminine shoulders, and a gloriously classical profile, with a perfectly shaped forehead to fit this. His good looks and agreeable nature were hard to refuse to the record managers, and he earned respect and admirers from this. 

Hager was a whole lot better-looking that most of these early recording stars. 
Just saying. 

Now for some records with Hager on piano! 

Here are a few examples with Hager's interesting and distinct style:
what a wild record!




Well, there you go! Finally information on Hager! Thanks go out to Charlie Judkins for helping in finding all of this, some of the information also came from articles by Tim Gracyk and conversation with Craig Ventresco. 

Hope you enjoyed this! 



Sunday, September 11, 2016

Russell Hunting and Charles Carson--Columbia's criminals

It's clear that I find Russell Hunting the most interesting of all of these early recording stars, with all of the controversial ideas and messes he made. 
All of Hunting's genius and off-colour ideas and doings come from his days as a Shakespearian actor in the 1880's. He was one who loved going onstage in multi-coloured tights and long blond wigs to replicate the Venetian Renaissance; this sort of thing was what he did often as a performer. This was so not just in the 1880's, it seems that someone like Fred Gaisberg found Hunting's willingness to perform as the devil character in a show not the most respectable thing. It's ironic to think of that, but Hunting was personifying the very character that he was seen as to the recording managers. 

The few early recording stars who clung to the Christian movement despised Hunting's mindset and would have tried their best to remain far away from him. Someone like Dan Quinn or J. J Fisher would have kept their distance from him. Doing that must have been somewhat hard to do since they saw Hunting rather often at the studio, before and after the whole Comstock scandal. 

Charles Carson was a member of the original"Columbia clan" that was formed by Hunting in 1892, and he was a small figure when it began. Carson began as an electrician at Columbia's still relatively small headquarters around 1892, but soon was integrated into the exclusive circles of Russell Hunting. He knew not what he was in for when Hunting only was inventing new ways of making copies of cylinders, and only recording comical "Casey" sketches. Not long after then, the idea of recording smut stories struck Hunting's mind, as the saloonkeepers needed new ways of getting people to attend the saloon, and not just for drinking. To satisfy this need, Hunting provided the solution of slot machines, with his naughty recordings dwelling just under the curved glass. It was a brilliant idea, and it got him more business than all of the rest of the "clan" would have thought. His home at 45 Clinton place in Manhattan was a hotspot for saloonkeepers and general customers to call and get their crates full of Hunting's smut. It took a few years for the New York Society for the Suppression of the Vice to take notice of this selling of smut, and they began as early as 1894 trying to track down the sources of these recordings, which seems like it was harder than is should have been. the issue with trying to track down Hunting in this long investigation must have been the fact that he used several pseudonyms, probably to purposely cause the law trouble in finding him. 
One of these sections from The New York Telegram was where I found a really interesting article highlighting the arrests of Hunting and Carson. Carson was Hunting's chief clerk when selling the smut records to the public, and kept track of where everything went to, also kept the lawmen away. Of course, once the Comstock crew went out to Coney Island to raid the slot machines upon hearing that some of these recordings were out there, the records were destroyed, the the source of them was finally found. At this, one of Comstock's detectives went out to the address, 45 Clinton Place, and posed as a kind patron of these obscene recordings. After witnessing Hunting make two of these records, he was then arrested, along with Charles Carson, who was Hunting'g clerk and kept track of the records bought and sold. Of course, with that status, the Comstock team had to arrest him as well. According to the papers, their bail was set at 2,000 dollars, though they only went to prison for three months. The impact that Hunting made on the new recording business was so monumental that there was really no way to reverse it, even if Comstock's detectives went out and destroyed what they thought was all of these records. It really wasn't as we know. There were still bunches of them stored in collections of the studio stars, and the managers. 

That's what's the most mysterious and fascinating about this whole thing, the fact that the studio managers and performers had some of these records in their collections. We know that Edison's manager Walter Miller had a vast collection of records that have been extremely well-preserved over the years. Most of the remaining Hunting smut cylinders came from Miller's collection, which is the strangest thing in so many ways. Victor, Georgie(as the Columbia staff called him), and Clyde Emerson would more likely have kept a collection of these recordings, since Victor and George were known for have not been the most "good" of people, according to Dan Quinn's Christian beliefs that is(dig through The Phonoscope, you'll find what I mean here). I'm surprised that Victor's collection didn't remain as is, unlike Miller's, which remained intact and well-preserved for decades. I'm not sure what happened to Emerson's collection, but it was likely split up when all of Columbia's ledgers were destroyed, since no one really had any use for it in that time anyway...
It's great to wonder what sort of records the Emerson's had stashed away in their collections, or any of the studio stars for that matter. 

Imagine the kinds of records that the Spencer's kept. 

Just putting that out there, since the two of them probably kept the widest variety of recordings, and also films as well. They probably kept all of those supposedly lost films made by the Columbia staff in the mid to late 1890's. We still have yet to know if these films exist, as it would be amazing if they did. Looking to the story of the few Hunting smut cylinders that survive, there are plenty of things that aren't supposed to exist, but still do somehow. Anything's possible. 



Speaking of films and photographs, in my last post I mentioned that Spencer's Lyceum was advertised in hundreds of newspapers and theatrical magazines as a place to show films, and that this seems to reveal that his love and fascination for films and photography didn't go away. A while ago, I was speaking with my friend Ryan Wishner, and we seems to theorize that there's a possibility of Len Spencer taking this very photograph:
It's a stretch, but something about it makes it seem like a full Columbia effort, since only Harry Spencer's in the picture, and it can be well assumed that brother Len was at almost every one of these exhibitions. With that, he might have taken this picture, and that would give this an insurmountable value. It was published in The Phonoscope after all, and that is also another clue as to who might have taken this picture. Also, if Spencer took this picture, he decided to do so a night when Fred was there, keep that in mind. 

Before I close off, I must share some of the amazing new recordings that Ryan Wishner and I slowed down in order to get the correct pitch, and to hear the piano better. 

Here's a newly pitch corrected 1899 cylinder of "Turkey in the Straw" by Billy Golden:

Pretty much everything in the piano accompaniment can be heard clearly here. I was able to hear things I hadn't before, and was able to clearly catch Hylands' playing characteristics much better. By the way, for you music geeks out there, it was originally pitched too fast in A, and now it's at a just a tad flat A Flat, which it historically accurate, considering the age and tuning norms. When I need Hylands referencing, I will be reverting back to this record, this slower transfer in fact. 


This next one is the corrected early-1898 recording of "The Bob White Polka" by George Schweinfest:
(Hylands is on piano here by the way, and it seems not one of his good takes)
This one was played frustratingly fast on the Santa Barbara cylinder website, and now you can hear it slower and at the correct tempo and pitch(excuse the speed fluctuation...). Now that it can be heard better, you can really hear how awful the piano sounds. If you're looking for that stereotypical piano sound usually associated with Rag-Time pianists, this record gets the point across(and it's not even Rag-Time!). the room this was recorded in even distorts the sound a little bit, making it sounds even more like  19th-century piano. The thing is, I like that sound, even if it is out-of-tune and wirey, it's charming and actually historically accurate! This record proves that point. 


This final one is another great Golden and Hylands collaboration, with Len Spencer doing the announcement. This record had always to me, and some of the Rag-Time scholars, to be one of the most authentic examples of recorded folk Rag-Time from pre-1900. My friend John Reed-Torres even made the point that this was recorded a year before Joplin's "Maple Leaf Rag" was published, and it already sounds the way that is does. 
(Hylands threw in some fun diminished chords if you're listening closely! much like "Maple Leaf Rag")
Just throwing this out there, but there are some great and rarely heard blues riffs hidden in Hylands' playing on this record, and remember, this was recorded in 1898, and Hylands was IMPROVISING. 



Hope you enjoyed this! 








Friday, March 25, 2016

Character Studies--Edward Issler(1856-1942)

Issler, c.1894
that's also Issler(no arguments! I'm 100% sure this time!)

Edward Issler was a much more brilliant and versatile studio worker than history has allowed. He has only really been said to have been a pianist in the earliest days of recording, which he was, but he was more than that. Now, Issler's origins are still awaiting to be uncovered, but one thing is clear, that he was very well trained, and was a truly "Victorian trained" pianist. What I mean by this is that when you hear him playing anything on those cylinders, you are hearing truly Victorian music played by a pianist who was trained in the 1860's and 1870's. Issler was no member of the up-and-coming "punk" movement of its time, "Rag Time".  Issler was a special case of Victorian pianist however, most Victorian or "Romantic era" playing was actually very jagged in rhythm, and was not accompanied with a strictly "straight" rhythm that we well know of to-day. Just for a good example, listen to this cylinder here from 1897 of Johann Strauss's "Pizzicato Polka" as an example of this:
(they can't understand the announcement on this website, but Len Spencer says "Pizzicato Polka, played by Gilmore's Band...")
The Polka was all the rage, beginning in the 1840's, and throughout the rest of the 19th century. It had a very unsteady yet playful rhythm to it, and Strauss' polkas are among the finest there are. The "Pizzicato Polka" was written in 1867 by the way. 
Anyhow, back to Issler. Issler's was trained in the era of the polka and mazurka, when straight rhythm was considered a true gift, and a sort of rare genetic mutation. Issler had fantastic rhythm. He was far better than his comrade Fred Gaisberg, and was cherished by the record companies for this, among other things. In many ways, Issler had better rhythm than Fred Hylands, though Hylands was at a disadvantage because of his terrible drinking habit. Issler's days before recording are unknown, and it is hard to know how Edison's small staff in 1887-88 took an interest in him in the first place. All we know is that Walter Miller found Issler to be the most important and life-saving employee they found in the earliest years of Edison's company, as Miller was forced to play piano on test recordings they did before he found Issler. When he officially became a member of their staff, he was always needed there, as he was the only pianist they had employed at the time. It didn't take too long for Columbia to take an interest in him, and the Edison workers over at North American as well. In 1892 and 1893, he was working for Edison regularly, Columbia, and North American. 

Issler was a man of average height, with a full beard, hair always slicked back, pointy ears, and somewhat long hands. He was not freakish-looking chap, save for the very Germanic feature of the beard(he did much look like Bohemian composer Antonin Dvorak!). He didn't exactly speak with a German dialect, unlike a few of his parlor orchestra members. He always dressed modestly when coming to work in the studio, which served him well in the varying weather conditions. He would always be ready to make records, and when his gang of musicians came along with him, he was always keeping them in-line with sound balancing and what was going to be played for the day. He always fixed the piano so it sounded supreme on every recording he made with his orchestra. The amazing sound of the piano he made even dazzled the members of the band, Schweinfest, Tuson, and Dana alike. Issler was not one who was too extroverted, which helped when making records, but not when people asked him how he did it at exhibitions, his sound effects man Len Spencer did that for him. Issler formed his parlor orchestra around 1886-87, and they were just a small performance group who did house concerts and some performances around the Washington D.C. area. By 1893, Issler's orchestra was a very popular group to play on phonographs everywhere, as they were the elite of the studio groups in that time, and nothing really as great as them ever succeeded. Issler kept up with the company lawsuits of 1894 through 1896, and was probably a witness in some of the court hearings. The the height of his orchestra's fame, 1895 and 1896, they were making thousands of rounds a months for Columbia, New Jersey Phonograph Company,the U. S. Phonograph Company(no more North American by this time...), but for some reason, they weren't making records for Edison anymore. I never knew why Edison dropped Issler from their staff in 1895 or 1896, guess it was because of his disloyalty by working out at all the Columbia associated companies, we know who took his place from there(Frank P. Banta and Bachmann). Issler remained making records with his orchestra until early 1897 when some major changes at Columbia were made. He had still been the usual accompanist over at Columbia for the entire time that he worked there making records with his orchestra, and even a little bit after the group was dissolved. Issler faded away slowly as the year 1897 progressed forth, and his "axing" from the staff was even closer on the horizon when a new "hot-shot" Rag-Time pianist captivated Messrs. Easton and Emerson---Fred Hylands. It's almost completely unknown after 1900 what became of the studio genius Issler, though it's very possible that he started his own band sometime after his studio orchestra morphed into the Columbia Orchestra in 1897. The genius of Edison's early studio faded away and did not return to the business ever again, and vanishing from all who knew him. It's unfortunate really, as Issler was a very underrated star of the earliest recording business, who was overshadowed by  the pianists who worked alongside him and also the one who succeeded him at Columbia in 1897. 

Anyhow, to close off this post on Issler, I will have two examples of his orchestra, then I will have one record of each of his famed soloists:

*Just for some weird information, I just learned this evening that a "Yorke" is actually a kind of late-Victorian dance, much like the Mazurka or Schotticshe, and I don't know anything about the "Yorke", if anyone knows anything about it, please comment on this post!*

Ricard Wagner's "Evening Star" played by David B. Dana in 1895:
https://archive.org/details/EveningStarByDavidB.Dana1895(announcement by a young Len Spencer, and Issler is probably on piano here)

Schweinfest playing "The Jealous Blackbird" in mid-1897 with the other two musicians listed above, but with their master thrown out, instead Fred Hylands is on piano(I think, I did  post a while back on the mounds of debate that come with this cylinder...): http://cylinders.library.ucsb.edu/search.php?queryType=@attr+1=1020&num=1&start=1&query=cylinder8792
 (announcement by Harry Spencer)


I hope you enjoyed this! 




Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Character Studies---Frank P. Banta(1870-1903)



Frank P. Banta, the silent piano man of Edison's company. He was a very hard worker, who cared very greatly about the quality of the records he was on, and wanted to be known as Edison's pianist. 

He did indeed achieve this goal, as to-day, he is the most well-known accompanist on records of the acoustic era. When record collectors hear Rag-Time piano behind any singer on a Victor, Edison cylinder, or even sometimes Columbia records, they immediately turn to Banta. Without considering the full evidence or facts, they turn to Banta, as he was everywhere on Victor records and Edison cylinders. This is true, but he was never on Columbia records---ever, period. This is something that needs to be known by record collectors who think it's always Banta who played the Rag-Time, which is partially true. Banta did indeed play wonderful Rag-Time, and he was a better overall musician than Fred Hylands. 

Mr. Banta was a quiet and solemn worker. He never had the means to complain about the obviously terrible working conditions he endured at Edison. The Conditions in which Fred Hylands worked were much better than the ones that Banta worked. Somehow, having Columbia stationed in an office building made working conditions better. Banta had to endure the rough and unsanitary world of working under old man Edison and Walter Miller. He came in every morning at about 8, with a case full of music, and dressed very modestly. He never wore the finest clothes, but he certainly had money, and was good with that money he had. He hid his alcohol and drugs deep in his case, so not even the nitpicky Walter Miller could find them if he dug through the case. He always had a nasty cough, and with that, he always had a rag with him to quiet himself as best he could. He enjoyed working with the singers and instrumentalists, and had some laughs with them here and there throughout the days. He was a very kind a soulful man, who had the easiest temper and personality to deal with of all the recording stars. He would always take that long trip back home each evening half walking, and half in a cab, which was one of the ways he kept to that slim figure of his. Many of the Edison staff wondered what the man was really like, as his piano playing was light and airy, even if he was playing rather "rough" Rag-Time behind some singers. The staff had rumours about him spread around, such as things related to him possibly being a Jew, and other things that would get him kicked out had Old man Edison found out himself. He was too good of a man for the manager to fire him, and he never caused any trouble or harm. Since he was always quiet, he wasn't really a big name on their staff, and other pianists under Edison, Fred Bachman and Albert Benzler, found him to be too meek on the piano, and that he wasn't ever meant to be a Rag-Time pianist. Banta was a silent and "behind-the-scenes" figure in the late-1890's at Edison, as well as Victor. He was a popular accompanist in vaudeville and for popular instrumentalists, not as popular as Fred Hylands and Burt Green, but to some degree, he was a better pianist. Banta's hands were not too long, probably able to just reach a tenth, and wasn't really a comical sight to watch when he played. When he played, he looked very intense, focused, and serious. Even when he played Rag-Time, his demeanor still had this feeling to it. When he played something gentle and slow, that was what he looked like, and his expression was still serious, but full of soul. He was easy to work with, and this is why all the instrumentalists liked him so much, as they wouldn't ever have to argue with him, unlike Fred Hylands(where the musicians would sometimes argue with him!). This easiness with him was the main reason why Vess Ossman liked him so much, and is why he stayed with him for so many years. Banta was always a worrysome character for the other staff members however, as he was so slight in figure, constantly had that horrible cough, and wasn't vocal with his true feelings about working at Edison. It worried some of the staff members occasionally, not all the time, but a select few would feel the need to chat with him kindly for recognitions that he was all-right. It took a while for Banta to really be known by the record buyers that he was a regular pianist at Edison, and that he was even playing sometimes. His playing was still quiet and light, which was unfortunate, because it really took away from really hearing him play with all his stylistic details. He very often played in the higher register of the piano, and more often he did this after 1901, why? That is something all the staff could never know. His Ragged style was loved greatly, both at Edison and Victor, and his light and out-of-the-way piano accompaniments were favored by the cornet and banjo players, as they would not need to tell him "BE QUIET!", or tell him to change anything about what he was playing. It wasn't all great that he was a stalwart worker, determined to get as much work done as's he could. This ethic started to get to him in 1902, juggling shows with recording very frequently for Victor and Edison, it began to wear him out much more often. He began to really feel the pain that Fred Hylands had been dealing with for years, Banta just hadn't learned of it earlier because he was healthier, and wasn't as heavy. By 1903, he made his only piano solo, "Violets", which was a beautiful rendition of the popular ballad of the same name. Only six months after this piano solo was made, Banta died of a mixture of all his ailments. He left a seven-year-old son, two year old daughter, and a widowed corset maker. Months after he died, the Edison staff all realised that is was them who forced him to work so much, to the point of where it killed him by the end of 1903. They took the blame and all went to his funeral, leaving a "trail of tears" along the dark march path in the cold of early December. 
Every time his Irish wife Elizabeth (Riley) Banta, heard his record of "Violets" she must have wept every time she heard it. 



I hope you enjoyed this! 

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

Miller, Easton, and Emerson, the record managers of the 1890's

Walter H. Miller
Victor Emerson
Edward Easton

These three odd men ran two of the biggest record companies of the 1890's, Edison and Columbia. The first chap ran Edison, and the lower two ran Columbia. All three of them had different views on the ways their companies should have operated, from the most conservative to the liberal, their views really shaped all the records that we record nerds hear to-day.

Starting with Walter Miller. Miller was a man who was very much like old man Edison himself, and that must have been why he was selected as the manager of the recording department. It is not exactly known when Miller came into management, but he was there from the very beginning, as early as 1888, as an engineer and session supervisor. Not long after that, Miller was promoted to manager of the recording department, where he would remain until the end of Edison's triumph in the 1920's. Miller was a reasonably conservative manager, and wanted everything to be written down and orderly, so any piece of information could be found at ease. From the very complete surviving records of all their studio activity, it would seem that Miller had his wish granted inevitably. Miller didn't allow for any drugs or alcohol in his studio. If anything was found, he would probably send the person out who had the stuff, and maybe if he was hot, would throw the bottle or stomp out the evidence. Miller and Edison were close in ties, and they oftentimes saw each other to have a laugh or share a good meal. Edison himself even made some records with less-than-appropriate scenarios here and there, such as this one in the first sound file on the page. Edison begins with "Say, Wal'er Miller..."(yes, he barely pronounced the "t" in Walter). This would indicate a substantial friendship between Miller and Edison, so Miller probably intended to go with the shared beliefs and ideals that he and Edison both had, which were, coincidentally, conservative in many ways. They were efficient though, and you can't go wrong with the very complete ledgers. 

Now onto Edward Easton. He was of quite contrast to Walter Miller and Edison, as Easton was the judgemental and forward-thinking one of the recording managers. Easton was always a hard-worker, and very straightforward man, who saw his employees at Columbia as employees, not servants(as that's how Victor Emerson saw it..). He probably examined each new person up for hire on their staff, once they got the "go" from Emerson, they had to get through Easton next. That must have really been where the trouble was. If they could get through Easton, they were certainly going to become a "Regular" there. He must have examined the "specimens"(people up for hire that is) precisely, and probably dug through many of their paper trails for anything disloyal, and for general knowledge of what they did before they decided to work there. He believed in a very open way of recording, with little rules and regulations in the actual studio, and more of those rules in the selling and distributing of the records.  As long as work was getting done every day and evening, the company would go on, as the people he examined were all selected tediously by Easton. He didn't manage the day-to-day workings of the studios, but he came in occasionally to watch over the workings and check in with Emerson. Easton ran the entire thing and got the most profits from all of Columbia's investments and stockholders. This is why Easton was the one who hosted those big parties at the most expensive hotels in New York in 1898 and 1899. Easton remained a shrewd worker and powerful president of Columbia to the year that he died, even after being saved from a terrible attempted suicide in 1908.

Now onto Easton's lower-on-the-totem-pole manager "Vic" Emerson. Every one's favourite manager(sarcastically...). Emerson was a little more bitter and demanding of the staff than Easton, who was not nearly as present in the actual studio activity. Emerson had quite an agenda, always. He demanded the unfathomable amount of takes the artists had to endure every day of each song, and he was the one who worked the house musicians until they wanted to hang themselves. Emerson was an accommodating manager though, as he was the one who allowed all the drugs and drinking in the studio, which is a big plus on the artists' part. Emerson was the one who made all the studio decisions and managed personnel on the recording staff. They all hated Emerson. And from some of the stories I have heard passed down for generations, it' clear that whenever Emerson told an artist what to do, the artist HAD to do what he said, or ELSE. I don't really know what it was he could have done, but I'm assuming the consequences were not to be taken easily. He must have loved his house musicians, and just wanted to hear them thousands of times every time he heard them play a good song. As according to what Dan Quinn said quoting Emerson:
"I wish it were possible for you to sing that song a thousand times."

Yep, that one quote along pretty much sums up all of what Emerson valued in his staff members. He treated them like indentured servants to his own demands, not as the renowned performers they all were. His demands were always unreasonable, and it greatly angered the staff members. He just enjoyed the music, not feeling any sort of empathy for the artists who "served" him every day of the week. Emerson did prove Columbia to be a wild company of lovable eccentrics that the exhibition crowds adored, which meant for more profits for himself and Emerson. Just like the over worked artists, Emerson was one who loved life just as much as one like Len Spencer or Fred Hylands, as this is why Columbia was such a wild place to work in the late-1890's. If only Edison could run his company that way...


I hope you enjoyed this! 

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Brown wax piano Rag-Time Analyzed

Freddy Hylands
Frank P. Banta

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

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

Banta was much more modest and silent, as he knew that if he complained to the management too much, they wouldn't listen, as nothing could be done to change anything. Hylands didn't seem to understand this, as you can see from this infamous quote:
He didn't really consider the fact that Vic Emerson(their manager) probably thought of his comments as a joke, and let them pass right over him. Banta knew very well that he needed to just get work done, not complain, and do what he was told. Hylands had not lived with such a mentality before he got into the recording business, he oftentimes wanted to have certain things done his way, and felt the amount of work they were giving him was far too much for him, even though with his endurance levels, he could have done more. I do have to remember that Hylands was not very good a preserving his energy for a multitude of takes, as this section proves this:
He later recorded this with Myers. I still have yet to hear the result, and I know it exists.

Banta did have opportunities to play Rag-Time behind the singers, but under Walter Miller's managing, this was not his favourite thing. Banta really didn't get nearly the same amount of opportunities to play Rag-Time on the brown wax cylinders as much as Hylands did. One good thing about Vic Emerson is that he was the same age as most of the artists he had employed at Columbia, Walter Miller wasn't. I'm not really sure how old Miller was, but he must have been born in the generation before the oldest artists on the usual Edison staff(which was before 1860). Emerson could at least enjoy and accept the rowdy new music that vaudeville had to offer. Banta only really got to play the Rag-Time regularly behind the singers later, on the early gold moulded Edison records, and on the Victors that he was on with Dan Quinn and Silas Leachman. 
Both of these piano fiends must have been entertaining to watch when they played, so that was one thing that the singers must have had to get used to, was not looking back at them when they sang. Hylands more particularly, as I think that Banta would look very focused and deep in the music. Hylands was not only and interesting character to look at, he must have been a fascinating one to see at the piano. 
Try to picture Hylands, that redheaded fat man, showing all sorts of expressions and brightness in his blue-green eyes. And with every powerful strike at the keys, more orange-red hairs weep downward. His smiles are sweet and comical, but reveal broken up and spoiling teeth. 

 Banta must have been just as interesting, but Hylands was a real riot! All his Rag-Time says for it. just like this one:
The cylinder above, to me, is always the perfect example of hot Rag-Time on brown wax cylinder when looking up this subject, and there's nothing wrong with what Hylands plays either. His tempo is perfect, and he plays some things that sounds very folksy and almost Boogie-Woogie like in the left hand.

I hope you enjoyed this! 

Saturday, August 22, 2015

More differing observations

I meant to share a few more things in my last post, but I just really wanted to focus on Vess L. Ossman, as I hadn't any time to do a post yesterday. I have had a lot of different early recording artists on my mind lately, so it's been hard to stay on a single one for an entire blog post. The first thing I would like to point out is a record by Ruby Brooks:

That's Brooks cropped from the 42 Edison artists picture from 1900. Now this cylinder is great in many ways, but Brooks was not the best banjo player in the world. Brooks' time was all over the place and he wasn't nearly as smooth on the banjo as Ossman or Fred Bacon. Anyhow, here you go from 1902 with Frank P. Banta's piano accompaniment:
Did you hear it? 
Banta counted them off at the beginning! Oh my god! On an Edison cylinder! How rare. 
I was going through my music on my Ipad during art class yesterday and I came across this one, which I had heard before, but I had never noticed the weird sound between the announcement and the start of the music. It was identical to the sound that can be heard on many Metropolitan orchestra performances on Victors, and that has been identified as Frank P. Banta counting them off. This cylinder is great all around, and the strong bass notes really make the record have a unique sound. 

The next thing I would like to talk about involves my friend Craig's favourite early recording artist:
Burt Shepard. 
I love his records just as much as my friend Craig, minus the fact that he has practically ALL of Shepard's Victors. He was a man of jovial disposition, and loved what he did. He was beloved by all the crowds with his almost dirty parodies of popular songs and comical piano accompaniment. So to start with my spiel on Burt Shepard, here is the first example:
I love this record. The piano accompaniment is wonderful, and Shepard really makes it perfect. His monologues are also an interesting mix of comedy and odd dialect. Such as this one here:
Stutter-stutter-stutter. Love it. 
He had the most queer speech. I just don't know how to identify it. I know that he's from the mid-west, but where exactly, he never disclosed. His dialect sounds similar to Byron G. Harlan's thick slurred speech from his Kansas origin of birth. This next one really reveals his crooked speech and all else:
Oh yes, he was a hick alright. Just listen closely. 
I just found this record as I was writing this, so now I really know how he spoke. Hmm. I can't really think of much to say about this record, it's pretty extraordinary. He really executes it perfectly. You can just see the crooked words by how he says them. They cannot exactly be written in the dialect, but you can hear it. Other than Shepard being a female impersonator in the 1870's and 1880's, his recording years were really great as well, as that's the only way we get to hear him. We never will be able to see him in his full female attire, which is really a shame. He must have made a great lady. As he can get that way sometimes:
This is an example of his parody skills:
Hmm, that piano is not normal to the usual style, or balance. That gets me slightly suspicious. He was a good pianist I have been told. I have also been told this about Dan W. Quinn, but that doesn't really mean that Quinn can be heard playing piano on lots of his records, even though I never can doubt what records exist to-day from this time period. There's plenty of records from the earliest days that aren't supposed to exist, but they still do. Records like this include Russell Hunting's only surviving smut cylinders, and the one record that S. H. Dudley's wife made in 1900. It's surprising really, "all" of Russell Hunting's smut cylinder were destroyed in 1896 and 1897, except for a few. Thanks to Walter Miller(the manager of Edison's company)for some reason, for keeping them in his private collection. Why did he do this? We all really want to know, but we probably never will. Hunting probably didn't find out that any of his smut cylinders survived until years after he left the recording business, or he kept some to himself and never told anyone about them, and now they're hidden somewhere waiting to be discovered. It's hard to know. I still don't understand how a copy the record S. H. Dudley's wife made still exists. There's so many things that would object its existence, but it's managed to beat the overwhelming odds. The record's existence in the first place was under Dudley's command, so whatever it was to make him delete the record from the catalog permanently, it was sudden and all from his odd impulses. 

I hope you enjoyed this!